Notes on Current Waterfowl Hunting Regulations in the US.

 

Waterfowlers pursue their sport under a thatch of regulations.  We’re accustomed to them and I doubt many hunters really ponder the why, how, and when of the hunting regs.  In the past, none of the rules were in place, and anyone could kill as many ducks, geese, and swans as he wanted any way he wanted.  Bird numbers declined, and the blame was put on the market hunters lugging in barrels of birds (blame no doubt deserved… though it is interesting that the decline in waterfowl coincided with the settlement, drainage and conversion to farmland of huge swaths of wetlands across North America, especially the Great Plains).  So, starting in 1900 with the Lacey Act, and continuing with the Weeks-McLean Act of 1913, the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, and the Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp Act of 1934, efforts were made to “save the ducks.”  Market hunting was big business in 1900,* and though the rules applied to sport hunters as well, the professionals were the real target of the early laws.  Over the next couple generations, Americans’ taste for wild duck and goose wanned, and now you’d be hard pressed to GIVE away a dead wild duck.  However, the anti-marketing rules are still in place and form the structure for waterfowling in the US. 

Season dates.

Spring hunting was banned in 1913.  And though it only seems reasonable to leave game birds alone as they’re sorting out their domestic situation (except for turkeys for some reason), I do wish they’d stop dinking around with splits and such.  The Feds allow the states to pick a certain number of days within a block from September 1^st to March 10^th.  Here in Michigan, the state divides itself into three zones so it can select dates that line up with waterfowl migration; that way we normal folks don’t have to fight with the UPers about the opener.  But does it really matter?  If the whole state used the North Zone’s opener and the South Zone’s closer, would the UPers kill more birds?  Well, only if they followed the migrating ducks to the southern part of the state… which they can do as it is anyway.  Even if the season were open in January, we wouldn’t be shooting any birds because the state is frozen.  I say simplify the dates and have a big window.  The birds will take care of the real season dates. 

Bag Limit.

We’ve all seen the black and white photos of turn-of-the-century hunters with piles—literally piles—of ducks.  I’ve even read of one market hunter who bagged 1,000 ducks in a single day!  And sport hunters would shoot till they got tired or ran out of shells (or schnapps).  This was fine for Daniel Boone, but with the population we have, limiting the number of birds each hunter can take in a day is only common sense.  It doesn’t take much for me to start going on about why is it that I can fill the bag with six hen Gadwalls (or Teals, or Wigeons, or Whistling Ducks), but I can only shoot two hen Mallards, which is the most common duck on the planet; or again, if the Red Head population is so low that I’m only allowed two in the bag, why do they allow both to be a hens? [See Appendix A for a longer tirade]  The details of the bag (who sets it, how they do so, what species it can include, etc.) make more or less sense to me, but the idea of a bag limit is a Good Thing. 

Lead shot. 

This one makes sense.  Most birds are killed by one to four pellet strikes (my own experience, albeit with steel shot), but a typical lead duck load has between 170 and 340 pellets (1-1/4 oz of #4 to 1-1/2 oz #6 lead).  Even if you put 20 pellets in a duck, that leaves at least 150 pellets broadcast into the marsh.  Old hunters hate to admit it, but lead shot keeps killing ducks long after the season ends. 

I wouldn’t oppose a modification of the lead ban.  Allowing field hunting, or over deep water for example.  Or even in low use areas—a duck hunter could go all season without shooting a shell in my county.  Then again, complex rules make for confusion, encroachment, and even more rules.  Maybe this is one place where California is doing it right…

The bag limit, a season, and banning lead shot (at least under certain circumstances) are the three rules that actually protect waterfowl populations.  While some of the others may have philosophical appeal, none of the rules listed below solve any problems if we observe the season dates and bag limits.

Possession Limit.

I have quibbles about the bag limit, but I completely fail to understand the possession limit.  I can only possess three times the daily bag limit at any given time.  Meaning, if I shoot a limit on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I am not allowed to shoot any ducks on Thursday.  I have to somehow divest myself of the dead bird; either eat it or give it away.**  Processing into sausage doesn’t count, since I still possess the meat in the casing.  This is stupid.  The only reason for this rule is to provide Game Wardens something to nail market hunters on.  Two weeks into the season, they catch a suspected (or even known) market hunter with eighty-four ducks on his front porch, but they didn’t see him shoot all eighty-four and thus can’t disprove his claim to have shot only six on each of the past fourteen days.  However, since he isn’t allowed to possess more than eighteen ducks, he’s in violation.  But again, we don’t have a market for duck meat anymore, so what’s the point now?  Why can’t I save all my birds from the whole season for a feast in the spring?  Or to make a huge batch of sausage?   This is stupid.

Shooting hours. 

Is it really hunting to shoot sleeping birds?  Well, of course it’s hunting: you have to find them in the dark (just like hunting for your slippers at night).  But is it sporting?  If “sporting” is defined as giving the game at least an even chance, then a strong argument could be made that it is, since it’s safe to assume the waterfowl roost in a place that makes it very hard for land-based predators to sneak up and nail them.   As stated, you have to find them in the dark, you have to be very quiet so as not to awaken them, your shooting will be in poor lighting conditions (even with a spotlight, which could just as easily disorient you), and you’ll only get one or two shots off before they flush and are back into the dark and gone.  Honestly, it sounds like a good way to drown.  Market hunters killed a lot of roosting birds at night, but only because they put the time and effort into learning the marsh, their boat, and the duck’s behavior—and because they were willing to take the risk. 

I don’t think most hunters would bag more birds if they could hunt at night.  However, the half-hour or so around when shooting starts is another matter.  That’s when it’s light enough for the birds to start moving around, but still dark enough to make concealment and decoying easy.  That’s the unsporting shot.      

Sale of dead birds.

This rule was clearly aimed at the market hunters.  To be honest, I don’t know that anyone pays it much mind since there isn’t a meaningful market for the meat or feathers any more.  About the only time you see waterfowl for sale is taxidermy at garage sales and antique stores.  Most hunters don’t know this is illegal—I doubt most game wardens know it either.  (However, you can sell “captive-reared migratory waterfowl” with a permit.  But I’m not sure how you legally get the parents or the eggs into captivity in the first place…)  At this point, it’s a meaningless rule. 

Baiting. 

Depending on what state I live in, I can bait deer, coyotes, bears—that’s sportsmanlike.  But not waterfowl, which would be unsportsmanlike.  Obviously.  I can hunt standing crops, harvested fields, grain spilled as part of normal agricultural practice.  I can even hunt over food plots planted by the state specifically to attract waterfowl to managed hunting areas.  But I can’t spread corn on the field to attract waterfowl, because it’s unsportsmanlike.  Now, I can spread the grain to attract waterfowl, provided I’m not hunting them.  In other words, I can feed them, I can kill them, but I can’t feed and kill them.  But I can plant corn and flood it so the ducks can feed—and then kill them.  Stupid. 

Live Decoys.

I can get behind a ban on tethering or wing clipping of wild birds.  That’s just mean.  But I don’t see why it’s okay to train a dog to toll, locate, and/or retrieve downed ducks, or a falcon to do all the hunting for you, but you can’t train a Rouen duck to swim around in front of your blind.    

Trapping waterfowl.

Trapping waterfowl has no appeal to me… just like trapping fur-bearers.  All of the work, but none of the pleasure; I’m not really sure how it’s different from farming.  Sounds un-fun.  But unsportsmanlike?  How is it any different from trapping crabs, racoons, beavers, etc.?  Would it be ok if we had to buy a special permit?

Hunting from a vehicle.

Thou shalt not hunt ducks from a boat unless the motor is turned off or the sails furled and it is no longer moving from being underway.  This includes dispatching a cripple.  This is another one that makes sense if you only pay attention to the spirit of the law.  Screaming into a raft of ducks in a ski boat with Van Halen blaring and half-drunk baristas from the local bikini coffee kiosk making that party girl sound while you unleash your cloud of Hevi Metal is clearly not sportsmanlike.  Unfortunately, the law casts a wide loop which encompasses not only the above described tool, but also the guy sneaking around the marsh in a canoe with a mud motor.  I would hope most wardens are guided by the spirit when enforcing this one. 

I can use a stationary water vehicle as a hunting platform, but unless I have a disability, I cannot hunt from a car or truck.  Why?  Assuming it isn’t on the road (which raises some obvious, and potentially hilarious, safety issues), what difference does it make if my blind is made of wood and chicken wire, or sheet metal and plastic?***  Besides, unless I am making a permeant installation, to get within range of ducks, I’d have to be real picky about where I set up my Kia-blind.  The chances of it being worthwhile are pretty slim (except for field hunting I guess).  Honestly, there is no reason not to amend the law to line up with boats.

And we should apply the same paradigm to aircraft if only for the sake of completion.  You should only be able to hunt from an aircraft if its motor is turned off and it has ceased forward motion from being underway. 

Sinkboxes. 

This one is just stupid.  I can hunt from a pit blind.  I can hunt from a floating blind.  But I can’t have a floating pit blind.  I can build a pit blind in a place where the water will come right up to the lip of the pit, so that it has the effect of a floating pit blind—but it can’t actually be a floating pit blind.  Stupid.  Fortunately, they haven’t outlawed waterfowling while swimming.

Shell limits.

As long as I don’t exceed the bag limit, does it really matter if I bag all six ducks in one flight?  Honestly, who cares except the hunter?  But what about the argument that more shots in the gun would equal more wounded birds as undisciplined hunters blasted away at fleeing flocks?  First, that wasn’t the intent of the law; it was written to make it harder for market hunters to make hunting pay, and also to provide law enforcement one more way to catch the illegal professional.  But be that as it may, anyone who has spent any meaningful amount of time in the blind can tell you the third shot is almost always a waste.  First shot, at 30 yards, miss.  Second shot (duck has wheeled) is at 40 yards, miss.  Third shot (duck has speed now) is at 55 yards, miss.  Fourth shot?  Come on…  Let the hunters use more shells and stimulate the economy. 

Gauge limits.

I am no scholar of the 8 gauge, but this is a summary of what all I’ve read; a lot of it is also summarized in Phil Bourjaily’s article, 

The Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 (or was it the Weeks-McLean Act of 1913?) banned the use of the 8 gauge shotgun for waterfowling.  This one is sort of a head-scratcher.  At the time, the 8 gauge wasn’t a particularly common gun—I read that only a few hundred were made in the US before the ban—and it certainly wasn’t the market hunters’ choice.  The professional was far better served by 12 gauge repeating shotguns which had started hitting the market in the 1880’s.****  At that time, the standard 8 gauge shell was 3-1/4” and held 2 to 2-1/2 oz of shot, and the lawmakers must have thought of it as a baby punt gun.  But the ban was rendered meaningless in 1932 when Western and Ithaca teamed up to introduce the 3-1/2” 10 gauge which could hold 2 to 2-1/4 oz of shot, just like the 8 gauge.  By the early 1980’s you could get a 3” 12 gauge with 2 oz of shot, and in 1988, the 3-1/2” 12 gauge with 2-1/4 oz.  In other words, the “baby punt gun” was really only effectively banned for 14 years… Where there’s a will, there’s a way. 

But as most hunters who’ve tried it will tell you, flock shooting is far more hopeful than it is successful.  Far more effective would be a Browning A5 or a Winchester 1897 with 5 or 6 shots—two guns not effected by the ban.  And of course, the same argument I made above about shell limits applies here.  If I don’t exceed the bag limit, what difference does it make if I shoot all my birds with one shell?

Electronic calls. 

This is a law I’m entirely in favor of.  Not because e-callers are unfair to the birds, but because it’s insulting to our humanity.  I see no place for electronics in hunting; I’d be in favor of extending it to include electric powered motion decoys.  Otherwise, why not go all the way: how about a computer-controlled firing system for you gun that uses a camera or radar***** to monitor target speed and range and fires when the proper lead has been established.  Perhaps we can rig it up with some sort of Poly-Choke type device that will adjust the choke in real time to provide the best pattern on target.  The great thing is the system won’t fire if the situation doesn’t provide a certain likelihood of success percentage, meaning fewer cripples.  You know, Respect the Ducks.

 

NOTES

* Big business: meaning, a way for poor folks to survive by working hard, scrabbling natural resources to sell to affluent city-dwellers, like crabbing, fishing, trapping, logging, mining, etc.  The main difference is that rich businessmen didn’t enjoy mining or join exclusive logging clubs.  Hunting has always been the sport of kings, after all, and though this is the America of Davy Crocket and his long rifle, Betsy, it’s also the America of Daddy Warbucks and his Mid-Atlantic Lockjaw.

** I can’t throw it away since this would be wanton waste of a game animal.  But what if it spoiled?  How freezer burnt does it have to be to count as spoiled?  That goose I shot last February that’s still in my freezer still counts toward my possession limit.  This leads to another tirade I have about wanton waste.  As long as I don’t exceed my bag limit, what does it matter to ANYONE ELSE what I do with MY dead birds?  A lot of hunters only take the breasts and don’t save the livers for pâté or the bones for broth.  Philistines.

*** I saw an article about some guys using an abandoned house as a goose blind.  What about a dead truck?  My Grandpa used to use dead cars as storage locations for feed and tools.  They were up to their axils in the soil and half covered in brambles etc. by the time I came along.  It would have taken an act of God to get them moving again--would these still count as vehicles? 

**** List of repeating shotguns available to market hunters:

Spencer, Model 1882 12 ga, 5 rounds
Bannerman Model 1890, 12 ga, 5 rounds
Winchester Model 1887/1901, 10 ga & 12 ga, 5 rounds
Winchester Model 1893, 12 ga, 5 rounds
Winchester Model 1897, 12 ga & 16 ga, 5 or 6 rounds
Browning Auto-5/Remington Model 11, 12 ga, 16 ga, & 20 ga, 4 rounds
Remington Model 10, 12 ga, 6 rounds
Winchester Model 1911 SL, 12 ga, 16 ga, 20 ga, 5 rounds
Winchester Model 1912, 12 ga, 16, ga, & 20 ga, 6 rounds

 

***** Though a camara would allow the computer to determine if it will fit in your bag.  In fact you could program preferred targets.  Haven’t you always wanted a limit of banded drake shovelers?

 

Appendix A

The case of the Dusky Canada Goose… There are something like five to seven million Canada and Cackling geese in North America made up of twelve (or eleven) subspecies.

    • Atlantic Canadá goose (Branta canadensis canadensis)
    • Dusky Canada goose (B. c. occidentalis)
    • Giant Canada goose (B.c. maxima)
    • Interior Canada goose (B. c. interior)
    • Lesser Canada goose (B. c. parvipes)
    • Moffitt’s Canada goose (B. c. moffitti)
    • Vancouver Canada goose (B. c. fulva)
    • Aleutian Cackling goose (B. h. leucopareia)
    • Bering Cackling goose (B. h. asiatica) probably just an Aleutian, but extinct since 1929 anyway.
    • Richardson’s Cackling goose (Branta hutchinsii hutchinsii)
    • Small Cackling goose (B. h. minima)
    • Taverner’s Cackling goose (B. h. taverneri)

Up until 2004, the cackling goose was considered a subspecies of the Canada, and even now, there’s a fair amount of overlap between large cacklers and small Canadas.  I myself, in 2012, was taught that the Aleutian and Taverner’s were Canadas by the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife (ODFW).  As a whole, the species are not in danger.  However, some of the subspecies are, most especially the Dusky.  Up till the early 1960’s, the dusky lead an idyllic life frolicking between its summer range in the Copper River delta of Alaska and its winter range in the Willamette Valley of Oregon.  But in 1964, an earthquake shifted the land that makes up the Copper River delta up by as much as four feet.  This change in landscape was followed by a change in plant life which provided more cover for predators.  Suddenly, the Duskies’ nesting ground went from being a Garden of Eden to a deathcamp, and the population has been declining dramatically over the last sixty years.  The Smart People have tried creating new nesting grounds like artificial islands, requiring hunters pass a goose ID test, check stations, smaller bag limits, season quotas, etc.  But… the population is still dropping.  Turns out the Duskies are just too stupid to fornicate somewhere else.  They’ve had to close the Dusky season all together, so now it’s like shooting a swan.  All this while the overall population of Canada and cackling geese has been increasing—the Willamette is crammed with geese right now. 

Now, the funny part of this story is we were told by ODFW to avoid shooting any darkish, medium sized geese because a game warden at the check station might identify as a dusky what a biologist would identify as a darker lesser (and vice versa).  In other words, the characteristics that make this subspecies unique (plumage, size, culmen length) are, in fact, found in other subspecies.  Remember the bit about overlap between the subspecies?  If the Dusky does go extinct, what sort of impact will it really have on the world?  We’ll have just as many geese, and we’ll even have some that are medium sized with dark plumage; the same traits that mark the Dusky could be selected back into the fore of the gene pool.  Heck, another earthquake might lower the Copper River delta and allow for a successful nesting site again.  An asteroid might hit North America and kill all the Canada geese—and the cacklers too. 

So does it really matter?  Or is it all sound and fury signifying nothing (but providing an income to a raft of biologists and game wardens)?

Do Slower Loads Pattern Better than Faster Loads?

 

As it turns out, way did indeed lead on to way.  And when presented with ideal dinking-around-with-shotshell conditions this past weekend (wife out of the house, kids occupied, sunny and calm, no money to do anything else with), rather than pushing on with my investigation about how larger shot patterns tighter then smaller, I moved on to something else.  Besides, Hunter Joe pretty much settled the question in my mind with his numbers. 

So next up on the Received Wisdom Soul Train is what impact velocity has on steel shot patterns.  As I’m sure you’re aware, We All Know that faster steel shot spreads out more then slower.  And as I’m sure you’re also aware, I’ve never seen this demonstrated.  Now, after my last experience with the large vs small shot experiment and my own petard, I am going to assume that someone else has probably already tested this—and probably done a better job of it—and I will merely be the recreating that moment in 1998 where I told my older brother that Kurt Cobain had died. 

My first dilemma was how to design a load that could be manipulated over a wide FPS range and used a powder I have on hand other than Alliant Steel.  But that would require a lot more preliminary testing to get a handle on a non-Steel powder, and just thinking about it was making me lose interest.  So I bit the bullet (shot charge?) and decided on Lightning Steel (2nd Ed.) load #6 as written and loaded down by 4 and 8 grains.   

12 ga 2.75” Nobel Sport (Cheddite)
CX2000
38 g. Alliant Steel
CSD100
1 oz steel shot

1645 fps @ 11,020 psi
               A: 30 g
               B: 34 g
               C: 38 g 

This is a super easy load to construct, and didn’t require any fillers as the cushion on the wad self-adjusts for the different shot sizes.  I did have to put a bit of wad pressure on the 38 g load though.

For chronographing, I usually use Hevi Floor, viz. mixed-sized steel shot I’ve spilled and periodically collect with a magnet.  But this time, I used the steel #5’s.  I was given a partial bag years ago and have never figured out what to do with them.  I know some guys like them, but I imagine they have all the advantagesof #4’s, only more so.   Velocity measured at 9' 9" (it's just what I do). 

A: (30 g) = 1242 fps
               1271
               1181
               1254
               1238
               1266
 
B: (34 g) = 1425 fps
               1419
               1435    
               1424
               1433    
               1413
 
C: (38 g) = 1604 fps
               1590
               1595
               1622    
               1609
               I forgot to write down the last shot (mostly because I was so excited not to have shot my chrony again), but it was inline with the other four.

 A nice even ladder without any whacky outliers.  Looking at the 30 g loads spread compared to the other two, I wonder what its PSI is.  Not that 90 FPS is all over the place, but the other two loads are so much tighter.  The 38 g load is at max pressure, and 8 g of powder is twice the normal 10% reduction for a starting load.  Anyway, before the way leads on too far….

 For patterning, I used steel #2’s to make counting holes easier.  Also, unlike the 1.25 oz of #F’s, this might be a load I’d use if it works out.  Unfortunately, I ran out of paper after only two patterns of each load.  But hey, two is better then none, right?

Remington 870 Express /28" barrel 
Hasting’s Extended Steel Full (.706")
At 40 yards. 

A: (30 g) = 75.2%
                74.4%    
                76.0%

B: (34 g) = 85.6%
               88.0%
               83.2%

C: (38 g) = 70.4%
               74.4%
               66.4%
 

Is that enough to draw conclusions?  Well, this is America, and it is my birthright to draw conclusions based on scant evidence.  So, yes. 

If I'd just stuck with Load A and Load C, we'd be golden.  Which just goes to show once again, that thoroughness is the enemy of certainty.  But based on what I have here, it appears that velocity doesn’t necessarily impact patterns in a predictable way.  If I had shot five patterns per load, it MIGHT have turned out that the load A and B averages would switch places, but I bet (but not a whole lot what with the petard and all that) that we’d only see a marginal shift in the averages.

Let's pretend.

	Load A	Load B
Real pattern	74.4%	88.0%
Real pattern	76.0%	83.2%
Pretend	85%	70%
Pretend	85%	70%
Pretend	85%	70%
Average	81.1%	76.2%

So load A has to have a significant jump AND Load B has to have a significant decline in order to switch the averages in a compelling way.  Is that likely?   If just one of those pretend Load B's prints an 85% pattern, just like the real ones did, the average goes up to 79%.  

That's just numbers of course, which are good for what they're good for.  Here are some photos.   

Load A

93/125 = 74.4%

Load C

93/125 = 74.4%

Though both have the same number of hits in the circle, the slower load is more center dense, meaning, it has room to spread out without degrading, whereas the faster load is about maxed out.  Taken with the fact that these two patterns are the lower of the slow load and the higher of the fast load, it would lean you toward the slower load patterning better.

But then, here comes Load B messing up any trends. 

Load B

110/125 = 88.0%

So, yeah...

My Experience with #4 Steel

 

When choosing ammunition, duck hunters appear to fall into various camps as they prioritize one shotshell characteristic over another.  For some, speed kills; for others, ounces of shot is the determining factor.  The two will argue round and round, while a third hunter shakes his head knowing shot size is of paramount importance.  But like the various sects of Christianity, though they may seem quite different—may even start a major European war—in the end, they’re all trying to achieve the same thing.  In the waterfowlers case, that end is the perfect shotshell; that is, one that blends the variables of pattern density, penetration, recoil, and cost just so to achieve maximum effectiveness under various hunting conditions.  Like many other truth seekers, I have shifted from camp to camp on my waterfowling spirit journey, trying out light and fast, heavy and slow, and things in between.  I feel I’m a lot closer to the goal now and have learned a lot about shotshells and myself along the way. 

Some of the lessons have come quickly, others have required more knocks on the head.  The hardest learned of these is that #4 steel sucks.  Unless your goal is to cripple birds and frustrate yourself, it is worthless.  I know other duck hunters will bitterly deny this fact, but like a good Catholic on the field of Lützen, I’ll grip my matchlock and face the oncoming Lutheran horde. 

My first volley is the numbers.  The great advantage of #4 shot is its high pellet count per ounce (~190), however, that’s only possible due to its small size (.13” and ~2.3 grains).  This diminutive stature is also the cause of its great disadvantage, viz. its substandard penetration on ducks past about 30 yards (at 1500 fps muzzle velocity).  Even at 1700 fps, you only get to about 35 yards.  Sure, you may get a lucky hit in the eyeball beyond that range, but not consistently.

All well and good, but field experience is king, and it often gives the lie to predictions.  Well, I have tried to make #4’s work over and over--never with YouTube-able results. 

My first go around was a box of Remington Hypersonic 3” 12 gauge 1.25 oz at 1700 fps.  Seasoned shooters will start chuckling at this point... which will give way to outright laughter when I say the only gun I owned at that point was an 870.  The guy I was hunting with laughed too when he saw my right middle finger after a few rounds and suggested (unhelpfully) I learn how to hold my gun.  The first shot I took knocked me on my butt (not literally--the literal hip-booted butt in the water had happened earlier that morning as we set decoys).  A flight of wigeon came in perfectly, I fired and the gun cycled and jammed itself, slammed the trigger guard into my finger, and left me a little confused about what was going on.  Oh, and I missed.  I tried a few more, but the recoil and cold, wet fundament ended my hunt early.  I should have just shelved the rest of the box, but being cheap, I used them in ones and twos over the course of the season mixed in with “normal” loads of #3’s.  I did end up bagging some birds with them; all were cripples except a mallard hen that flushed at maybe 15 yards as I walk the edge of a farm pond.  The impact broke her back.  The last shell took down a fast, passing drake mallard at a solid 40 yards—it was a surprisingly good shot—but didn’t kill him.  He had a lot of life left, and would have been long gone, but the pond was frozen just enough to tear the hell out of your shins, and his impact hole trapped him. 

The next year I chased the siren call all handloaders fall for at least once: duplexing steel shot.  Most seem to cross sizes two places apart (viz. #2x#4, #1x#3, etc.), but I, being clever, used sizes FOUR places apart, one ounce of #B under a quarter ounce of #4!  I thought it’d be awesome… but it wasn’t.  That same season, I tried one of the Lightning Steel loads (#19, I think) and an extended IM choke.  The patterns were impressive, the field results not so much.  I had half full boxes of both loads for years till I lost them in a move.

I tried #4’s in the 16 gauge for a bit.  Generally, the hunt would start with me letting loose with between three and seven shells before frustration drove me to switched to the handful of Hevi Shot #6’s I was hording, at which point I would cleanly kill a passing duck (it never was a decoying one for whatever reason).  One time, I shot a hen shoveler over a flooded field with #4’s.  She landed in a shallow spot—3 inches maybe—off to my right.  Thinking her dead, I ambled over with my gun at the trail and bent down to pick her up.  She flushed just as I was about to grab her, and my luchador reflexes snapped the gun to my shoulder and fired off a shell before I had time to think.  Which was a bummer, because if I had been thinking, I’d have let her get a bit further out before shooting.  As it was, my baseball sized pattern blew her ass off.  Literally.  As I picked her up by the neck, her entrails sort of oozed out past her remaining leg and a few token tail feathers hanging at odd angles.  This was on a fairly heavily managed bit of public land, and I didn’t want to risk a fine for just leaving her there (my first impulse).  Fortunately, I had a plastic shopping bag for picking up trash, so I was able to fulfill the letter of the law and throw her away at home.  I will say, it made for an easy evisceration.  Also, that was also some more damn fine shooting!

After that, I moved on to shot sizes that actually work and had great success (for me anyway) with #3’s, #2’s, and #1’s for several seasons.  And there it should have ended.  But just like a former smoker starts jonesing when he gets a whiff outside a bar, I’d see a spent #4 hull floating around and start second guessing my experience.  Maybe the problem was ME… bad shot choices, poor gun mount, laughable range estimation… And as a dog returns to his vomit, so a fool returns to his #4’s. 

This time, I’d do it right.  Meaning, I’d pick one load and stick with it throughout the entire season, then I’d have enough data to make a more studied decision.  I loaded up a couple boxes of my standard 12 gauge load, patterned it, and went hunting.  First hunt, I sailed a mallard while making breakfast burritos.*  And he really sailed—easily a half mile.  Unfortunately, that was the opportunity of the day.  Second hunt, crippled a wigeon.  Third hunt, after yet another cripple, I switched to #1’s and crushed two ducks and a Steller’s jay.

One case of backsliding is enough for me.  Now I can say with John Henry Newman, “Firmly I believe and truly” that the only responsible use for #4 steel shot is chronographing new loads. 

* I was making the burritos, not the duck; he was just flying around.

Does Larger Steel Shot Pattern Tighter than Smaller Shot?

 

We Americans have two driving psychological needs: to be seen as belonging to a group, and to be seen as individualists.  Our great hero is the Cowboy--the lone man not bound by society and it's pettiness, but governed by his own sense or right and wrong, who does justice as he sees it and rides off alone into the sunset.  And yet we wear t-shirts of the biggest sports teams or rock bands to signal our membership in the fan club.  The most comical combination of these impulses is the  punk rock enthusiast meticulously mimicking all the other non-conformists.  

One of the best ways to prove one's individualism within a group is to point out how everyone else in the group is actually wrong about some sub-point of the marginalia.  And so...

 Yet another oft cited piece of Received Wisdom is that larger shot patterns tighter then smaller shot through the same choke.  I've never gotten a straight answer on why this would be the case--perhaps the effects of wind resistance vs mass of the pellet?  And of course, no one ever backs up this rule of thumb with pictures or numbers.  Well, the remedy for this is obvious: make more holes in paper.

12 ga 2.75” Nobel Sport
Cheddite CX2000
30 g Longshot
PT1265 + felts as needed
1 oz steel shot + plastic beads as needed
    A.       #BBB
    B.       #1
    C.      #4
    D.      #6

(By the way, this load is based on one I found in BPI’s Advantages V manual, but using the larger version of the VP/PT wad (to insure fit with the larger shot).  The Nobel Sport hull may not be a proper Cheddite for all I know, but it’s so close I wouldn’t want to live on the difference.  All that said, my use of this load is not a recommendation of it.)

Patterned through a Remington 870 Express with a Rem flush IC at 40 yards

Now this is the average of only three patterns, and therefore not the sturdiest data.  But as always, any data is better then, “everybody knows….” 

A:  76.1%
44/60 = 73.3%
46/60 = 76.7%
47/60 = 78.3%
 
B:  67.6%
60/103 = 58.3%
68/103 = 66.0%
81/103 = 78.6%
 
C:  52.3%
92/192 = 47.9%
99/192 = 51.7%
110/192 = 57.3%
 
C:  58.0%
172/315 = 54.6%
182/315 = 57.8%
194/315 = 61.6%

And some representative patterns:

#BBB 

46/60 = 76.7%

#1

68/103 = 66.0%

#4

99/192 = 51.7%

#6

182/315 = 57.8%

Dare I say, hoisted with my own petard?  

I was hoping, as usual, for more compelling results.  But this is shotgunning, the land of slippery slopes and murky edges, so I’m disappointed, but not shocked when I see the results are mixed.  The #BBB’s did indeed print a higher percentage than the #1’s, which performed better than the #4’s.  But then it breaks down a bit.  If I hadn’t loaded the #6’s, it would have been a nice tidy pattern percentage ladder.  But alas, I was just not quite cut-corner enough.  So as it is, the answer is, again, maybe. 

That one hiccup in the stairsteps really messes everything up.  If the #6’s had given me an average in the 40's, I could enjoy the warm feeling of reaffirming the Group's mantra ("Hey, he's thinking what we're all saying!").  Or, if all four loads had printed all over the place, I could stop right there, defenestrate this Rule of Thumb, and enjoy the warm feeling of being smarter than everyone else.  But unfortunately, I get no warm feelings.  Instead, I'm forced to confront the obvious questions: If I tried the sizes I skipped, would I find it’s just the #6’s being weird in my gun, or would the whole Rule of Thumb fall apart?  Or, if I expanded the shot strings from three to ten, would the #6’s average fall into place behind the #4's?  I also wonder what would happen with the #1's, which have the widest spread between the high and low of all the shot sizes; is that one pattern a fluke, or would they prove to be wilder in that load then the other sizes?

I will mention, if we look at the chart for Loads A, B, and C in my BSLOC Rule test, we see that indeed, for the most part, the larger shot prints a higher percentage than the smaller.  Now, those are all different wads, shot and powder charges, so it’s not the most useful data, but it is supportive (in a glad-handing, rather than helping-hand sort of way). 

This one would bear/bare with some further testing.   But knowing how way leads on to way... I'll probably get interested in something else first.  

 UPDATE:

And just to enhance the whole petard-ary, after I posted this, Joe Hunter shared his numbers... which are far more thorough, and therefor, convincing.  At least it's nice to know I'm not swimming counter to the tide of data.  Shoulders of giants and all that.