The .410
An Old Bird Hunter’s Two-Cents.
Toting a “stacked-barreled” 20 gauge, this young lad practices for the up-coming turkey season.
“Who’s up first?” requested the young game officer. The state game department was orchestrating a youth upland put-and-take hunting experience on facilities graciously donated by a private hunting preserve. An excited youngster stepped forward with his gun before him; muzzle appropriately pointing straight up. The gun was a rustic, bolt-action, beast in the diminuative .410 caliber. Perhaps, noticing my stare before I redirected my gaze toward the top of my boots - “It was my grandfather’s,” the boy’s father proudly proclaimed.
Okay, the kids were only allowed to chamber a single round once one of my setters had locked onto scent; leveling the field of play as compared to the more typical upland actions other kids were using. Much sooner than later, the opportunity to put the relic to use had arrived.
Dog and hidden bird each holding their position, the officer and child combined, with a little input from the father, to chamber the small 2 1/2 inch - #9 shot - skeet round. Next, came the working of the rather cumbersome, spring-loaded, safety apparatus at the back of the bolt. Again, father stepped-up to provide working instructions.
In the clay target sport of skeet, the .410 is the ultimate challenge.
During these last stages of preparation, the rooster pheasant had become characteristically impatient and, vocaling its displeasure, launched from the tall dry grass! Each turn was defined as a bird found and flushed; the ability to “shoot” at an escaping pheasant was not the determining factor. During the course of the day, for this young lad, the scene was replayed twice more; each ending without a shot fired. By the end of the event, a very frustrated youngster sat receiving consoling words from well-meaning parents.
Of course, since the youngster never had the opportunity to fire a shot, the choice of ammunition wasn’t the issue here. The problem wasn’t the caliber - .410 being a caliber, not a “gauge” like other shot spraying firearms. I believe there was an entire series of poor decisions in this instance that will eventually include the choice of ammunition.
The opportunity was there; Idaho’s Department of Fish & Game offered free use of youth model, pump-action, 20 gauges and ammunition to any child that needed one. As I mentioned, the bolt-action was not the huge disadvantage it would have been normally due to the general restriction of using a single chambered round. The issue, in this instance, was the firearm’s mechanism. Just a step-above loading from the muzzle, the gun’s confusing and combersome catch was too much for the child to operate without help. The presumed effort to quell the boy’s concern for a gun’s recoil added time-consuming steps that greatly reduced the youngster’s abiltiy to put the gun to use.
20 ga. vs .410 cal. -
Each loaded with #7 1/2 shot, the standard 20 ga. (2 3/4” - yellow), offers about 65 more pellets (30% increase) over the largest .410 shell (3” - red). Locating .410 ammunition appropriate for hunting is currently far more difficult.
“Four-ten ammunition was hard to find,” was the father’s lament as the hunt began. Certainly, availability and affordability are additional issues to be overcome. The appropriate round for pheasant would’nt include number 8 or 9 lead shot, no matter the gauge. Three-inch shells, stuffed with number six (lead) shot is hefty enough to drop a rooster if placed in the right hands. In the high-finance world of non-toxic shot there are bismuth and tungsten loads that can cost up to $10 each time the trigger is pulled! And, as the man said, due to the firearm’s current hyped-up popularity, that’s if you can find it!
However, even if a rooster was dizzied to the point of unconsciousness and the “fifty-two step” loading process completed, the tiny skeet round sent off toward a pheasant in flight has about the the same chance of successfully dropping the bird as the kid winning the state lottery. Allowing that making a clean kill wasn’t even the goal, (and it should always be), a 2-1/2” four-ten round, in the hands of a first-time shooter, barely has a chance of cutting a feather. A sling shot would have been more lethal!
The first scatter-gun for many minors, the four-ten’s only advantages are the gun’s slightly reduced weight and recoil. (Of course, the lighter the firearm, the greater the (felt) recoil.) Otherwise, like hitting a baseball with a broomstick, the .410 is substantially disadvantaged when it comes to flying targets. If your child is not the doggedly determined type, you are increasing the odds that they will be discouraged from the sport all together.
Older son, Makary, and Gordon setter, Roc, with a nice wild rooster, (above). Below, the same shotgun was used by his little sister, Jordan. I don’t necessarily advocate using a 12 gauge but, they used the cut-down Mossberg twelve-gauge - with lighter reloads - as soon as they could safely wield it!
“Where is this going,” you ask? Well, some of this is going to sound hypocritical. You see, I speak from a great deal of experience.
“Hypocritical,” because my first shotgun was a .410. Definately not because I had any concerns about recoil; though a lad of considerably small stature, I would have hunted with a cannon if someone were to purchase one for me. Nor was the gun a family hierloom handed down from ages past. No, I found the Stevens, single-shot, hammer gun in a shop I often visited. I really wanted a shotgun and the fifteen-dollar antique gun was all I could afford. Using 3-inch rounds with appropriately sized (#7 1/2) shot, I was determined to drop a grouse from flight. It took a season (or more) but I finally collected my first bird (ruffed grouse) on the wing, (see: “Genesis”).
My first shotgun was a .410.
Capable gunners that say the .410 is a worthy shotshell will add, “Because they enjoy the challenge.” Think: If it is a challenge to hit a target, why would you give one to an inexperienced shooter?!
Prior to that first experience, if not slain from the ground or branches of trees, tens of flushed grouse were completely missed. For me, it kept the fuse lit but the thrill of dropping that first grouse on the wing launched a lifetime devoted to upland game. “If a .410 could do that, then I can’t miss with a 12 gauge!” That was my thinking back then and, like many of my early conclusions, required later review. That, and a really-for-real pointing dog, became my next youthful quest.
Out of necessity, certainly not by choice, the old Stevens single-shot .410 occasionally saw service - when no other gun was available.
Long retired from service, that old shotgun now hangs above the fireplace. The desire to kill buckets of birds has been replaced by the thrill of watching the dogs search. Several twelve-gauge guns have come and gone, I may have settled on a few. More often than not, it’s the more sensible (for me) twenties that see regular duty. And, don’t get me wrong, I truly love my .410’s; a little Savage 555 (O/U) four-ten often joins my dog(s) and I in search of quail. I must confess, there’s a bit of reminiscing involved.
What of our young hunter?
In keeping with our outdoor heritage, grandson John, cleanly (and confidently) harvested a young tom (jake). He used the 20 ga. he had practiced with and, without originally knowing it, a 3 inch magnum round. In his own words, “I didn’t even feel it!”
Like many of life’s answers, there are several factors involved that must be taken into account. It is well known that the first stage of hunter development is the excitement of just shooting the gun. An appropriately designed four-ten will accomplish that while going lightly on the shooter.
If the goal is to get an aspiring young hunter moving towards a lifetime of upland adventure, consider holding off until a more appropriate firearm and ammunition can be applied. They will soon out-grow the spritely small four-ten. After seeing what a twenty-gauge can do on targets and turkeys, the grandkids politley say, “No thank you,” to my four-tens.
It seems that, when it comes to hunting upland birds, the little four-ten was never the “first-choice” for success.
