I’ve lately had a hankering to kill a bird with a sweet little shotgun of my Dad’s that’s been in my possession for a while now. I’ve hardly used it and had never taken a bird with it but Dad used to shoot a few ducks and pheasants with it just because he liked it. I’m not a gun snob nor a collector but there is a soft place in my heart for old guns, particularly American made guns. Over the years I’ve gotten hold of a couple of old doubles that I like and expect to use until my shooting days are over, but when I spotted the sweet little pump gun in the back of my gun safe I figured it was just too cool a gun to spend it’s days unused. How Dad came upon it is a story I’ve heard many times. The details can change a bit with each telling and I can’t attest to the accuracy but it’s still a good story.
Shortly
after Dad left the Navy he and his brother walked into Haskell’s Hardware and
spotted two Winchester Model 42’s on the rack and had to have them. My uncle
was shorter than Dad so he took the 26” barreled full choke model. Dad’s has a
28 inch modified choke. The year was 1947 or ’48 and they each paid $37.50 for
their little .410’s. Dad proudly showed it to his pheasant hunting companions
and they quickly kidded him about his little popgun. Then he turned his spaniel
loose and promptly filled his limit without a miss. Over the years I’d heard
the two guns had consecutive serial numbers, but my uncle’s 42 was sold or
traded or somehow disappeared long ago.
The 42
doesn’t fit me very well and I don’t shoot it very well, but if I bear down and
concentrate I can hit with it, sometimes. I took it to the skeet club a few
years ago and the boys lined up to try it. Fit or not, it’s fun to shoot but I
have guns I do better with and never really thought about taking it out
to shoot birds. I wouldn’t consider changing it, but the modified choke is
a little too tight for our grouse woods and it’s hard enough to hit with a .410
in the best of conditions. I’ve killed ducks with a single shot .410 when I was
a kid and we used lead shot for waterfowl in those days, but those days are long gone.
Paul called
and reported moving good numbers of grouse and woodcock near his shack and
thought we should get together for a hunt. Sounded good to me and a good chance
for the Model 42. With enough chances I may have some luck. I loaded Jack and
the little gun in my truck and went for an afternoon in the woods.
We turned
Jack and Scarlett loose in good looking cover but the dogs hunted hard with no
results for the first half hour and I started to wonder if I was gonna get a
chance to try the .410. Even Paul said he was eager to hear the popgun go off.
Things started to heat up when Jack pointed off to the left and Scarlett
stopped in the cover to the right of the trail we used. As I moved in front of
Jack I must have passed close to the grouse that flushed behind me and was fast
escaping when I found the safety and swung the gun around to shoot. Thank goodness for a good forearm to grip, I believe that thin little shell-shucker could fly right out of my hands! My shot was way behind and I had to remember to chamber another round so by then it was too
late. The grouse flew off unscathed.
When I was
in high school I bought a 12 gauge pump-gun, a used 870, and it was my meat and
potatoes gun for a long time. I shot small game, ducks, birds, varmints, critters and
furbearers with that gun. It was the days before choke tubes so I bought
another open choke barrel for it. I shot on a trap league and skeet with it and
I still have it. I was pretty good with it but now I have to think to work the action and you know what
that means.
It didn’t
take long for Jack to lock-up again and I approached with my finger on the
trigger-guard safety button so I wouldn’t have to search for it when the time
came. A woodcock went up and offered a very good opportunity climbing for the treetops. I threw the
featherweight gun up and shot too quickly and missed. But I jacked another
skinny round into the chamber just as the bird topped out and the woodcock went down! The good thing about
those skinny little shells is you can fit a lot in your pocket. I was going to
need them. Scarlett showed up at the action and beat Jack to make a lovely
retrieve. I’d killed a bird with the .410 and was feeling pretty good. We took
a break then to water the dogs and I took a couple of photos. The afternoon
went on and we had chances at a few grouse and more woodcock.
I’d started out hoping to kill one bird, but when I dropped another I was suddenly thinking “limit.” And I had chances for a limit, but of
course I missed. Again and again.
It was near
sundown when we were walking the logging road out and a grouse surprised us
from the side and flew straight down the trail. Paul called “take im!” and it
was a great chance to kill a grouse with Dad’s little 42. My finger searched
painfully long for the safety in its unfamiliar location and when I finally
found it I snapped the firing pin on an empty chamber. I’d forgotten to cycle a
fresh round after shooting at the last bird! I can still hear Paul chuckling.
