Okiecruffler
Member
All of this talk of shotguns and hunting and just being this time of year has me feeling all nostalgic. It brings to mind a story I thought I might share since it is the season for turkey shoots and all.
The little town I grew up in, Blanchard Okla for those of you familiar with the area, used to have a turkey shoot every Sunday right after church. It wasn't a turkey shoot in the purest sense of the word, more like an informal trap shoot with a turkey as the prize. Two bucks a round, 5 stations, 5 shots to a station, but the trap was old and had a mind of it's own. Was probably closer to sporting clays than anything else.
Hunting was THE pastime around those parts then, and a man was judged by his shotgun. Alot of O/U's, Citoris mostly, but more than a few Winchesters too. A few 1100's from time to time, along with an 870 or three could also be found. Nothing too extravagant, but a pretty good showing for a small farm community.
My friend Tony and myself, both in our early teens, were the bane of the turkey shoot. Most of the time it was one of us walking away with a frozen bird. Got so bad that my mother forbid me from bringing another bird in the house. The adults would grumble about us, mostly good natured, some not. We thought we were pretty hot stuff back then, but looking back I know now why we could out shoot them. We didn't have JOBS. Sure I worked at a few stop and go stores, stocking the coolers, and Tony fed calves at a local dairy, but that didn't take alot of our time. We shot at least 3 times a week. We both lived on large tracts of land with huge populations of rabbit and quail. The small farm ponds were like duck magnets. Now that I'm older and have a job, I'm lucky if I can get out to shoot the shotgun once a month. Anyhow...
It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving when the old man showed up. I recognized his truck immediately. It was an old 60's model Chevy, with tri-color primer finish and the left rear brake light replaced with a light off a trailer, held on with bailing wire. His shotgun wasn't much better. It was a J.C. Higgins pump, with at least a 32" barrel with that big cannister looking adjustable choke on the end. If it had ever been blued, it was before I was born, and it gave no hint of it that day. He shot in the first round with me and 3 other guys. Clay after clay went to dust in front of that old pump, and I weas eliminated in the first round. Tony managed to make it to the final round, but there was that old man and that old pump right there with him. When the dust cleared, the old fella carried off that bird and put it in his truck.
We were just stunned. A rematch was in order and we talked the old guy into it. But we wanted to make it interesting. Between the 2 of us, we had $60 and offered it up as a friendly wager. He accepted, but only against one of us. Since most of the money was Tony's, and his S&W auto shot abit better with a tail wind than my 311, he was going to shoot.
We learned something that day. That old fella drove that old truck because it was all he needed. He shot that old pump for the same reason. Tony managed to hit 22 of 25, even with the wind picking up. It wasn't good enough. It was the first time I had ever seen anyone go 25 for 25. At 60 bucks, it was an expensive lesson for a couple of kids, but I've never forgotten it. Never bet against the old farmer in overalls with the gun older than his father. Chances are, he and that gun aren't strangers, and they've been here before.
The little town I grew up in, Blanchard Okla for those of you familiar with the area, used to have a turkey shoot every Sunday right after church. It wasn't a turkey shoot in the purest sense of the word, more like an informal trap shoot with a turkey as the prize. Two bucks a round, 5 stations, 5 shots to a station, but the trap was old and had a mind of it's own. Was probably closer to sporting clays than anything else.
Hunting was THE pastime around those parts then, and a man was judged by his shotgun. Alot of O/U's, Citoris mostly, but more than a few Winchesters too. A few 1100's from time to time, along with an 870 or three could also be found. Nothing too extravagant, but a pretty good showing for a small farm community.
My friend Tony and myself, both in our early teens, were the bane of the turkey shoot. Most of the time it was one of us walking away with a frozen bird. Got so bad that my mother forbid me from bringing another bird in the house. The adults would grumble about us, mostly good natured, some not. We thought we were pretty hot stuff back then, but looking back I know now why we could out shoot them. We didn't have JOBS. Sure I worked at a few stop and go stores, stocking the coolers, and Tony fed calves at a local dairy, but that didn't take alot of our time. We shot at least 3 times a week. We both lived on large tracts of land with huge populations of rabbit and quail. The small farm ponds were like duck magnets. Now that I'm older and have a job, I'm lucky if I can get out to shoot the shotgun once a month. Anyhow...
It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving when the old man showed up. I recognized his truck immediately. It was an old 60's model Chevy, with tri-color primer finish and the left rear brake light replaced with a light off a trailer, held on with bailing wire. His shotgun wasn't much better. It was a J.C. Higgins pump, with at least a 32" barrel with that big cannister looking adjustable choke on the end. If it had ever been blued, it was before I was born, and it gave no hint of it that day. He shot in the first round with me and 3 other guys. Clay after clay went to dust in front of that old pump, and I weas eliminated in the first round. Tony managed to make it to the final round, but there was that old man and that old pump right there with him. When the dust cleared, the old fella carried off that bird and put it in his truck.
We were just stunned. A rematch was in order and we talked the old guy into it. But we wanted to make it interesting. Between the 2 of us, we had $60 and offered it up as a friendly wager. He accepted, but only against one of us. Since most of the money was Tony's, and his S&W auto shot abit better with a tail wind than my 311, he was going to shoot.
We learned something that day. That old fella drove that old truck because it was all he needed. He shot that old pump for the same reason. Tony managed to hit 22 of 25, even with the wind picking up. It wasn't good enough. It was the first time I had ever seen anyone go 25 for 25. At 60 bucks, it was an expensive lesson for a couple of kids, but I've never forgotten it. Never bet against the old farmer in overalls with the gun older than his father. Chances are, he and that gun aren't strangers, and they've been here before.
kidding. 