16 ga. vs. 28 ga.

Discussion in 'Upland Game Forum' started by Brdhntr47, Dec 28, 2005.

  1. twospots

    twospots Elite Refuge Member

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    I'm an outdoor "news style" writer (cause that is all I have tried to get so far) but I would LOVE to be published as a story writer. If you guys want, we can get some stuff together and see where it goes... Worse thing that can happen is we get your stories all together in a short story form and have them. If no publisher will buy them, who cares. I'd be willing to get them together and work out any kinks for free as long as you do not have a time deadline, cause I am busy as heck... Just a thought... let me know... and lets not limit this to just you guys either. I know a lot of guys that have some great stories...
     
  2. setter

    setter Elite Refuge Member

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    new jersey
    was a late quail season eve as i was driving home,end up following an old ford pickup with a cap. Bunch of even marked faces looking out of the back of the cap. I assumed the evenly marked faces belonged to a crew of setters but actually i found them to be a friendly bunch of english springers belonging to a ornery but loveable old Irishman name of Harry Mears. i followed Mr. Mears to his home in Williamstown to see the dogs inside. Mr. Mears saw my girls in the truck and walked over a shook my had,it was as strong a hand shake as i ever experienced.strong from a life of working hard. He introduced himself as Harry Mears, i called Him Mr. Mears. Hell no lad, Mr. Mears was me dad he said. He had a very pleasant look to him with twinkly blue eyes. In a flash he invited me in as well as my two setters . we entered his house,an old two story victorian .Inside Harry feed all the dogs my setters and his five springers. a lovely older lady joined us,Harry introduced Ms. Florence his sister. The kitchen smelled of warm bread and turkey as ms. Floerence fed us a warm dinner of turkey and warm home baked bread. Harry broke out a bottle of old bushmill which between Harry,Florence and I quickly disappeared. Harry and Florence kept me entertained with their views on life. Harry quickly expreesed his views on interracial affairs or marriage with Lord Laddie ,bluejays and robins are both birds but ya donna see them them interminglin do ya. I couldn't do anything but laugh as Harry was quite right .Harry now pulled out a big crock jug of more bushmills. His sister was as lovey a gray haired lady as you have ever met. Harry talked to his dogs like people and they seemed to understand. Florence pulled out next a home made blueberry pie.the berries picked from rows of berries grown in the field behind the home. Blueberries are a staple of the area here in south jersey. the pie was delicious.As was the turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce served previously. we talked about hunting fishing growing up in south jersey,harry told me of years as a milkman . I listened and laughed as the hours flew by . Harry was a widower who lived with Florence and their love for each other was amazing .Harry also hunted and fished in pa.Florence was a lovely lady with just a trace of an Irish accent just as my grandmother had. i grew up around that accent and mannerisms and even today an Scots-Irish accent is like music to my ears.The time flew by and my wife was very angry when i finally drug myself out of that warm homey kitchen and drove home. Harry and i both had done a bit of shooting that afternoon and after soribg up the next day i drove to Harry's home where we picked quail and had a nip ta drink as Harry put it Florence cooked another great meal and quickily phoned my wife and invited her to dinner. Florence cooked the quail and another killer pie,this time pumpkin.It was athe beginning of a great friendship that lasted for years until Harry and Florence passed over the rainbow bridge. I'm sure Florence still looks lovely and now cooks for Angels.Harry is still Harry, petting a dog somewhere and keepin some fine irish whiskey cool in a stream he's fishing somewhere. Two very bright spots in my road of life. God bless them both
     
  3. Greybeard

    Greybeard Elite Refuge Member

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    ......as I could smell the homemade Bread and baked Turkey as I read.
    "May we partake of a second helping, I'de be askin'?"
     
  4. setter

    setter Elite Refuge Member

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    fed me many a fine meal ,especially biscuits and sausage gravy over the next decade or so ,always served with a wee nip to keep the blood flowin as she said. Harry introduced me to the laddie down the way. Bill Johnson who owned an Irish setter,a crazy big running female that ran out in the strret leaving a fine litter to be bottle fed.We helped Billy as Harry called him bury Maggie,there wasn't a dry eye on the street as we all helped say good by to a nice dog. One of these pups grew to be a pheasant finding machine,who hold a point long enough for Bill to get near the Buddha would put the bird in flight school,worked for bill,but i prefer to do my own flushing. Bill remains my friend to this date. He was a constant partner of mine along with my dad as we shared many an early morning bay trip to catch tiderunner weakfish. Bill had his 15 minutes of fame when he caught two weakfish and won the pool on the party boat BIG JIM out of cape jim. both of these weakies were over fourteen lbs and Bill made the FISHERMAN a local fishing paper printed weekly. Ms. Florence was a pleasant looking lady who kept her shape and sense of humor. i'd had seen photographs of her in her younger years and she was flat out beautiful, in her later years ms. Florence was an attractive woman,even more beautiful inside. Ms Florence always had something good to eat and when Harry and I took a hunting or fishing trip there was an old canvas bag that Florence stuff to the gills with food ,big thick ham and cheese on home made bread,which Harry fed more to the dogs than he ate,I love my dogs but i ate the food they got dog biscuits from me -lol. Those ten or so years will remain with me forever.Two true friends that the Lord allowed in my life to make it fuller,damn i miss them.
     
  5. Brdhntr47

    Brdhntr47 Elite Refuge Member

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    Hudson Valley,N.Y.
    I got back from Barnaget Bay late last night to find some of Greybeards cartoons waiting for me (thanks Dan they're great). There is one that depicts a dove shooter standing in the middle of a pile of empty shells while another hunter asks him if he's "seen any".
    Well, that cartoon got me to thinking about a dove shoot that took place a good number of years ago in the Santee area of South Carolina. Pop was along with me and this would be his first dove shoot. Now Pop had shot his fair share of pheasants over his Britts but had never shot a dove in his life as New York doesn't have a dove season.
    Now, those southern boys know how to run a dove shoot and this two day affair was no exception. The evening before the first day's shoot the host went over all the rules and made sure everyone had thier license in order. Immediately following the hosts covering of all the rules which included the strict adherance to the bird limit, the BBQ began and the adult beverages flowed. Everyone was ready for a great shoot. Unfortunately the first day proved to be a wash out literally. Rained all day and the doves sure didn't want to fly in that rain. A grand total of two birds flew into that field the entire shoot. Both birds flew right over Pop and he took them both for as neat a double as you could ask for. That evening Pop's double on the only birds that flew into the field was the topic of conversation. As the evening grew long the host asked Pop if he had been shooting doves long and Pop responded that that pair of birds were the first he had ever shot at and to tell the truth he didn't see what everyone thought was so difficult about dove shooting.
    The next day's weather was as good as you could ask for. Prior to going into the field the host went over the rules again and stressed the strict limit and assured everyone that the game wardens would be around to visit. When the birds began to fly they came from every direction. Pop was sitting on his stool surrounded by hundreds of empty shells and just shooting away. After a bit of time our host came around to all the shooters with a pick-up full of cold drinks. As he pulls up next to Pop he jumps out of the truck and say's "what in the world are thinking,I told you what the limit was,I told you the warden's would be here. How many birds have you killed". Pop looks our host straight in the eye and with a big grin say's " not a G.D. one of them little bastages." Well after everyone gets done laughing our host say's "well you appear to be a fine gentleman and I believe you, the wardens on the other hand will never believe that one in a million years."
    Thanks for the cartoon Dan,it brought back great memories.

    Dennis
     
  6. setter

    setter Elite Refuge Member

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    as my friendship with Harry grew i found out Harry hunted Pennsylvania too. Off we go loaded in Harry's War Wagon as he called his pickup with the cap. acoupla hour drive to Birdsboro,right next to reading Pa. and directly next to the Daniel Boone homestead,a national historic site that all the game in the area knows is off limits to the hunters ,you should see the bucks and pheasants that strutted that ground daring ya to entere under penalty of law as the signs said. we pulled up to the Bergstresser farm,owned by a great guy,Gene Bergstresser. Gene farmed,welded and drove a school bus.Gene picked up a road killed deer and hung it in the barn ,the warden fined Gene and took his license for like two seasons,this didn't lay well with Gene who now understandably had no love for the warden. Genes farm teemed with rabbits, pheasants, and doves, Gene welcomed us and invited us in for a cold drink as it was September. the company and iced tea was great but i was antsy to get out shooting,Gene was busy at the time and said he'd join us next trip. Harry went to the far tree line with his springers, i went to a single tree on the east property line. i put up my gray cardboard dove decoys on the barbed wire fence and a couple as high as i could reach in trhe tree. the flight was on and i heard Harry warring away on the far tree line . every now and then i would hear the whistle and Harry sending the lil busy body springers for a downed bird,Harry was shooting up a storm . Me i was cracking doves as they back peddled to land on the fence or the tree . It is easy to shoot doves as they go to land i was not missing much I had my 12 doves fairly quick and listened as Harry continued to hammer at them. a round six Harry game up to the barn looking tired and beat,he had shot a bunch of shells at least 3-4 boxes . Tia his lil springer bitch flopped down and panted as i went in the truck for water for the dogs,Harry took a drink of the lemonade ms. Florence packed us and we had a sandwich too, Harry says to me damn laddie didna ya see all the wee birds,ya sure didna shoot much. I said i had enough shooting to get my limit. limit Harry says,laddie i only got a wee handfull.went into his canvas bag pulled out six doves and says how did ya get 12. i went in my old game coat and showed Harry my cardboard dove decoys i cut out and painted eyes on,an old wooden clothes pin glued to them so i could use it to pin to a wire or a tree limb. Harry looks at me and says here along along I thought ya was a good laddie and a now i find ya to be a bloody cheater !!!. Harry was serious i found out as he bent my ear all the way home. Harry truly believed dove decoys were cheating so next trip i had a pile a empties too-lol
     
  7. Greybeard

    Greybeard Elite Refuge Member

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    .......that has just passed beyond the air space my shot pattern now occupies."
    We were shooting a Dove field with a pond nearby and a Hedge alongside.
    Perfect setup for burning a couple of cases of empties as our limit was 15.
    With my 3 boys being 11, 12 and 14 years old I figured it to be a fine place for them to experience a goodly dose of "humble pie" as they had not really hunted Doves specifically at a stand.
    I strung them out at the toughest possible positions such as the hedge behind them so the birds would be screaming in high and from behind while I took the "patsy" spot by the pond and dead tree.:)dv )
    Much to my amazement, we were all shooting better than 50 percent when I yelled "MARK! To my left" as a high flyer came screaming over. I missed with both barrels, jeff missed 3 times with his 1100, Dave missed twice with his O/U and Brian, the 14 year old, missed 3 times with his Weatherby.
    As the bird ripped on by the last gun, Brian, shouted "C'mon back you little chicken! You owe us $2.50 for shells!"
    We've certainly had our share of fun and laughter with the Doves and the boys still quote me as I always said "I can STILL miss 'em with the best of 'em!"
     

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