CHAPTER 9
“Stage one is you pop the old spent primer,” says Judd. He and Braedon are down in the basement workshop, where Judd has a dedicated station for reloading shotgun shells. He demonstrates as he goes, running an empty shotgun shell through the reloader. “Next stage, you put in a new primer.”
“A primer is the thing that makes the spark that lights the gunpowder?” says Braedon.
“That’s right.”
“And you can use the plastic shotgun shells over and over again? Like forever?”
“Maybe not forever,” says Judd. “But you can use them quite a few times. That’s good since they’re plastic, and no sense throwing away plastic that can be reused. What’s that smirk on your face?”
Braedon blushes. “I never would have guessed you’re a tree hugger, Grandpa.”
“Watch your tongue,” says Judd, again with a smile in his eyes. “I ever hear you call me that foul name again, and you and I are done. Got that?”
“Yes, sir,” says Braedon with a big grin. “What’s the next stage?”
“The next stage,” says Judd, “you slide over to your middle station, and that’s where you dump your powder.” Judd points to an inverted bottle on top of the reloading machine filled with gray-black powder.
“Is that the same kind of gun powder Bugs Bunny uses?” says Braedon. “Like when he cuts a hole in a barrel and carries it so the gunpowder falls out in a line on the ground? And then he lights it and the flame follows the line and blows up something?”
“Same stuff,” says Judd. “Only let’s not try that in real life. Let’s leave that kind of fun to Bugs.”
Braedon nods.
“Next stage is your shot.” Judd points to another inverted bottle atop the reloader, this one filled with tiny BBs. He pulls a lever and some fall into the shell. “Then you put your wad in. And then you finish it off with an eight-point crimp.” He finishes his demonstration, then hands the reloaded shell to Braedon.
“Whoa,” says Braedon. “It’s heavy.”
“Because it’s full of metal shot.”
“Is the shot made out of lead?”
“Steel,” says Judd. “Used to be lead. But…” Judd laughs.“You’re trying to bait me into tree-hugger talk again, aren’t you, boy?”
Braedon laughs. “Maybe.”
Judd shakes his finger at Braedon and says, “I warned you.” Then he tousles the boy’s black hair and says, “Now you try.”
Braedon takes an empty shotgun shell and runs it through the first stages on the reloading machine, popping out the spent primer. “Grandpa?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we going to use these shells to hunt pheasant?”
“Pheasant. Or ducks. Or grouse.”
“I’d like to shoot a pheasant,” says Braedon, shifting over to the reloader’s second stage. He takes a new primer from the pack and levers it into the rim.
“Why a pheasant?”
“Dad uses the feathers to tie flies. He says pheasant is important on a lot of nymphs. The flies that sink underwater.”
“I remember,” says Judd. “Your dad always wanted pheasant tail feathers. He started tying when he was about your age.”
“Because Uncle Teddy taught him,” says Braedon.
“That’s right.”
