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The Conscience of Waterfowl Conservation

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The Third Shot Syndrome

Introduction 
Does an autoloading shotgun mean you must fire three rounds every time you shoulder your fowling piece? How can you resist the temptation to fire the third round in the mostly forlorn hope that it will bring down an escaping bird? By Howard N. Ellman. Posted Oct. 22, 2002.
By 
Howard N. Ellman

Pump action and auto-loading shotguns have been around for a long time. Lately though, it seems as though the great majority of waterfowl hunters go afield with one of the new autos, one of the three “B’s”, Browning. Benelli, Beretta done in marsh grass camo from buttplate to bore. (Remington and Winchester have new entries in this product line, but I rarely see them being used as of yet).

These are all fine shotguns. They function well in inclement weather, unlike some of the older Browning and Remington models that would jam in the cold or the wet. They are built to last through thirty or more thousand rounds of ammo without breaking a major part, are relatively easy to clean and generally inexpensive to repair. They cost more than a pump but generally less than a two barreled gun, falling within the price range of the average guy. Thus, they have much to commend them. The problem is in the way they are used and the mentality they seem to create in many users.

I’m sure you know where I’m going with this. Far, far too often, three guys in a blind means a volley of nine shots every time a duck or goose appears. Each shot pushes the birds higher, sending them fleeing into the next county. That obscene outburst usually issues forth from a nearby blind just when you have birds on the string, coming to your call. Nothing can so quickly and thoroughly destroy the ambiance of a hunt than to have an incident or two of that nature mar the experience, particularly as our opportunities dwindle and each chance takes on added value.

The trend toward autoloaders seems to this observer to have gone hand in hand with the push toward larger shotshells with heavier loads. Beretta, for example, has just come out with a 3½-inch chamber version of its popular 391 autoloader.

This trend was fueled, of course, by the non-toxic shot regulations that initially compelled us to use steel shot, kicking and screaming all the while. Hunters immediately noted the difference with steel – more misses, more cripples lost, a palpable reduction of killing range, all of these shortcomings compounded by the institutional whining over the perception that the science simply did not justify a federal edict banning lead.

In a futile attempt to compensate for the ballistic inferiority of steel, the manufacturers gave us higher velocity and heavier loads (the three and one-half inch 12 gauge being a good example). These loads and the guns that chamber them have been snapped up by hunters on the dubious expectation that more and faster shot will increase their kill rates when the ballistic shortcomings of steel lie in its lack of specific density, an immutable fact that also causes it to bleed off the extra velocity at a much faster rate than would be the case for shot composed of heavier material.

Okay, steel can kill, despite its shortcomings. Good hunters have learned to shoot it with relative effectiveness (although I confess that I dislike the stuff, consider it significantly inferior to bismuth and tungsten matrix and believe that our responsibility to reduce crippling militates against its use when we have better alternatives).

But that’s not my point. The mentality that pushes hunters toward the larger shotshell is the same mentality that makes them think that three shots is better than one or two, as though quantity were the issue rather than quality. But it should be self-evident that a three-shot barrage, from gargantuan shotshells, placed in an empty part of the sky cuts no more feathers than a single light load, similarly misdirected. Whereas a single light load, accurately placed, is all that anyone needs.

In Sand County Almanac, Aldo Leopold observes that the tradition of hunting in America emphasized the importance of marksmanship and economy. The pioneer could not afford to waste ammunition. Men who used muzzle loaders had to make one shot count because the birds were unlikely to wait around for the thirty seconds required for a reload. The advent of breech loading shotguns did not immediately alter the traditional emphasis on marksmanship, skill and economy. It took the attitudes of the second half of the twentieth century to do that. Just as we have lost much of our marsh craft that we no longer need to survive, we also have learned to waste ammunition—and we do. Indeed, we rush to acquire equipment seemingly designed primarily to facilitate profligacy in aid or an impatient and unschooled urge to take.

So what? Why should we care? I offer this: If we concentrate on single shot kills – on the skill needed to achieve that sort of performance, we must cultivate the concentration, calling art, marksmanship and economy that are the hallmarks of our traditions. We show our respect for the game by adhering to practices likely to reduce crippling loss.

A hunter who adopts the mentality that every shot should count takes the pains needed to make each one count. And if you don’t blow off all your ammo with reckless abandon, you may have a shot left to deal with that rare cripple on the water before it can escape into the tule patch while you fumble for more shells.

As I said at the outset, there’s nothing wrong with autoloaders, properly used. But if you own and use one, I suggest that you try this. Put in your pocket only two shells for each bird in a legal limit. Thus, five birds allowed, ten shells in reach. Do that and I guarantee that you will practice economy. Exercising care, your hits will be lethal. You will pass up those low percentage shots. You won’t pull the trigger for that prayer shot at startled birds hauling out of there. You will make much less noise, thus benefiting all within earshot.

If you can’t abide the notion of going afield so frugally armed, put your extra shells in a place where they will be awkward to retrieve. The goal is to make you conscious of the fact that you have used up the allotment of shells and are borrowing shots from the future.

Marshcraft, marksmanship and economy, respect for the game, the setting and the traditions of our sport. These are the goals. I believe that the hunt will become more rewarding as you progress toward their attainment. Those who revel in the profligacy attainable with modern autoloaders profane all of them. Noise cannot compensate for inaccuracy. When you plan to make every shot count, you will take better shots and need fewer shells. When that happens you are using your autoloader because it is a good, serviceable, relatively inexpensive firearm and not for its capacity to crack off three quick ones.