My Father was not a hunter or otherwise into firearms. He did have a single shot .22 on the farm that he kept for "varmints" of one kind or another.
I'm not sure how old I was - probably 8 or 9 - when I did get a Daisy BB gun for Christmas. That thing was my constant - and I mean constant - companion on the farm for years after.
When I was 12, I raised a hog for a 4-H project. I took that hog - a gilt that I had named Petunia - to the county fair and won a blue ribbon. Upon returning home, my Dad informed me that it was now time to sell Petunia. I had known, of course, that that day was coming. But by then, Petunia was every bit the pet to me that my dog was. My Father, seeking to soften the blow of losing my pet hog, said to me: "Son, you've wanted a .22 rifle for some time. You are now old enough, and the sale of that hog will provide you the money you need to buy a rifle." So, Petunia went off to market and to be honest, my heart was certainly not as heavy as it might have otherwise been.
I remember opening the check from the packing house when it came in the mail. It was for $42 and change. Dad took me to the hardware store in town, and I bought a brand new Remington Model 541 .22 rifle. It cost $40 and the other $2 bought ammo. That was almost 40 years ago. It would be impossible to count all of the rabbits, squirrels, pidgeons, tin cans and other targets that fell prey to that rifle in the ensuing years of my youth.
Although I don't shoot it much anymore it is still - and always will be - a very prized member of my firearm collection.
