While admittedly a mishap with a 20-gauge shotgun could do far more than crack Ralphie’s glasses, as his BB gun did in the Christmas Story, it seemed fitting to talk about the shotgun that many of us first carried…the single shot 20-gauge. Ironically, many of us first received this gateway shotgun as a Christmas present, so here we go.
From the early 1900s and before, several companies built and marketed single shot break action shotguns in all gauges. While they were typically light and had no top rib, these shotguns were utilitarian and very cost effective, opening the wing shooting world to many young hunters. Companies like Winchester, Harrington & Richardson, New England Firearms, Savage, Stevens and a whole host of “hardware store” brands found their way onto pheasant and quail fields, as well as trap lines across the country. This was the beginning of my shot gunning story, and you may find some similarities with yours.
Summers were spent with my grandfather fishing the lakes and rivers around Sandusky Bay. He was a firm believer in the safe and regular use of firearms for marksmanship and hunting alike. While, like everyone else I know, started with a Daisy BB gun, as soon as he felt the time was right, I graduated to the .22 long rifle (shooting .22 shorts) and eventually to the New England Firearms .20-gauge. The combination of age and miles on my physical chassis enlightened me to Grandpa’s astute mindfulness of unnecessary negative impacts on the body…like recoil. On an afternoon following a successful fishing jaunt to White’s Landing and a mess of crappie, it was time to graduate to the .20-gauge, albeit with a brown rubber slip on recoil pad. Grandpa knew.
These shotguns are pretty durable, although not very refined. Simple wood and action designs combine with good American steel and manufacturing to culminate in a relatively light and functional shotgun capable of taking game or breaking targets. The issue with these has always been the weight. They are light, and even a .410 can produce noticeable recoil, particularly for a 10-year-old. Nevertheless, it was the day and us GenXer’s were born with the “send it” ethos, so it was happening.
After another discussion about firearm safety and proper functioning of this shotgun, we reconvened to the back yard near the compost pile. Grandpa placed four milk jugs filled with water on top of the cinder blocks which framed the compost pile. While he was adamant about safety, he also liked reactionary targets so today we would simultaneously blow-up milk jugs, while I would learn the true potential power of a shotgun at 20 yards.
Grandpa took the first shot, while I was instructed to watch closely and observe the recoil on his shoulder. Grandpa was not a large man but held the shotgun firmly in his shoulder and was moved when the round went off, “not too bad at all” I thought. It was now my turn and first I would just shoot the gun into grass pile next to the compost pile, in order to get used to the recoil. The shot went off without a hitch, I certainly knew I fired a powerful gun, and my shoulder moved a bit, but the slip-on recoil pad mitigated the punch from the plastic butt plate and my feet stayed in place.
Now acclimated to what I at the time viewed as the finest shotgun ever to grace the hands of man, it was time to get after an actual target. I kept the muzzle pointed down range as instructed as I opened the breech and replaced the spend shell with a fresh #8 - 2 ¾ inch field load. Closing the breech and taking aim at the first milk jug, I cocked the exposed hammer, careful to ensure the gun was firmly in my shoulder and let it fly. At 20 yards, with a full choke, the pattern is pretty dense and turned the milk jug inside out. Water went everywhere. It was exhilarating yet controlled and is perhaps one of my fondest memories from Clyde, Ohio. I am a shotgunner now.
After returning home to Michigan and starting both school and football season, I longed for an opportunity to take that shotgun into the field, perhaps over a fine spaniel, and harvest my first wild winged fowl. As luck would have it, football season ended, wrestling season began and pretty soon Christmas was upon us.
That Christmas morning, at age 10 (almost 11), I woke up early as most kids do and pestered my parents to get out of bed and get to opening presents. What I didn’t know then was that my parents were always tired from late Christmas Eve’s wrapping presents and filling stockings…they were weary and rightfully wanted to sleep in a bit. After some rousing, they got up and we began opening presents and pilfering through fat stockings. There was a large box wrapped and sitting off to the side, with my name on it. My mom and dad typically selected the order of presents we opened and for some reason, this one was not on the top of the list. Finally, after wrapping paper littered the floor everywhere, that large box was the only one left. I picked it up and took it to my designated seat where I tore into it like a rabid honey badger, knowing that it had to be something great…and it was. The very New England Firearms .20 gauge that I had fired the past summer was now mine.
At the time, the wood wasn’t plain to me, nor the design simple or antiquated. It was perfect, perhaps the finest single-shot .20 gauge ever built, and it was now permanently in my possession bound for adventures in a duck blind or a pheasant field. Perhaps even someday, I will use this magnificent piece of steel and wood to take a white tail. The possibilities were endless and my imagination was filled with the literal piles of game I would be harvesting with this shotgun.
It truly was a magical Christmas, simple and full of wonder. Perhaps that is mostly what we long for from our thoughts of nostalgia and days past. Whether it be that first quail or duck, first cottontail in front of eager beagles or even the first northern pike on an old Zebco 33, these memories are cemented in our minds and replay with precise recollection. They feed our dreams and longing for days when a plain old beat up 70-dollar shotgun could elicit more joy and possibility than anything else one could dream of.
From the team here at Wing & Clay Life we would like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and we hope that shiny new shotgun you’ve been dreaming of shows up under your tree this year.
