One of the most remarkable shots I've ever seen was my Father killing three big Skunkheads with one shot. They were close, they were knotted up tight, so it wasn't the shooting skill that was so amazing, The thing that really made it stand out was that Dad was shooting some of his first attempt at steel shot reloads. They were so weak that when you shot into the water it didn't even make a splash. But, of course, he was determined to kill something with the pathetic shells.. By golly he did!
One year in the blind at Blackhawk Island I made a couple unusual shots. Stood up on a pass of Buffs, and shot just as they disappeared into the sun. One shot, five dead birds floating out of the blind spot on the water. The other was a desperation shot, late in the afternoon on the last day of my hunting season leave. I killed a Mallard hen, flying so high and so fast that she fell 95 yards from the blind. Dad stepped it off on the ice, because he said he had never seen anything like it.
Before the Amtrac knocked down the original Rhodes Point blind, it was 110 yards from the blind to the old tactical boat ramp. I shot a Bluebill drake, so high and flying so fast that it fell on the ramp right among some Marines, who were there launching a boat. They all cheered for me.
One day Kelly and I were just finishing up our limit at Rhodes Point. I needed one more bird. A flock of about 20 Bluebills gave us a nice pass. To ensure that I didn't accidentally double up on them, I purposely shot at the last bird in the flock. Killed it stone dead. BUT, with that one shell being the only one fired, the lead bird in the flock also fell out stone dead. Of course Kelly hollered out, upset with me, for shooting two. She said if she had known I was going over the limit, she would have too. I told her to stop and think on it. Two birds, 25 yards apart, both killed with one shell. I have heard stray pellets called "fliers" before, but never heard of anything that bizarre.
Watched my Father knock down a nice triple at Walnut Island one time. A Redhead, a Bluebill, and a Ringneck.
Wading in chest deep water between the Walnuts, trying to pull the boat to the bank, I grabbed my gun and holding it only with my right hand on the pistol grip, I shot a BW Teal zipping by so close that the shot severed the head.
I shot a hen Pintail out at the Goose Creek Impoundment that was so high and took so long to fall, that my buddy McGee's dog had time to wade out and get under it and try to catch it like a baseball player on a pop fly. Good thing she missed it, it may have killed her or at least broken her jaw.
One day at Rhodes Point, my Father's 1100 broke. I told him we would just take turns using my gun. Well it was his turn when a big drake Goldeneye came by. He missed it three straight shots. I grabbed the empty gun from him, dropped a shell in the side, let it slam closed and killed the bird on a long shot going straight away from us.
One time at Rhodes Point, I was out in the boat chasing a crippled WW Scoter when I saw geese heading to the blind. Kelly was pretty new at duck hunting, but remembered that I always kept some heavy goose loads laying on the top shelf of the blind. What she forgot, was that I also kept some light #6 water kill loads there too. She grabbed a shell, stuck it in her Benelli and made a nice high shot on the goose, killing it stone dead. When I got back to the blind, she told me the "goose load" worked out great. I looked at the shells on the shelf and saw that she had used a 2 3/4" #6 steel water kill load. Oh well.
Out at Hospital Point one time, I had a screaming. down wind pass on Bluebills. Only about 20 yards off the water. I jumped on them with my 870, tripled, and had the classic "3 falling". Nobody there to watch it with me but Hoss. He wouldn't ever tell the story to my hunting partners.
I have seen two very quick shots in my life that really stand out. One was a shot Mike made on a Ringneck at Catfish Lake Impoundment when he was a teenager. The other was a double on Ruddy Ducks that Kevin made at Spring Creek Impoundment. I am pretty fast, but on both of those occasions, I never even got my gun shouldered before the shooting was over.
I did some shooting out at Hospital Point back in the early 80's that my partner Mike McGee was still talking about this past season. We had a lot of ice on the decoys one day and both of us waded out to break it loose. While we were out in the decoys, McGee was facing the river and I was only a couple yards from him, but facing back towards the blind, as we knocked the ice loose. He said to hold still and called at some Bluebills. He said for me not to move, the ducks were coming right at us. He said on the count of three to turn and shoot. So, I did. When I turned, there was a huge flock of Bluebills just arriving. I picked out one, killed it, pumped my gun, and there was another, killed it, pumped my gun, there was another, killed it and my gun was empty. There lay three drake Bluebills on the water, so close to each other that they were touching. I really never swung my gun barrel. The ducks just kept arriving at the one spot where my gun was pointing. Easy shooting, but impressive to an onlooker I guess. Particularly when you had a big pair of leather mittens on and when you tried to shoot your Citori, the first shot went off when you tried to get a finger on the trigger, then the trigger didn't have room to reset and you couldn't shoot again.
On a VERY windy, rough day, shooting Sea Ducks in the Kent Narrows, I knocked down an Oldsquaw flying low on the water. With the height of the waves and the speed of the bird, it just happened to skip off the top of three waves as it fell. Just like skipping a stone across the water.
One day out in the Goose Creek Impoundment, we were having a great morning. Tons of ducks, not much gunning pressure, beautiful, late season plumage on the birds. A dream come true. As we took turns shooting, it came around to me to kill the last bird. I told Tom and McGee that I was holding out for another Bull Sprig. A nice drake came by and I stood up on what was a very easy shot. Missed it clean. Something just didn't feel right. A few more minutes and it happened again. I became a little worried. Something seemed very surreal about my missed shots. I was doing everything right, but for some reason, the birds weren't falling. After the third terrible miss, and the same confusion on my part, I actually began to think that I was having a stroke or some terrible medical problem. Finally I got my last bird. My hunting partners were just having a hoot about me missing so many easy shots. When we got home and I was cleaning my gun, I found a small piece of a weed jammed into the rear of my trigger. I removed the trigger assembly to investigate. When I pulled the trigger, it couldn't move quite far enough for the sear to release and the gun to fire, until you pulled it really hard. So, I can only guess that is what was happening out on the marsh, and my timing was thrown off. My hunting partners said they never saw any debris hanging out of my trigger guard, so they weren't buying it.
Probably the second or third year that Kelly Murphy had been hunting with us, I made a really nice double. Granted, it was on a pair of lowly Hooded Mergansers, but Kelly had never seen how pretty a Hooded drake was, so I shot. They were flying right down the shore, over top of the blind, rather than out over the decoys. Coming really fast, downwind. I killed them both with two very fast shots. They fell well down the river because they had been flying so fast. Cain fetched up the hen first and Kelly was less than impressed. But when Cain brought the drake back, she said it truly was a beautiful bird. I just sat there for a while. Guess I sort of had my feelings hurt. After a few minutes Kelly asked what I was pouting about. I told her that is was sort of customary to compliment another hunter when they make a really nice shot. She paid me an even better compliment than I was hoping for. She said she didn't mean to slight me, but that since she had started hunting with me, she had never seen me miss, so she didn't think it was anything out of the ordinary.
Out grassing a blind one day, Whit and I had a couple of his "friends" out helping us. While we were all in the blind, tying grass bundles, somebody looked out and saw a very large water moccasin swimming by about 30 yards out in the river. I never saw one out in good sized waves before. I asked if anyone had a pistol and Whit pulled one out of his gunning bag. I had to get him to load it for me, it was a model that I had never seen before. Anyhow, I shot at the snake, hitting right in the head and killing it. One of Whit's buddies said that I couldn't ever do that again. I didn't respond to his comment. But, as Whit was putting the pistol back in it's holster, he sort of mumbled under his breath "he doesn't have to".
One day out on Mouse Harbor, the ducks flew real well early, but by mid morning they petered out. We stood there staring at an empty sky until we spied a merganser coming our way. Like a merg would do, it was ignoring our decoys but just cutting across the point where the blind was. Whit shot it and it fell on the shore behind the blind, right next to the piles of Bluebills and Scoters that Patty and Hoss kept segregated back there. Pretty soon here came another merganser. Same exact results. 15 minutes later, the same drill. I knew Whit was a good shot. His much repeated, deliberate shooting style just led to the birds all falling on top of each other back there. He felt good about his shooting. I was enjoying the show, but the dogs got a little concerned. Not used to us shooting mergansers, they were seemingly upset that there were three piles of birds back there and they weren't getting to retrieve them. Patty picked up a Merganser, carried it to the edge of the bank and dropped it in the water. Hoss jumped in and retrieved it. Put it back in the Merganser pile, then both dogs seemed satisfied and went back to watching for more ducks.
In Maine, shooting Eiders, I did well, very pleased with my shooting in pretty tough conditions. Extremely cold and windy. Late in the season and the birds were a little wary. But I was pretty much one shell for each duck. Not having to blast around on the water to kill them. I shot mostly drakes, but actually shot at least one hen per day. The bird banding folks concentrate their efforts on hen Eiders, about 90% of the banded birds are hens. So, I at least took that chance each day. No luck. Well, anyhow, the hunter that I was with had decided not to bring his own shotgun, but rather chose to borrow one from the guide. First time I saw his pattern hit the water, I asked the guide what choke tube was in the gun. He responded that he preferred a cylinder choke for Eider. Sorry, I could not contain myself. I made a couple more 40 yard, stone dead kills on the big birds and then said that is what a pattern is supposed to do, and that I was using a Full choke. He defended his choice, as my partner continued to cripple birds and take only very close shots. Anyhow, on the last day of the hunt, I was finished with my limit before the other hunter had killed any. He finally got a drake to decoy in close enough and knocked him down on his third shot. Once again, I had to mouth off a little. The next pass was fairly close, and he missed on his first two shots, then killed three hens with his last shot. Of course, one was double banded. So, who got the last laugh?
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