I missed my fifth shot in a row. Meg the cocker whined and pulled at her lead. Pigeons were coming from all directions into the line of oaks behind me or straight over the decoys to the front. But could I hit them? Could I heck. The dog tried to jump into my lap and failed, catching me square in what cricket commentators call ‘the box area’.
It was my first outing with a new Beretta, bought out of necessity rather than choice. A break-in had seen my beloved Miroku stolen (though not its fore-end). This new weapon felt heavier at the muzzle; the safety catch and barrel selector were unfamiliar. And whereas my Miroku flopped open when I broke it, this new addition to the armoury needed a strong pair of forearms — not ideal in the confines of a pigeon hide.
Textbook shot
A sixth bird approached. Easy: straight in from the front, gently dropping and reducing in speed. It was a textbook decoying shot coming directly into the pattern.
I mounted the gun deliberately, pushed through the bird and squeezed the trigger. Nothing. I nudged forward on the safety catch again with my thumb. It didn’t shift. I squeezed. Still no report. The bird turned on its tail, followed by language I’d reprimand my kids for using. Looking down, I could see the barrel selector sitting midway between its settings for top and bottom; neither barrel would fire. At this, the dog gave a determined yank and the hide collapsed. The warm air became warmer and the sky a little more blue.
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