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I cut my teeth on a stevens 12 gauge and a 10gauge (longtom)----pull a squirrel outta the tallest trees in eastern ky.....HOWEVER----it almost killed on both ends----especially the 10gauge kicked like a government mule
I have craved a NID 10 ga. 3.5 inçh magnum for as long as I have known about them,and a swan and/or crane hunt to use it on.However when I hit the ground last Sunday I didn't bounce, I shattered.That has me rethinking my desire for such a shoulder cannon.I bought an ancient L.C.Smith sxs 12 guage a while back and I was lucky enough to win an eBay auction for something like 17 bucks for a beautiful old VL&A leg o mutton case that had already been fixed so well in all the usual places that it took me a while to see the repairs.As I was gently cleaning it up with saddle soap and mink oil I was thinking that I have made enough laps around our glowing orb to know that there had to be a fly in the ointment somewhere, my luck is never this good.About that time inside the cap I see a stamp 20 ga.I smacked myself in the forehead with the heel of my hand as I had found my fly.I know that anyone who is still reading this understands that there's only one right way to fix a situation like this.I still have a gun needing a case, and now I have a nice case without a gun for it.So now I need a decent 20 ga. sxs for my case and a case for the Smith.Since I seem to be very brittle now I think I will give up the 10 ga idea and look for a decent 20 guage sxs and save for a southern quail hunt, one where they haul us geezers around in a mule drawn wagon.My grandpa used to hunt prairie chickens in Saskatchewan with his own mules and wagon over a century aso when he homesteaded there.A day's bag would be over 100 birds that would be canned for winter meat.His son, my uncle, many years ago let me use grandpa's shotgun one afternoon on a rabbit and quail hunt on his farm .I shot better that afternoon than I ever have before or since. I got my limit,both birds
and bunnies, but much more than that it was as if grandpa was with me all afternoon looking over my shoulder coaching me.When I was born grandpa's hunting days were past and that afternoon with his old gun in my hands was as near as I will ever get to hunting with him.To say that it was the hunt of a lifetime would be as inadequate as saying that the sun is hot.If I were to get to take every game animal and bird on earth all of them together wouldn't mean half as much as those few hours with his gun and my memories of him mean to me.I was hanging out with a precious great granddaughter on Christmas Eve and somehow the topic of Christmas presents came up.She looked into my old eyes and told me that the only present she wanted from me was for me to stay alive.I know the feeling.I wish I could have had more time with the only grandpa I ever knew.I know that I have drifted pretty wide of the line this time and I hope that those of you who don't like that don't want to take me out behind the woodshed and shoot me.I promise to try to do better next time.
 

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Heck, sorry I had to quit deer hunting due to leg spasms. I could no longer use a climbing tree stand, as I would get let spasms working the bottom section with my legs. I couldn't get down once up and often got spasms going up. A 4 gauge would of taken care of that, would of spun me around the tree like a nut on a bolt LOL!!!!!
 
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