Like most I started with a .22 rifle. That was relatively unremarkable, it was the 2nd gun I ever shot that was the doozy. Dad had a Marlin 39a Golden Mountie that I was taught to shoot with and I killed countless pigeons on the farm with that gun. Dad was never much into guns or shooting though, so all he owned was two .22's and a single shot youth model .410 that he said had such a wide choke it wasn't even worth shooting.
At around 16 I decided I wanted to try hunting. I convinced my parents to get me an 12 ga 870 instead of a class ring (best decision ever!). I ended up with a combo; a 30" vent ribbed barrel and a 20" smooth bore rifled-slug barrel. Since I was after deer, I never even bothered putting on the 30" barrel and immediately installed the slug barrel, grabbed several boxes of 12" 1oz Remington sluggers and went down to the bottom field to sight it in. Keep in mind, up to this point in my life my firearm experience was limited to a Red Ryder, a Crossman airgun, and that Marlin. DAMN that first shot kicked WAAAAAY more than I expected it to! I literally dropped the gun to my feet in the cold mud of the bean field, trying to make sense of the sting to my cheek and the sudden rawness of my shoulder. I gathered my senses and proceeded to sight the gun in, calling it quits after about 20 rounds. A bruise showed up on my shoulder that evening and I begin to wonder if I had been silly to consider hunting.
Just a week later a buddy invited me to shoot clays with his family when he found out I had a new shotgun. I asked what to bring, and he said 100 rounds of 8 shot game loads should be enough. Now, still fresh in my mind was the powerful kick of those slugs. I just assumed that 1oz game loads kicked every bit as much as 1 oz slugs and I had NO idea how I was going to make it through 100 rounds of that type of punishment. I almost considered backing out, but I figured that my buddy was no more of a "man" than I was so I might as well suck it up and take the punishment. My buddy acted like it was a ton of fun, and while I couldn't see how getting punched repeatedly in the shoulder by Mike Tyson could be fun I didn't want to appear to be a wimp! With me being the guest, they invited me to shoot first. I was thinking this was all some sort of joke that they were all in on. I can still remember bringing that shotgun up to my shoulder in front of his dad, brothers and sisters, taking a deep breath, and preparing to get the snot kicked out of me. I yelled "PULL", tracked the clay, pulled that stock as tight to my shoulder as I could, shut my eyes and pulled the trigger.....and was rewarded with just a gentle push! I'm pretty sure I missed that bird, but you can't imagine my excitement of discovering that game loads were in fact not comparable at all to slugs!!