In my family shotguns and fall mornings went together like pancakes and sausage. This past fall I had the pleasure to take both my sons (Liam 15 and Kohl 13) to a Pheasants Forever Youth Hunt in Central Indiana. My boys got to enjoy shooting clays and learning about not only pheasant hunting but the hunting tradition. The day was capped off by each boy getting to go to the field with a guide, a dog and dog handler after two planted birds. As a parent I got to watch from the clubhouse as the events unfolded, what an exciting thing to watch. My oldest son was hunting with my grandfather’s 12 gauge Ranger. My dad had passed away the previous summer and I was blessed to receive this shotgun, I had long admired it for its history and beauty. The history of this gun was quite a story; when my Grandfather was about 12, had sold a prized 4H hog so he could purchase the Ranger from Sears and Roebuck, he ordered from the local catalog store. Shortly after receiving the gun he came down with the mumps and was in bed for quite a while, but he put the time to good use. Grandpa hand checkered the stock and forearm slide, he also inlaid a maple checkerboard pattern in the stock and added some maple inlays on the bottom of the stock, and as a final touch impressed two copper insignia (one with his name and the other his hometown) one on each side of the stock. At the end of the day we took pictures and then I told my boys the story of the shotgun. That Ranger is nearly 90 years old and has been used in the field for nearly 9 decades. Tears filled my eyes as I told this story to my boys, they never met my Grandpa and never hunted with my Dad but somehow I felt they were there with us in the field that day.
