A Duck Hunter is Born

Al Hansen

Well-known member


He was born in 1941, to parents who knew nothing about guns and in fact, were quite afraid of them. As his eyes began to open to the world around him, he did realize that if he were to be successful in one of his life’s accomplishments, then maybe a plan needed to be put into place.
This young lad of 12 had just moved to western Minnesota the year before and found a classmate that lived just down the street. It was in late October that Bobby a.k.a. Knuckles, came walking down the street with his 28 gauge slung over his shoulder and carrying a cock pheasant in his right hand. Just down the block from his house was where the countryside opened up and that is where he shot the bird.
At that particular time of the young lad’s life, it was the very first time in which he had shown so much envy that it caused him to cry in jealousy. How come he wasn’t the one carrying that bird and how come that wasn’t his shotgun?
In the minds of all youth, creativity is born every second of the day and in his mind the plan began to evolve. Just by chance, the boy had been with his parents when they went to sign for the house that his folks had purchased the year before. Mr. Martin Schoen was already in his middle 70's when the lad one day dropped by his office to collect money for the paper he delivered at his house on a daily basis. In that office was when the youth’s eyes for the first time focused on all of the guns that he had. Little did he know that Mr. Schoen was also a gun collector/dealer. As the lad strolled about the small office looking at any number of shotguns, he kept on going back to the Winchester Model 12 Sweet 16. It was used and Mr. Schoen said that he needed to have $55.00 for it. The 12 year old thought about that, said, “Thank you, sir,” and left for home.
That night at home while in bed, he lay there thinking about what had transpired during the day and it was then that “the” plan began to take shape. He had over $4.00 in his piggy bank and a paper route that brought in at least a dollar a week. Remember that back then when he went to the Saturday afternoon matinee, to watch Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers, or Gene Autry, in a western thriller, the movie was $0.12, a bag of popcorn was $0.05 and of course a huge Baby Ruth candy bar was necessary to have and that, too, was $0.05. Back then his allowance was 25 cents a week and it would buy more than enough for his weekly needs.
As luck would have it the young boy thought about Christmas that was only about two months away. To him that meant more money because on his paper route he had some wonderful customers. Most of them were so kind and giving that he would receive and extra quarter as a Christmas gift when he went on his collection route. Once in a while he even got a half dollar and a few times his customers would take out their billfolds or purses and pull out a dollar bill. It always seemed like a miracle and that is just what it became.
He fell asleep that night with visions of shotguns in his head and maybe someday walking down the street holding on to a cock pheasant like Knuckles had done. Just that morning the boy’s next door neighbor had hung four ducks on the clothesline pole when he got home from a hunt. He thought about that, too as he drifted off to sleep.
The following Saturday, the youngster got on his Schwinn and rode downtown to Mr. Schoen’s office. Yes, the gun of his dreams was still there. He then pulled out of his jean pocket $4.67 and counted it out. His down payment so to speak. Before he left the office, he told the old gent that he would come back every week and pay something on his bill until his shotgun was paid for.
He had plenty of scratches on his hands and arms to show for the wild raspberries that he picked in the summer time. He also knew where every clump of wild asparagus grew along the old highway that skirted Big Stone Lake. Because of his paper route he had some regular customers who would buy his berries or asparagus. He never turned down a baby sitting job either.
By September of 1954, the young lad walked into Mr. Schoen’s office and paid off his bill on that Sweet 16. I guess the old gent could see something in his eyes because as he was about to walk out the door with his shotgun, he said, “Hey, young feller, you have to put that in a case.” It was then that he gave the lad one for the shotgun. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much for all of your help.” The kid jumped on his bike and was heading for home----wide eyed and bushy tailed.
He knew that his folks were going to be home later and his pesky sister was with them, so everything was perfect for going home and hiding the shotgun. His parents had no clue as to his dealings with it.
The next segment of the plan was now coming together. He needed people who his parents respected and believed in so he set out to make this all come true. The first hunter on his list was his next door neighbor. He had to be the best duck hunter in all of Big Stone county. The second man was the family doctor by the name of Fran Karn and then the young lad rounded off that list with his final pick of Dr. C.J. Reed, who was in his father’s church choir. All of these men loved to hunt and fish and so finally on a Saturday evening on a very specified time that the young lad had given each of the men, they all arrived at his parent’s house.
At first, his parents were rather confused about the three men all arriving around 7:00PM and then it was even more confusing to them as he asked each of the men to tell his folks all of the “good things” about duck and pheasant hunting. Finally each man said that they would be happy in taking this young man out hunting with them so that he could be taught the proper hunting techniques and especially about gun safety.
It was then that the boy’s father spoke up and said, “After hearing what these three men have said and knowing how much this means, we will give you permission to do so. You already know how we feel about guns. However, you have to realize that we can’t afford to buy a shotgun and of course that is something that you’ll have to do on your own.” It was then, that this huge smile crept across his face and he made a mad dash upstairs to his bedroom closet where he had successfully hidden his shotgun for almost one month. Each of the men examined it and told the youth’s parents how good a gun it really was. It was a thrill for the boy to see the astonished looks on their faces.
From that time on, especially after that first bluewing teal got stuffed into his hunting coat, there was no holding him back. 1954 was a wonderful year for this young duck hunter but you can’t imagine how he is looking forward to the 2010 season.
Al
 
Great story! 1954 huh, thats 3 yrs before my eyes opened to the world. Like you I bought my first gun, ithica 37-12ga with paper route money. Still got & still use it, great gun! I was luckier, my dad hunted & started taking me with him from bout 4 & onwards. Thanks for reviving old memories.
Dennis
 
Al, I can't tell you how your story brought back memories. My first gun was given to me by my uncle who you may know-Myron. A 20 ga. Stevens single shot that I still have, do you still have your Mod. 12?? I have to run now but thanks for the trip down memory lane to Big Stone County
 
Al,

Great story. I had to keep running back to my computer between patients to finish the story. You certainly kept my interest.
 
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