Heritage. Tradition. These are words that pop up a lot when we, as sportsmen, discuss hunting, shooting and fishing. Our fathers hunted, our grandfathers hunted and our great-grandfathers? Well, they probably did, but for most Canadians who don’t identify as First Nations, this is where our heritage starts to get confusing. After all, the heritage of our great-grandfathers, or at least, our great-great-grandfathers is usually set in another country. Therefore, for many of us, our hunting heritage in Canada extends back two, three or maybe four generations at most.
Of course, our First Nations brothers and sisters can snicker here, as their ancestors have been hunting this land for about 10,000 years, give or take a millennia. Heritage starts to take on a new meaning in this case.
But for myself, a mix of Welsh, Irish, French and what have you, and others like me — where does our hunting heritage lie? I found some answers to this recently, in Europe.
At times, we Canadians can forget how new our country is. A building, for example, that is 100 years old is usually either a heritage monument or a dilapidated safety hazard. A firearm too, in that regard, begins to take on revered collector status as once you reach the Great War era. But in the hunting world of Europe, things are looked at in a different light.
Take Beretta, for one. Well-known to Canadian hunters as makers of fine Italian shotguns, this company has a heritage as rich as any family tree. Founded in roughly 1490, Beretta has been owned by the same family for more than 500 years. Trophies from hunting and shooting heritage are preserved in immaculate condition in the family’s private gun collection — from the first matchlocks ever produced in Italy right up to modern arms.
Think — at about the time Christopher Columbus had crossed the Atlantic to find this New World, modern hunting was already becoming a huge part of the heritage of Europeans. Beretta’s first shipping order is dated 1526.
Beretta still hand-assembles every shotgun. Sibling Italian gun maker Perazzi still hand-engraves every shotgun with an artisan’s handwork. Men and women dress the part of aristocracy when they hunt — rather than garbing themselves with high-def camo, they wear clothes that look more suited to the country club than the backcountry. It’s hunting tradition and heritage that pre-dates the European exploration of Canada.
But there is much the Europeans have to envy about hunting in Canada: our open spaces, for one, along with our big game (most Italians hunt birds and boar). Add to that the fact Italians pay about €300 for a hunting licence (about $480 Canadian) should make Canadians respect what we sometimes take for granted. Still, even the high cost doesn’t stop about 800,000 people in Italy from buying a licence each year. (That’s 800,000 hunters in a plot of land about the size of Newfoundland and Labrador.) The concept of heading out on a 10-day Canada moose hunt is so foreign to Italians it boggles their minds — hunts are over and done within hours in that country. A quick drive, a quick shoot and home for dinner.
That is why we can look to Italy and Europe for a deep rooted hunting and shooting heritage, yet also look to ourselves as having much to be proud of too. A new heritage, one of a people with a variety of ancestors, and one where people enjoy wild open spaces and abundant game the likes of which exist no where else on Earth.
Perhaps the ultimate essence of the Canadian hunt is taking to an empty, expansive field with a hand-assembled Beretta shotgun, and looking out at a flock of thousands upon thousands of never-been-hunted ducks. That’s what I call “Old World meets New World.”

The Beretta Factory factory in Gardone Val Trompia, Italy.

Western Sportsman editor David Webb gets a feel for Beretta's new break-barrel semi-auto shotgun.