When I was about 12-13, I remained at home on the farm while Mom, Dad, And Brother went to town. A migrating flock of Perigrine Falcons were hovering around Moms laying hens apparently looking for an easy dinner. I went into the house and got the shotgun and the several shells that we had and killed several. After I ran out of shot shells, I retrieved the .22. Since the birds were kind of hovering over the chicken pens, I went to work with the .22, killing another dozen or so out of the air, before the rest finally moved on. Not really difficult as they were close to stationary in flight at maybe 25-30 yards up.
Another time, and in a land far away, I forgot that it offended the state and shot a fork horn between the eyes at about 40 yards with my 39A Mountie. DRT. I had spent the week end guiding Nephew, step grandson and his friend each to successful first deer kills. Sunday afternoon, I went to a box stand overlooking a feeder. I had the Marlin, a shotgun, and a deer rifle with me. Quail, deer, and turkey were eating my corn. Mother-in-law needed a nice meat deer ever so often for me to stay in her favor. The fork horn made me and would not leave. He was kind of stalking me, and at close range, the .22 seemed to be a less messy kill........
Brother drove up to the farm house in Dad's farm truck. A crow was sitting atop the barn about 70 yards away. Brother got Dad's Ruger MK1 (without a rear sight) from underneath the seat and hip shot the crow dead, then casually went in for lunch. Got to be cool in those times!
Jack
Last edited by jt402; 09/20/17.
