In 1968 one of our hunting partners at Indian Lake got lucky enough to kill a Canada Goose. First one any of us had ever seen killed on our lake. He and Dad were hunting our blind in the Reed Patch. Foggy morning, not much moving. Finally crippled down a Bluebill. It swam back into the reeds behind the blind and Dad was back in there, searching for it, when he heard a Goose honk. He looked up and there were a half dozen geese sailing into the decoys. His partner stood up and shot, taking off a wingtip on his third shell, Dad eventually found the crippled goose out in the fog.
I remember when our friend got back to town, he brought the goose over so I could see it. Beautiful.
About that time, another friend of Dad's came across a deal to buy some 10 gauge magnum AYA Matador doubles. It was a magnificent piece. Dad hunted with the guys that bought them, over on a nearby lake that held a few geese and they all killed birds and loved the big guns.
Shells were expensive, Dad set up a loader so he could reload his empties and save some money. He practiced a little with the big gun, and was all ready for the next season.
Curiously enough, I was able to get off opening day the following year. Not only was I excited but I was anxious to see what the big magnum could do. I could just envision knocking down entire flocks of ducks. I killed a couple of ducks early and we were enjoying our day. In the distance we spotted a single Canada Goose winging our way. Dad said for me to kill it if it came by. But, even though I had never killed a goose, I told him to take it because I wanted to see the big gun in action. Sure enough the goose came in and Dad stood up and killed it. A 20 gauge gun would have killed it, it was so close. But not only did the 10 gauge knock the bird clear over on it's back, but fire and smoke roared out of the gun when he fired. Awesome.
Dad immediately opened his gun and looked at the empty shell. It was all burned and charred. I sent the dog to retrieve his goose and told him how totally impressed that I was with his 10 gauge. He was not all that impressed. He was concerned about the fire and smoke. Finally decided that a wad must have been slightly cocked in the shell he had reloaded and that had caused the strange explosion when he fired. Whatever, the wonder of the big magnum still excited me.
A couple weeks later, Dad and I were out in the blind again. Slow morning, so he decided to take the boat over to a marina and get some beer and sandwiches. Sounded good to me. Not only the snacks, but me being alone in the blind with the 10 gauge. I have never hunted so hard, or watched so closely for ducks in my life. I wanted so badly to shoot the big gun. Finally a nice flock of Mallards came my way. Probably were close enough to shoot, but I was nervous and wasn't sure. They landed outside the decoys, but immediately started swimming away. I was crushed. I thought on busting them on the water, but was afraid to try. I told Dad about the Mallards when he got back. He said that the big magnum was not magic. It really couldn't kill birds any farther away, just had a much denser pattern due to the 2 ounces of shot in each shell.
Dad continued to shoot the 10 gauge for a few years. But was never 100% happy with the performance. Plastic, shot cup wads had been invented around that time frame, making drastic improvements in the patterning and performance of our 12 gauge guns, but nobody was manufacturing those new wads for 10 gauge shells. After I got my 870 3" magnum, Dad became increasingly disappointed with the performance of his 10 gauge. I attributed it to my superior gunning skills, but I was definitely out shooting Dad on the ducks. Christmas week of '71 or '72 we were having a great Mallard and Black migration and really stacking up the birds. After Dad missed both barrels on a long shot, I killed the bird stone dead. Right there in the blind, he said he was getting rid of the 10 and getting himself a 12 gauge magnum like I shot.
Sure hated to see the beautiful magnum double go. I even tracked it down 15 years later and tried to buy it back, but had no luck. The new owner had retired from duck hunting, and retired the gun along with him.
I know that I was just a youngster, and Dad was probably right about that bad shell he fired and killed that first goose, but to this day I still have a great mental image of the fire and smoke and dead goose on it's back in the decoys.
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