Spirit GUN

An upland hunter's favorite gun is so much a part of the shooter that it becomes a pseudo-family member, a cherished possession that may become a family heirloom.

- Text and Photos By Tim Flanigan

Doc's toil-worn bird gun seemed a worn-out relic, but it seemingly surged strangely to life at one's touch.

This is particularly true of the "one-gun" man who shoots one gun exclusively and shoots it with exceptional skill. While others take pride in collecting and using a succession of fine doubles for grouse and woodcock gunning, the one-gun man remains faithful to a single, field-proven smoothbore. The value of that gun is not attributed to its fine pedigree but rather to its efficiency. It points instinctively and breaks clays and bags elusive gamebirds with virtually effortless finality.

A standard and generally inexpensive shotgun belonged to AI Geis, also known as "Doc," an avid woodcock hunter. A mutual friend had introduced us and asked me to guide Doc on a spring gobbler hunt near my home in south central Pennsylvania. That hunt marked the beginning of nearly four decades of shared upland hunting adventures. In the fall following the turkey hunt, Doc invited me to join him on a woodcock hunt over his little Brittany female, Nikki. I fell in love with her.

I first saw Doc's bird gun upon arriving at his home in response to an invitation to hunt woodcock on his property. It was leaning against a massive white oak sentinel guarding the entrance of a stately plantation-style house in Maryland.

The gun's decrepit appearance took me by surprise. A stained and tattered brown hunting vest of similar vintage and condition lay in a heap beside the gun's cracked and weathered stock. Before I could ring the doorbell, Doc's big voice boomed over a chorus of barking dogs. "Go ahead and gear up. I'll be right with you. Got a couple of chores." The gun looked like a worn-out, old relic destined for the trash bin, yet it seemed to beckon to be picked up and hefted.