i
t’s a long drive from the rural suburbs of Chicago to the northwood’s
of Wisconsin or at least it seemed that
way to a young girl in her early teens.
Several years we made this family pilgrimage; Mom, Dad, my sister and i. We would
put the family dog in the kennel and leave
early morning long before the sunrise.
We were heading to Hayward, Wisconsin
for a week of fishing and family time in
the outdoors. this was not a “roughing
it” trip. However, my sister and i had to
share a bedroom. Just for the record, for
two girls, only 17 month, apart, it seemed
like a week in prison.
During our first trip, i learned my father
had firearms. i remember helping pack
the car the night before and Dad putting
in a case of clays. When i asked what
those were, he told me they were for
shooting shotguns and the lodge had a
range and thrower that we would be able
to use. i had no idea what he was talking
about, but i had” high hopes” it would
be fun.
after several days of Muskie fishing it was
time for an afternoon at the range. We
loaded up the shotgun took the ammo
and the clays down the tree lined road.
Once we got to our destination we found
an old manual thrower and bench. Dad
explained to my sister and i how everything worked and the basics of firearm
safety. the shotgun was a 12 ga Belgium
made Browning with what i affectionately referred to as a ‘dial a duck choke
system.” Since