I THINK THE STARS ARE BEGINNING TO ALIGN.

Sometimes you just get lucky.  Last month I walked into a local gun shop  and did my "fly-by" routine.  I checked out all the used shotguns--that's my market.  As I was leaving the store, I saw it.  It  yelled "Grouse Gun!" to me from across the room and my heart heard it.  There, on consignment, was a Model 200E 20 guage Ithaca SKB double-barreled shotgun.  Lust burned within me.  I asked to see it.  The  shotgun was used, but still in very good condition--less a slight blemish on the stock.  I figured that in one season, I'd add a several more.

(My shooting had been off this year, and I knew that buying it wouldn't be the solution--but if I were going to get back on track, this is the gun I would use to do it.)

I "mounted" the gun a few times.  It was sweet.  I found myself thinking about that part in the Bible where a pearl merchant found a 'pearl of great price' and "went and sold all that he had, and bought it."  Using the clerks tape measure, I measured the barrel length, the pull, and checked everything I could. Then I went home and got on the computer.  The measurements indicated that the gun was "stock" and hadn't been altered.  The lust continued to grow. My mouth went dry.  I had it bad.


I once owned a Model 100 Ithaca SKB in 12 guage.  I liked it a lot, but it was too heavy.  After several miles it wore me down. This little shotgun was like a dream date for the junior prom.

I had a 20 guage CZ Ringneck that I wanted very much to trade--it felt like cordwood to me.  I also had an old pistol that would have made a better hammer.  I thought to myself, "I wonder if I can get 'close enough' to trade?"  (You see, my wife and I have an agreement that anything over $100, we discuss before I buy--a seemingly foolish agreement on my part, but I'm "locked in".)

Similar Model with 28" barrels

Bright and early the next morning, I walked into the store.  The Ithaca was still there.  I presented my two objects for scrutiny.  The owner evaluated both of them and--after an eternity of calculating and re-calculating-- said that they would trade and give me $5.  I grabbed the deal.   One man's trash.... Grinning,  I called my wife while on the way home.

Next, I needed to get back in the game.

If I'd been "stimulated" with a "training collar" every time I "missed" this season,  I'd be stuttering now.  It was time to act.  I was making excuses for my poor performance and this had to stop.   (See previous post on September 13:  Busting Clays--Or Not!)

Here's the transcript of the actual email I sent to a shooting instructor in Maine:

Dear Mr. Varney,
I'm finally facing the fact that I've developed some bad habits and probably never learned good ones for wing shooting.  It's gotten so bad that my dog sent me away for shooting "therapy".  I need your help to get my game improved.  Perhaps spring?
Den

Here's the transcript of the actual response:

Dennis, if your dog could talk he would tell you to take a lesson with me so you could hold up your end.  I do lessons by appointment till we get plowable snow.  At that point I wait till the snow melts.
I suggest you call me ... to discuss your needs and my schedule.
Brad
PS:  Please tell your dog that help is just around the corner.



I turned in my chair and  told  K-Lee what Brad had written.  She left me and returned with the phone.
I think the stars are beginning to align.