I’m not gentleman enough to tote a “gentleman’s” shotgun. During my first year of college, I showed up 30 minutes late to Thanksgiving dinner; my camo pants stained with goose blood and calls still around my neck. An estranged aunt told me, while washing my hands in the kitchen sink, that I was “uncouth.”

Now in my mid-40s, not much has changed. I am who I am and know what I like. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve shattered piles of clay targets with a fancy-to-do over/under and have handled several autoloaders with engraved receivers, slim barrels, and walnut stocks. I love their aesthetics, and several I’ve tried over the years have shot lights out, but as I pointed out, I know who I am and what I like.

I prefer an autoloader splattered with mud getting blanketed by snow while waiting on a locked-up group of mallards to finish in the dekes. I want a non-ported, factory extended choke with a gnurled, no-shine finish that provides dense, consistent patterns. And I want it all in a can’t-hurt-it slim synthetic stock and forearm with rubber overmolding that enhances fit and feel. I want a gas-driven system that performs no matter Mother Nature’s mood; a system that reduces recoil and cycles a variety of shells at uncanny speed. In short, I want a shotgun that bucks established norms and hunts as tough as I do.

Southeastern Colorado is no longer an upland mecca. When I was in high school, it was nothing to walk a few weed-ditch rows between grain fields and shoot a three-bird pheasant limit. I haven’t seen a pheasant within 20 miles of my hometown — the same hometown I’ve lived in my entire life — for 10 years.

For that reason, my shotgun hunting focus shifted to waterfowl. The Arkansas River, along with several reservoirs, provide excellent roosting sites for migrating ducks and geese, and there is no shortage of golden grainfields. My waterfowl go-to, that shotgun that hunts as hard as I do and has never failed me in the field, is Browning's Maxus II Camo, a shotgun engineered to go through hell and back and keep kicking spent hulls far and sending a spread of pellets through feathers and tissue. This autoloader is impressive in every way; from its Power Drive Gas System to its 50/50 POI to the Speed Load Plus, which allows the first shell loaded into the chamber to go directly into the magazine, the Maxus II was born for river bottoms, swamps, marshes, and wet, muddy grain fields.

Recently, word reached my ears of a record pheasant and bobwhite quail hatch three hours from my Colorado home. Don’t get me wrong, I love waterfowl, but given my choice, I will walk five miles for one hard-flushing rooster or fast-flying covey of quail.

I saw the looks instantly. I didn’t know three of the guys in the group; my invite had come from a friend of a friend. The three guys eyeballing me were decked out in upland duds, and all three carried a break-action shotgun — two over/under models and one side-by-side. They were gorgeous shotguns. None, however, was a Browning Citori. Hey, nobody’s perfect.

Though genuinely nice men, they weren’t impressed with my Browning AURIC camo-cloaked Maxus II. One of the men, while we were pushing a small triangle of weeds, asked me, “That's more of a waterfowl gun than an upland gun, isn’t it?” It was more of a statement than a question.

My response was, “It’s a great shotgun. It’s dirty tough, light as a feather, swings as smooth as a Louisville Slugger, and it just works for me.”

I promise you; I said it just like that. He smirked and let out a little chuckle. Seconds later, I heard the unmistakable flush; the weeds crackled and wingbeats rang in my ears. The “rooster” call came seconds later, and a barrage of shots followed. I was last in the line, and by the time the rooster made it to me, he was flying hard, a good 50 yards away. The Maxus II came up like it always does, smooth and fast. The Lightning Trigger broke, and the rooster’s head instantly tucked into his wings. He hit the ground with a resounding thud, and before I could blink, a well-trained pointer was toting the colorful bird back to its owner.

The dog’s owner told it to “give,” and then walked down the line, stood in front of me, and said, “Sir, I think this one belongs to you.” Like I said, these were good men; they just didn’t quite know what to think of me.

Again, some will read this and roll their eyes. Some will have been entertained and believe that telling a “story” was the primary purpose of this article. Those who know me know I don’t lie. I’m not arrogant, and I never talk about myself. So, understand, this isn’t a story about me; it’s the story about an awesome shotgun build that lets an average Joe shooter experience remarkable success.

By the day’s end, our crew had amassed four cock birds and 23 bobwhite quail. We walked 33,000 steps. No one complained. Everyone walked, laughed, and had a remarkable time.

I shot one rooster and my limit of eight bobwhite quail, four of them with an over/under. The man who walked next to me all day, the one who asked, “That's a waterfowl shotgun, right?” finished the day with one rooster and six quail. Three of his six quail and his rooster fell to my Maxus II. Yup, he was so intrigued with the shotgun’s performance and how quickly I was able to get on birds that he had to try it for himself.

There’s nothing wrong with walnut stocks, elegant engraving, and nickel plating. Browning makes Maxus II models with these features. For me, though, please give me a tougher-than-hell autoloader with a synthetic camo stock that shoulders and shoots like a dream, and I’m a happy hunter. You will be, too. If you’re in the market for a new autoloader that will handle everything from waterfowl to upland to turkey, the Maxus II Camo is where it’s at.