Ammo

It was 6:52 AM, and according to my local sunrise table, legal shooting time had just begun. And as if scheduled for an early breakfast with me, a muffled bunch of distant quacks signaled the ducks were right on time. I gave a little feeding call, and readied my thumb over the gun's safety.

The grey overcast sky had kept the ambient light low, and a flock of about 20 duck silhouettes appeared, fluttering in my direction like so many moths to a flame. They passed over the tops of some nearby trees and dropped altitude while crossing an old railroad track, determined to land in the bend of the little creek where I had a simple stool of four mallard decoys.

With wings cupped, the ducks lined up, teetering down one behind the other to land in the inviting stream only to find that they were flying the gauntlet with loads of No. 4 shot as their antagonist.

Ducks whizzed down the cut and past my blind as I centered the muzzles of the old side-by-side just under the bill the first incoming drake I could identify. The "bang!" of the 12-gauge shattered the excited duck chatter, and the familiar "splash" of a dead duck hitting the water validated my effort to get up early and face the bitter cold winter air.

Instinctively, the flock pitched up from the creek to get away from the "bad sound" only to pass right over my head. I singled out another drake and connected solidly with it from the second barrel. The satisfying "thud" of it hitting the ground behind me signaled an end to the first volley, and an easy double to start my day.

To say January 2009 was memorable is an understatement. The world economy was in shambles, the United States swore in its first African American President, gun sales were through the roof, and a nationwide cold snap was severe enough that it should make even Al Gore question the validity of global warming.

Many will forget that cold snap, but not me. For the first time I can remember, it was so cold for so long that all the standing water in the valley I call home froze solid, making my otherwise ho-hum duck hunting spot nothing less than a honey hole, as the spring-fed creek was one of only a few pieces of open water literally for miles.

Those historic events will also help to remind me that I used a new non-lead shot for the first time—one that not only seems to work very well, but also allows me to return a faithful old double gun to the field where it belongs. Steel and most tungsten-based shot had unfortunately retired that old friend when it came to waterfowl, as the hardness of those types of shot might be more than the old steel barrels with their fixed Improved Modified and Full chokes can handle.