OK so here is a lesson learned that could have been tragic.
In my youth I really enjoyed partridge hunting.
So much so that I bought an Ithaca Deerslayer just for hunting birds.
The improved cylinder lets the shot open fast something you really need when hunting these birds because they are so fast and usually found in the thickest junk you can get into.
You don't really get a chance to lead the bird so a fast opening pattern is essential.
You need a quick blast.
I don't recall ever getting a second shot, at least not one that had any results.
My short hunting career had taught me that the partridge were always in the same places, year after year.
All I had to do was look for something that I didn't want to walk through and that's where they would be.
I did have my favorite places many of them along old logging trails.
Hey there is a tip! After a few years these trails become overgrown with brush, a great hiding place for birds.
Anyway this particular day I was determined to have a good hunt.
I was up a little early because we also had a few bow-hunters in camp this week.
They liked the fact that I was going to be out walking around and maybe move the deer a little for them.
I was not into bow-hunting myself yet.
My legs were still young and hadn't realized the benefit of sitting in a tree all day.
I would do several uphill climbs a day and think nothing of it.
My game plan for hunting was simple.
Head for the areas I knew the birds liked and then stalk.
Walk, stop, take a step, stop, walk, inching my way through hoping to flush a bird that I could get a shot at.
My father taught me this method and told me that the birds would get nervous when you stop thinking you saw them and thats what made them flush.
He insisted that if you just walked with out the stopping that you would just walk by the birds who feel safe by hiding.
I don't know if this is scientifically correct but it seemed to work so I stuck with it.
There were times when this theory didn't seem to make sense because sometimes the birds would flush way out in front and I wouldn't even see them, just hear them.
It was mid-morning and I had already flushed a few birds but against my theory they were too far out front to even think about a shot but that didn't discourage me as it felt good to at least be moving some birds.
I decided to take a hike up an old road that started at our cabin, and then I would head in for lunch.
As I walked along I was really anticipating getting my first shot of the day.
Slowly I made my way, stopping, waiting, walking, stopping again.
I had this down to a science and I really enjoyed it remembering how many times one of these birds would explode off the ground often times scarring the crap out of me .
Slowly I was moving and then all of a sudden like a bomb going off I flushed a bird.
With lightning speed I raised my gun ready to spray the atmosphere with bb's.
But something was wrong.
My synopses were firing.
My sensories were ringing alarms.
There straight in front of me about fifteen feet and two feet to my right was a man in camo screaming don't shoot, don't shoot.
The scene registered and I quickly put the gun back at rest.
The look on this hunters face was total fear.
He knew he almost bought the farm as the partridge flew right over his head.
I too was shaking by this time and I asked him what the hell was wrong with him, didn't he see me, I'm wearing orange, I'm 6'4", I got a gun in my hand.
He told me he just wanted to see how close I would have got to him before I saw him.
He wanted to see how good his camo was.
It was damn near good enough to get him killed.
If you don't see the moral to this story your as dumb as the guy with the camo that day.
When you are hunting and you see another hunter and he has a gun in his hand, do whatever you have to do to get his attention so he knows you are there.
The funny thing is that years later after I got to know the guy better, I wished I had shot him.
Just Kidding