“Dad, you said it wasn't going to kick me much….”

Sometime last Spring Logan got it in his little head that he was ready for the big leagues. He had tagged along on enough hunts. Studied on the heels of his father long enough. Sat through endless hours of Outdoors Television asking all the right questions. Been the bird dog and done his time.  He now had a plan to be a gun-toting member of the hunting party.

Logan’s Plan = Convince Mom and then give Dad a sound financial plan.

As birthday cards rolled in for his big sister, Logan began to realize that his October birthday could be a real money making venture. Emma quickly topped a hundred dollars and spent it almost equally as fast on dolls and glitter. As the big sister reveled in the glow of recreational spending money, you could tell that Logan was realizing that if he played his cards right and bet on all of the right relatives, this was a done deal.

With his October birthday fast approaching and cards starting to trickle in, Logan used a routine family trip to Fleet Farm to size up some firearms. .20 gauge or .410?  Matched pair, single shot or pump? Logan was a 5 year old on a mission to be a 6 year old gun owner. As an early stipulation he carefully scrutinized each possibility by asking, “Can it shoot turkeys?”. Our hunting buddies brought over their pump action, Mossberg Bantam .20 gauge that 8 year old Nolan “just” grew into. Even with the shooting stick, it was too much of an elephant gun for Logan to shoulder. Although it was a sharp looking gun and outfitted to the gills for turkeys, the 13-inch stock proved to be too big a hill to climb for the Bear. But it did plant a seed.

On Logan’s own accord, he forfeited a traditional birthday party so that Mom and Dad would agree to fund the remaining balance of his purchase. Only in Kindergarten, Logan had obviously paid attention during Math and Economics lessons. With money in hand and a trip down the interstate, Pandora’s Box was opened.  Gander Mountain associates clamored to help the eager young customer. Even though he wasn’t tall enough to see over the counter, 3 brand new shotguns lay before him. A Bantam .410 was screaming dad’s name and begging to go grouse hunting. A beautiful synthetic stocked Super Bantam in .20 gauge topped the budget but it’s 12” stock caught Logan’s eye. The Matched Pair Rossi .410/.17 HMR never really had a chance. So we tracked Mom down in, of all places, the Shoe Section and asked for her approval.

The salesman turned on the charm and Michele was quickly swayed on a .20 gauge that could be used for turkeys, geese, grouse, and just about everything for years to come.  Believing it was the right choice, she gave the OK to buy the upgrade. I may kick myself one day but Logan and I knew that as beautiful and impressive as the Super Bantam was, now was not the time. Although the shorter stock allowed the half pint to correctly mount the gun, the .20 gauge was not going to be able to be carried on our next grouse hunt, let alone shot without a shooting stick anytime soon. Logan wanted a weapon that he could tote in the grouse woods and fire at will. With that, we politely parted ways with Gander Mountain and headed for Fleet Farm. Our 6 year old knew exactly what he wanted.

Firmly convinced and comfortable with his decision, Logan said, “Dad, if it’s still there I want to buy it.” Without much fanfare, he walked up to the Fleet Farm sales counter, spied the piece and laid his money down. Of course there was obligatory paperwork because gun laws nowadays just don’t allow handing over a “heavy iron” to a kindergartner. Mom and Logan picked out 2 boxes of ammo and thankfully, Dad passed the background check. With a smile that could light up any room and a spring in his step, Logan was the proud owner of a TUFFY, .410 gauge, single shot, Rossi shotgun. (Commonly know as a “Snake Charmer.”)

At 34.25 inches from tip to tip, this cute little bugger was no toy. Logan beamed with pride on our way home as he drank in the idea that this 3” chambered, .410 with a 18.5 inch barrel and black synthetic thumbhole stock with generous texturing and 4 round capacity in the buttstock was actually his! With his sound financial plan, Bear covered the entire cost and the 3 pound hunting machine that now rest in is lap was just waiting for their lifetime of memories to begin.

A few days of ownership and admiration passed before we were able to set aside some time and secure a place to test fire this beast. Coach Mettling offered up his parents’ farmyard just north of Pine City and one evening after football practice Logan and I ran out there. We carefully choose a tree with some nice back brush to tack a paper plate in. It was just before dusk and you could sense the excitement and anticipation of a moment that Logan had waited so patiently for. Small game vest and matching blaze orange hat gave the three-footer the appearance of a seasoned veteran. I could see that he was nervous because he got quiet. But you could also feel his calming nature take over as he sidled up to me to await final instructions.

As I was instructed by Momma, I asked Logan if he wanted to be the first one to shoot his new gun or if he wanted Dad to show him how loud it would be or how big of a kick it my give.

No.

Me.

I presented my boy with a live shotgun round and helped him with the breach. The matte blued finish of cold steel made the front sight brass bead easy to see as the sun reached the horizon. Placing a reassuring hand on his right shoulder, I knelt beside him and whispered that he’d be O.K. With his heart racing a million miles an hour, he struggled to pull the hammer back and then calmly switched the weapon to FIRE. As he had previously learned on his BB gun, the Bear pressed his cheek to the buttstock and acquired his target.

BAM!

The .410 barked and did a complete three hundred and sixty degree flip out of the child’s hands. The paper plate had been rocked! In one motion I scooped up the gun and my son and showered him with positive praise. “You did it! You hammered it! Great shot Logan! Wow! You’re awesome!”

Logan stood there stunned and Coach Mettling grinned. It was more than the little guy had expected. It was nothing like shooting Dad’s .22 Not even in the same ballpark as his “baby” old BB Gun. As I poured on the praise, I could see Logan’s eyes fill with tears. But he never once let one little tear escape the edges of those beautiful little eyes. He held it in. Perhaps without Coach Mettling there, the waterworks may have been on. But not tonight!

 Logan was now ready for Dad and Mr. Mettling to have a turn. He was ready to be the observer for a while but sure enough, “he got back on that horse for another go’round”.

Logan fired his .410 two more times that evening, both with some minor assistance from his old man. I was proud. Mettling was proud. But most of all, Logan was proud - too proud to cry but shaken, no doubt. The good news is, since that night, we have purchased a neoprene shock absorber that has taken the sting and some of the bite away from the Snake Charmer. Logan’s big sister and a couple of his friends have fired it. The bruises have faded and Logan has toted it on a half a dozen miles of grouse trails Although he doesn’t have his first confirmed kill with it yet, he did ask Dad to take a red squirrel with it.

For Logan, this gun was the right choice. He is one step closer to being a man… but he’d better concentrate on finishing kindergarten first.