“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.
