Shotguns and other midnight ramblings...

I should preface this with a couple statements: Not everybody should own a gun. There are some people who just aren't cut out to have weapons. Felons, the mentally ill, etc. There are plenty of people who SHOULD have a gun, and don't. That's their choice. I respect it. As for me, I like to have my options. On to the good stuff.

I love my shotgun. It's a great piece of machinery, not too hard to operate, but still complex enough that I know it's secrets better than most. I'm talking about my pump action Remington 870 clone. It's a great piece. This particular one has NEF markings, and happens to have an 18" barrel and an improved cylinder choke. If you were to buy one specific firearm for all around usage, this would be it. It's light enough to carry around, has a big enough magazine to hold off until help arrives, and is universally known as a manstopper and a practical tool. Mine does a lot of bedside duty, loaded with 6 shells of 00 buckshot (Military Grade), and a few more on a cuff on the butt sometimes, or sometimes on the sling.

With winter in full swing here in the buckeye state, getting the hardware out into the field is tough until it warms up a bit, but when we do get a warm snap, I like to take it out and put it through it's paces. 12 gauge is fine for my frame, but a smaller framed gent, young shooter, or woman may decide 20 is fine. I'm with you right there, I love my NEF single shot 20 gauge as well. It's a good shooter, and a lot of fun to play with. Just ask my brother, he's been the recipient of a lot of shells thrown out by it's rather overpowered ejectors.

The 12 gauge is just one in the stable of 3, currently residing between the den and the homestead. My first shotgun came courtesy of my parents... a big Mossberg 835. The next year came it's smaller, more refined sibling, the Mossberg 500. And this year, Mom 'n Dad decided to go big, and brought me home a Ruger P95. I look forward to Christmas more now than ever, as it has turned from a boring religious observance where we all eat too much and drink too much, into a fiesta of firearms and fun.

As my brother and I have grown up, our tastes have too...(Not entirely, but that's a different day's writing) He's a bow hunter now, and I have delightedly taken on the role of "Family Gun Guy", which I relish more and more every day. I don't think there are too many left in the family anymore, as time and circumstance have taken their toll on our families' resources, and typically guns are the first thing to get sold, around here at least.

To my count, I think I've sold or traded in the neighborhood of 12 guns, most of which never bore my name. Some I miss, most I don't. I've become decidedly more picky as time has gone on, and my collection has ebbed and flowed like the tides. Right now I have more than enough, and I'm sure that the numbers will dwindle for a while, until this house gets done. There's just never enough money at the end of the day for what I see in this house. My stimulus should help, but it never seems to stimulate enough.

As I said earlier, winter has come full blast in the buckeye state, and it's only just begun, I'm sure. February and March typically have a good swing of weather here, starting with snow storms and ending with tornadoes and flooding. Oh what fun. I never look forward to driving in snow, but rain and mud don't bother me much. Tornadoes, on the other hand, bother me immensely, excepting the fact that I love thunderstorms. I absolutely adore falling asleep in a good hard rain--to the point where I wish I had a tin roof sometimes, just to amplify that sound.
Speaking of falling asleep, that's where this blog came from. I was sitting here, watching the snowplows move our foot of snow, and couldn't quite sleep--so I started writing. It's catching up with me now, so I shall bid y'all a hearty adieu, until the next time.