I spent a lot of time in the woods during my formative years. Each hunting season my dad and I, often accompanied by my uncle Andy, would spend long weekends with a rifle looking for one of California’s elusive bucks. Occasionally we brought home the venison, but more often than not returned with just good memories and a bunch of dirty clothes.
After I moved out of the house in 1970 to pursue my new career in law enforcement, my vacation time was still often spent with Pop and Uncle Andy in California’s mountainous regions. A gun trade for one of Ruger’s rugged Redhawk revolvers led Pop and I into putting our rifles away for a season (sort of) and trying our hand at hunting with big-bored scope-sighted pistols.
Discussion about this post