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I was around five when my dad took me to the beach with a .410 over/under to teach me to shoot. I had nagged him constantly since it was winter and h kpt coming home with wild ducks he had shot. I had a relationship with my dad like Trump has with his daughter. Inseparable! Anyway, he set a tin can on a little mound of sand, loaded a shell and helped me aim. When i said I was ready he told me to pull the trigger and when i did it smacked me ob my little fanny. Sure he had closed the issue, he asked me if I’d “had enough.” I said no because i hadn’t hit the can! A few shots later, I did hit the can and that can full of lead shot stood on the top of my dresser until I went away to college. Every once in a while i’d pick it up and shake it to hear the shot rattle. Needless to say, it wasn’t but a couple of years and i was hunting with Dad. That was over 70 years ago but i remember it like it was yesterday. I still love to hunt and my guns are my prized possessions. I think I am extremely lucky to have had a dad like I did.
Gunpowder is still my favorite “perfume.”