Every time I see Anthony's photo with his Moosberg it reminds me of a high school, late season hunt. I believe it was a group of six in two boats. We were heading to a breakwater at the mouth of the Connecticut River, having to follow a barge out to break the ice ahead of us. In those days, there was actually solid ice during the season and barges/tankers carried oil up to Hartford. Conditions were perfect for a good day and we had a new hunter along, on what I recall was his first time.
Upon arrival at the wall we unload some gear and a couple of hunters so we can rig out without climbing over each other. As the guns are being transferred to the wall, although they are all cased, one gets dropped to the sound of a nice crack. I knew it wasn't mine, and a couple of the other guys start ribbing the new guy, who was obviously the victim. Nothing like high-school age kids, like the old saying goes, when something bad happens half the people don't care and the other half are glad it happened to you and not them.
When we get situated, it's a perfectly clear, cold day with the wind at our back. A dream day. Out come the guns, the new guy has a bolt action (maybe Mossberg but not sure) with what's now a two piece stock. The stock split from the buttplate to the trigger guard leaving a potentially lethal spear to absord recoil.
Choices needed to be made, maybe take him back in and get another gun, but too late-the ice has closed up again so we're staying awhile. We decide his best bet is to take a boat cushion, lash it to his shoulder, and use that to take the recoil. Somehow it worked and the guy wasn't harpooned to death but the cushion was destroyed. Great day for all with lots of birds, the new guy was hooked and had himself a new gun in a couple of days.
I miss being a kid. [smile]
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