HAMLET – After graduating from blue jays and squirrels, I started looking at the Sears catalog dreaming of a shotgun. I had exceeded the capabilities of the Daisy BB gun and the Savage .22 and now I needed a shotgun. I was hoping old Santa would bring me one of those Mossburg bolt actions that were on a Ted Williams checklist I had been staring at in the catalog, but Santa knew an H&R .410 single shot was what I really needed.
So armed with my new .410, my dad took me on a training trip to a nearby field. This was my first lesson on shooting quail, except it was with field larks. This particular weed field held a considerable amount of field larks. “OK, when the bird gets up, take your time, pull the hammer back, aim and fire,” said my dad. After the first couple of misses – bang! And feathers! I had officially become a future quail shot.
Getting older and moving into junior high school, sports came into play. It was baseball, basketball and a brief flirtation with football. Most of us kids had dreams of playing for Dean Smith and the New York Yankees. Hunting was a weekend sport. On top of all that, at 16 a new world opened for me – girls had to be juggled into the equation. And things were about to change.
About this time, my dad interrupted my life style by informing me that I needed a part-time job at the Hamlet Gin and Supply. He had recently sold his business, The Red and White grocery store in Hamlet, and didn’t like retirement so he went to work with the Hamlet Gin. The Gin sold pretty much anything anyone could want or need – groceries, work boots, work clothes, feed and seed, fertilizer, wholesale cigarettes, hay, salt mullet in a wooden bucket, molasses in a barrel, hoop cheese, shotgun shells, plow points and on and on.
My dad thought a job at the Gin would be perfect for me. Sadly, the life to which I had become accustomed was coming to an end. Tromping through the fields and swamps at my leisure was put to a halt. I will admit that I resented my dad’s effort to teach a boy that a work ethic was more important than learning to live off the land free and unencumbered. After all, I did occasionally bring meat to the table!
Although some of my compatriots continued to live “the life of Riley,” I am thankful that I was enslaved to earn a modest living for a 16 year-old. I learned some life lessons that enabled me to be moderately successful in adulthood so that I might get down to my future passion – quail hunting. It was there, working in the public, that I would see the veteran bird hunters come through. I always knew I wanted to be one of those guys.
Editor’s note: This article was contributed by Joe Liles as the third installment of a continuing series.
