Hitting High Flying Doves
Rolling thunder had the ground shaking underfoot. A flash of lightning, and then another, foretold what was coming. But the doves were flying, so I wasn’t ready to run for the bus yet. My long-barreled 28-gauge was scoring regularly.
“Stay in the gun. Hard focus on the bird’s head. Stay smooth,” I kept reminding myself, perhaps to keep my mind off the rain that the sky promised. Just as I felt the first patter of rain, there was my favorite shot –an incomer right to left–passing on my left. The 20-gram 28-gauge load hit that bird very hard at about 25 yards.
The patter of rain increased a bit. I looked at my secretario, Jesus, and pointed the opened 32-inch barrels toward the Mercedes-Benz minibus. Jesus shook his head up and down, and followed that with, Si, señor.” He covered the case of shells with a…
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