Hello everyone.
Having told you the story of my shooting season through the prism of my new shotgun, which is good fun and everyone likes a kit story, here's the more human angle: how it's been to introduce the next generation. Again, some context: last year I heard there was an opening on a small syndicate I'd been lucky enough to be invited to once a year with three of my old friends for the past 5 or 6 years, and asked the boss if I could join. I did have one condition: they had to accept keen but poorly trained 8 year old boys, which they did gladly. So, with childcare built into the shooting, it was a winner! Many months of building excitement followed. I had a place to shoot, I would soon have a new gun, I have steel shot cartridges, what I wasn't yet sure of would how YPM would take to it. These are long-ish trips, long days, there's a lot of waiting, it can be cold, there were many potential pitfalls along the path. Still, the eve of the first shoot came, I devised a system for getting us both out of bed and leaving without waking anyone up long before dawn, and we packed. Anticipation being probably most of the enjoyment of an adventure, I involved YPM.
For those in the know, the echoes of Marcel Pagnol's "La Gloire de Mon Père" are quite deliberate.
Mid-October: the weather is mild for the first day, I keep YPM with me to see what goes on, in particular teach him not to stand in front of guns, be quiet (fat chance), not try and look down the front end of guns, that sort of thing. Acclimatisation essentially. There's a lot of waiting in this game, there was plenty of "I'm booooored!", "When are the ducks going to come?", missing opportunities because my eye is on YPM, but broadly he stuck to it as well as I could expect. I shot a mallard early on which he ran off to fetch without any hesitation, and then took great pleasure in carrying birds around, and playing with dogs. Later in the day, he was almost physically sick, so disgusted was he by my missing of a hare. Sorry.... The duck flight was a long wait for him this early in the season, but he saw it through well enough.
Skills learned: making a beating stick and whitling anything whitlable with his little blunt penknife.
Main impression, recounted to everyone afterwards: ".... and we did all that to ONLY shoot ONE DUCK". And the hare. Of which we do not speak.
Still, he integrated with the group, was allowed back, and despite the moaning about boredom, was keen to return. Result.
Duck flighting up a tree. For a city boy, this is freedom.
More to come. That was just the prologue...
Having told you the story of my shooting season through the prism of my new shotgun, which is good fun and everyone likes a kit story, here's the more human angle: how it's been to introduce the next generation. Again, some context: last year I heard there was an opening on a small syndicate I'd been lucky enough to be invited to once a year with three of my old friends for the past 5 or 6 years, and asked the boss if I could join. I did have one condition: they had to accept keen but poorly trained 8 year old boys, which they did gladly. So, with childcare built into the shooting, it was a winner! Many months of building excitement followed. I had a place to shoot, I would soon have a new gun, I have steel shot cartridges, what I wasn't yet sure of would how YPM would take to it. These are long-ish trips, long days, there's a lot of waiting, it can be cold, there were many potential pitfalls along the path. Still, the eve of the first shoot came, I devised a system for getting us both out of bed and leaving without waking anyone up long before dawn, and we packed. Anticipation being probably most of the enjoyment of an adventure, I involved YPM.
For those in the know, the echoes of Marcel Pagnol's "La Gloire de Mon Père" are quite deliberate.
Mid-October: the weather is mild for the first day, I keep YPM with me to see what goes on, in particular teach him not to stand in front of guns, be quiet (fat chance), not try and look down the front end of guns, that sort of thing. Acclimatisation essentially. There's a lot of waiting in this game, there was plenty of "I'm booooored!", "When are the ducks going to come?", missing opportunities because my eye is on YPM, but broadly he stuck to it as well as I could expect. I shot a mallard early on which he ran off to fetch without any hesitation, and then took great pleasure in carrying birds around, and playing with dogs. Later in the day, he was almost physically sick, so disgusted was he by my missing of a hare. Sorry.... The duck flight was a long wait for him this early in the season, but he saw it through well enough.
Skills learned: making a beating stick and whitling anything whitlable with his little blunt penknife.
Main impression, recounted to everyone afterwards: ".... and we did all that to ONLY shoot ONE DUCK". And the hare. Of which we do not speak.
Still, he integrated with the group, was allowed back, and despite the moaning about boredom, was keen to return. Result.
Duck flighting up a tree. For a city boy, this is freedom.
More to come. That was just the prologue...
