I grew up with hunters. One of my grandfather's loved to hunt as much as he loved raising his prize beagles. I learned gun safety, respect for other people's property and even how to clean what we killed. I bought my first gun from Lack Sporting Goods in Paducah with money saved from my paper route.
I picked this particular shotgun I think more for the way it looked than for any practical reason. And it still has a good look and feel even after all these years. The bluing is worn and the walnut stock and forearm are scarred, even some of the engraving is worn smooth from years of chasing rabbits, quail and doves but it is still beautiful gun.
I'll never take my grandchildren hunting and that's okay. I never liked cleaning a dead animal anyway. Times and attitudes about guns and hunting have changed with the generations, and most of the game is gone and no longer accessible. I'll be content to show them these photos and tell them tales of my hunting adventures so many years ago with my grandfather and Skippy.
If you've ever rabbit hunted you can hear the dogs work the rabbits, the distinctive howl and yap of a beagle in hot pursuit. And generally, there is one dog that leads the pack. His name was Skippy, and he was my grandfather's best hunter. "They'll break out of the tall grass right over there" he pointed, adding "boy, whatever you do don't shoot Skippy, he'll be leading the pack for sure."
I told him I was ready but when that frightened rabbit broke into the open I raised my new double-barrel 20 gauge and let loose with both barrels. Just as I jerked the trigger that rabbit made a sharp right-hand turn. The dirt exploded just in front of old Skippy, at least three feet behind the rabbit, and that beagle let out a yelp and I just knew I'd shot my grandfather’s prized hunting dog.
Skippy lived but he was ever a good rabbit dog after that. Shell shocked as he was he became a beloved house pet living for many years after his near demise at my young hands. My grandfather never said a harsh word. He just suggested perhaps that bird hunting would be better, knowing that errant buckshot directed into blue sky would be safer for all concerned.
Skippy of course is gone, but I still have that shotgun. One of the firing pins no longer works but that's okay. I doubt I will ever shoot it again. It's been over 50 years since I almost ended poor old Skippy's life with that gun. As some of my friends will tell you I'm better shooting a camera than a shotgun anyway.
There's something special about old shotguns, the craftsmanship of the engraving, the polished wood finishes, and the time-honored designs such as a Browning Auto 5 or the sleek Remington Wingmaster. And then there's my old AH Fox 20 gauge double barrel shown here. Not expensive guns by any means, but the memories of those days with my grandfather and Skippy are as they say, priceless.
There are more photos of these old shotguns at www.jarrettstreetphoto.com. Please take a look and let me know what you think.
Until next time...
