I remember like it was yesterday when my grandfather took me to the local gun shop at the age of ten to look for a youth model 20-gauge shotgun. My godfather had given me a single shot .410 bore a few years prior with which I’d learned both safe firearm handling and the basics of wingshooting but it was time to take the next step.

Knowing how to properly use one takes patience, thoughtful practice, and a fair amount of guidance. There is an art to using this technology to supplement your dog’s training. When e-collars first hit the market in the late sixties, they were essentially cattle prods with fry only settings giving them a well-deserved reputation of being inhumane. As the technology improved over time, e-collars have become a fantastic supplemental tool in our training repertoire with their many supportive features. The functionality of e-collars today makes them incredibly versatile, with stimulation levels even less averse than leashes, whistles, or verbal commands. 

Most upland bird hunters know the Hungarian or Gray Partridge was successfully imported and thrived in several Western states, such as Wyoming, Montana, Oregon, Washington, the Dakotas, and a few others. States such as Nebraska, Wisconsin, and Iowa are lesser known locations where "Huns" were also introduced and still provide an opportunity to hunt.

It seems the only thing we American sportsmen and sportswomen love more than a good starter kit is a vest. The ubiquitous fly-fishing vest, tactical vest, camera gear vest, turkey vest, shooting vest, falconry vest, technician’s vest, and of course the upland bird hunting vest. This last one clutch piece of gear is as much a statement piece as it is functional.

On a fine spring day I tackled a task that had been nagging at me for months — treating my leather hunting boots. It never fails that I put away a pair of boots in February and they get neglected until September, when I pull them out and realize I've done wrong. Not a glamorous job, but it's necessary.

Lazy days spent in the uplands inevitably bring a closer connection with nature. Especially when your sport is seeking that game little bird, the woodcock. For the woodcock reassures us that the brooks are still dancing merrily through the woods and are on their way to sweet-scented meadows. So it is, the woodcock brings joy to the lovers of forest, cover, and stream.

In this day-and-age the single-shot or single-barrel shotgun is quite possibly the rarest gun carried in the upland fields. To see one carried by any bird hunter would be astonishing. In fact, so infrequently seen the single-shot is almost mythical. In my experiences I have seen . . . one! The last time I encountered a single-shot shotgun was during a hunt with a good friend and his son. Our group was hunting pheasant and bobwhite quail on Kansas public lands in the mid-2000s. My friend’s son carried the small toy-like shotgun proudly as if it were a Holland-and-Holland 12-bore side-by-side. 

Hunters have been waiting all summer for September 1st to finally show up on the calendar. Opening day of dove season is one of the most anticipated days of the year for many bird hunters, for it’s the first hunting opportunity of the upcoming fall. Dove hunters have been scouting designated dove fields on public lands, shotgun shells of ALL gauges have been cleared from the shelves–12, 16, 20, 28, and yes even the .410–camo is the color of choice, and comfy chairs have all been set neatly by the door for an early morning start to get to “the spot”.

Endless wilderness in every direction. I had taken the only road that went into this area and parked where it ended along the banks of a winding river. From here the only navigable path was the river itself, its gravel bars littered with the end of a salmon migration and signs of the bears that come with it. My Labrador and I were here in search of ruffed and spruce grouse, but in Alaska there’s always more than one layer to the adventure.

My eyes squinted into the late morning sun on the first day of May as I struggled to steady my hand and scratch my name across a filled turkey tag with a ballpoint pen. I had hunted and taken spring turkeys for years, but none like this, none with the promise of the fellowship of family, and pledge of tradition that this hunt brought. This turkey, this moment, wasn't particularly exceptional, or more fantastic than any of the other amazing hunts I have enjoyed, except for the shotgun that I carried into the woods this spring. Like a well-worn favorite hat or a broken-in pair of boots, my shotgun this season was familiar and reliable. My grandad’s Winchester 12-gauge shotgun with its fixed full choke and worn oil finish is a perfect example of pump action shotgun tradition. An American classic pump, this Winchester Model 12 is indeed that.