Tales from the Huntin' Logs

Yes, it is indeed huntin' season again. Opening day was yesterday, so A. got up at 4:30 a.m. and drove to the state forest where he likes to hunt. Cubby and I had many discussions about Daddy going hunting. That he was hunting ("Hut? Hut?") for deer ("Deah? Deah?"), that he would shoot ("Shoo? Shoo?") them with his gun ( "Guh-NUH? Guh-NUH?") and then we would eat ("Ee? Ee?") them.

Unfortunately, A. came home without a deer. But with a really ridiculous story.

He was all set up in his spot and had been sitting there for about an hour when a buck wandered into view. The buck didn't know he was there, and was in no particular hurry, so A. figured it would be a pretty easy shot. So he lined up the shot and pulled the trigger. Click.

The gun didn't fire.

He quickly loaded another round in the gun and . . . click. This happened with eight shells, one after the other. Click click click click . . . By the time he finally got one that would actually fire, the buck was too far away.

He couldn't believe it. The shells were a couple of years old, sure, but still. One shell, okay. So that one was defective or got some moisture in it or something. But eight? And it was definitely the shells, because he test-fired some other shells when he got home and had no trouble with them.

So, lesson learned: Make sure your ammunition is new before you sight a buck. Also, don't buy Remington shotgun shells to begin with. Let's hope the Winchester shells are better.

And while we're on the subject of shooting deer, let me tell you what happened when Cubby and I accompanied A. to the local Huge Outdoor Store to pick up some functional shotgun shells. We walked in and A. pointed out to Cubby the stuffed deer on the wall. Cubby grinned, pointed, and said, "Pshew pshew."

At least someone got a shot off at some deer yesterday.