Thursday, September 21, 2006

Another Devonshire True Story

Hi Marston
I received a visit from Richard yesterday. We had a great chat about some of the 50s & 60s Devonshire Road events. I had missed the story he had written about my pigeons. When I went back on the blog to read it today the tale reminded me of one other which took place around the same time.

As you probably remember I loved to go hunting for rabbits and grouse in the bush across Devonshire Road
in front of my Grandmothers house. I was encouraged to hunt and was given a single barrel 16 gauge shotgun at 12 years old. We needed the meat. My Grandmother , ( Charlie) thats another story, was always pleased to see me come home with a rabbit or better still a couple of grouse.

Well the story begins late one fall afternoon. I arrived home from school with Stevie in tow .On the way home we had decided to go hunting . Upstairs I went to retrieve the shotgun and a few shells. The old Bay State shotgun had the barrel sawed down to about 20" . This made it easier to hide while crossing Devonshire.
It broke down into three parts. Barrel went down the pant leg, forearm was put in the back pocket and the stock was carried up under my arm, hidden by my jacket.
Steve was the lookout man and would give me the all clear side when the road was void of coming cars, especially the one with the red light on the roof. This particular day I decided to hunt toward old Neds house. The city had cleared a road through the bush in order to put in the new sewer system and the crew had left piles of cleared brush at the edge of the tree line.
This made a great place to hunt for both rabbits and grouse. As we approached the spot with Stevie a little behind and of to my left he flushed a Grouse.

It flew up and curved to the right crossing in front of me right on the edge of the tree line. Up came the Bay State , one big bang and down went the grouse. Gun was quickly reloaded. At the very moment the bird went down a cars horn started sounding in front of us on the new road. As I started to walk toward the downed bird and also to see what was going on out in the cleared area Steve flushed another grouse. Well you guessed it , up came the gun and down went the grouse . Now the car horn was being leaned on non stop.

As I picked up the two birds, not a foot apart, I peered out of the brush to see two of St Lamberts finest sitting in their car not daring to venture out. I guess they we about fifty yards from us and had been rained on with number seven birdshot. I said the magic word to Steve. COPS! He was off in a spray of leaves and small assorted branches. I was close behind and we where soon through the bush across the field ( staying low ) in and out of the ditch in a wink and streaking over Devonshire barely touching the pavement, down the driveway around the back and into the shed.
Phew! I think the Police were still sitting in the same place. We must have sat for an hour until dark. I never did hear anything about our brush with the law but I must admit the Devonshire patrols increased for the next few weeks putting an early end to hunting season that year.

The next day after school my Grandmother invited Steve to stay for a very fine roast grouse diner with fresh vegetables from the garden. Boy did we eat like kings that great fall day.
Those were the days…
Thanks for the memories George V..

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