turkeestalker
New member
The 9th of this month was my life long friend and shooting buddy's 55th birthday. We met as young teens when his father was a deacon in a small country church that my father pastored here in Missouri. We pretty much grew up together, fishing, hunting, learning life's lessons.
We still get together a couple of times a month typically, to share a gun show, take our sons to the shooting range and so on.
He got on a kick a few years back of vintage 22 rifles and has accumulated a few, with a special fondness for ones with original factory or at least period correct peep sights on them.
One that he has spoken of often and searched for without success is a Mossberg 320B, the Boy Scout Rifle.
He loves to share stories of his expert marksmanship as a Boy Scout at camp when he lived near Chicago before we met.
I found one on GB and was the sole bidder, that from the photos was in very good condition and I purchased it for him for his birthday. It's condition proved to be even better than I had expected, hardly a handling mark on it, just a little thinning in the bluing as you'd expect, zero rust and perfect bore.
It even has the remnants of a sticker on the butt stock that reads Flossmoor JRC. Junior rifle club maybe? I don't know, but for him that was just icing on the cake.
If I had to describe his reaction, I would say that he was as giddy as a school girl about it, but then he'd probably knock a knot on my head and dare me to rub it for saying such a thing.
I will say that when we went shooting on Saturday the 10th, he was grinning like a crack shot kid at Boy Scout Camp and for me that was priceless, you just can't put a value on it.
So... what goes around comes around. That day at the range a stray dog showed up, ribs showing acting lost, bewildered, and very hungry. Some kind of Redbone mix, just a little short in the ears maybe. Collar with no tags, and none of the local or regulars at the range recognized it.
We had my youngest son with us so no way no how were we going to be able to leave the range without the dog, which had already stuck to him like glue.
Kid can bat those brown eyes and stick that lower lip out just like his mother used to... gets me to do all kinds of things I wouldn't usually even consider.
We headed to the local animal shelter once we got home and the dog is microchipped. Led to a rescue shelter in Georgia, which led to an adoption place in Florida. They've had no luck reaching the owners and are waiting now on response to a certified letter that they sent, but they aren't optimistic and their policy will not allow them to share any information with me directly. Looks like we may have a dog much to the cat's disgust, but I'm not banking on it just yet, just maybe hoping a bit.
He doesn't seem too terribly concerned about getting back to where ever he came from which is evident in this photo.
If someone is looking for him I'll do my level best to get him home to them, but a part of me is hoping that he gets to stay where he is now, with us.
This guy was born to squirrel hunt. He's on them like stink on you know what when I let him out and he trees them well, just doesn't sound off. I'm thinking it won't take much to train him as he's still young. The woman at the adoption place says just a year and a half old, and from what I can tell he's not been worked with at all, it's just innate behavior.
If I wind up with a good squirrel dog here, that will bring back memories from my youth that I hold very dear, almost priceless.
Paybacks maybe, never know.
We still get together a couple of times a month typically, to share a gun show, take our sons to the shooting range and so on.
He got on a kick a few years back of vintage 22 rifles and has accumulated a few, with a special fondness for ones with original factory or at least period correct peep sights on them.
One that he has spoken of often and searched for without success is a Mossberg 320B, the Boy Scout Rifle.
He loves to share stories of his expert marksmanship as a Boy Scout at camp when he lived near Chicago before we met.
I found one on GB and was the sole bidder, that from the photos was in very good condition and I purchased it for him for his birthday. It's condition proved to be even better than I had expected, hardly a handling mark on it, just a little thinning in the bluing as you'd expect, zero rust and perfect bore.
It even has the remnants of a sticker on the butt stock that reads Flossmoor JRC. Junior rifle club maybe? I don't know, but for him that was just icing on the cake.
If I had to describe his reaction, I would say that he was as giddy as a school girl about it, but then he'd probably knock a knot on my head and dare me to rub it for saying such a thing.
I will say that when we went shooting on Saturday the 10th, he was grinning like a crack shot kid at Boy Scout Camp and for me that was priceless, you just can't put a value on it.
So... what goes around comes around. That day at the range a stray dog showed up, ribs showing acting lost, bewildered, and very hungry. Some kind of Redbone mix, just a little short in the ears maybe. Collar with no tags, and none of the local or regulars at the range recognized it.
We had my youngest son with us so no way no how were we going to be able to leave the range without the dog, which had already stuck to him like glue.
Kid can bat those brown eyes and stick that lower lip out just like his mother used to... gets me to do all kinds of things I wouldn't usually even consider.
We headed to the local animal shelter once we got home and the dog is microchipped. Led to a rescue shelter in Georgia, which led to an adoption place in Florida. They've had no luck reaching the owners and are waiting now on response to a certified letter that they sent, but they aren't optimistic and their policy will not allow them to share any information with me directly. Looks like we may have a dog much to the cat's disgust, but I'm not banking on it just yet, just maybe hoping a bit.
He doesn't seem too terribly concerned about getting back to where ever he came from which is evident in this photo.
If someone is looking for him I'll do my level best to get him home to them, but a part of me is hoping that he gets to stay where he is now, with us.
This guy was born to squirrel hunt. He's on them like stink on you know what when I let him out and he trees them well, just doesn't sound off. I'm thinking it won't take much to train him as he's still young. The woman at the adoption place says just a year and a half old, and from what I can tell he's not been worked with at all, it's just innate behavior.
If I wind up with a good squirrel dog here, that will bring back memories from my youth that I hold very dear, almost priceless.
Paybacks maybe, never know.
