As a boy, I carried a Winchester Mod 62 much of the time (after the Daisy became a 'toy' to me). My Dad made me keep account of the ammo I used, even when just plinking.
In the areas we hunted and shot target, there seemed to be others who were not so disciplined in counting their rounds; it was normal for me to pick up and shoot many discarded 22 cartridges on an outing. My Pops knew that I did this, and made sure that I cleaned the rounds pretty good before loading them into the rifle.
Upon looking back, I find it strange that I can hardly remember a 22 I picked up that wouldn't fire. I found shells where the brass was dark brown and the bullet was white with corrosion, but they almost never mis-fired. I know that some of them had survived many seasons under snow or ice, and even shot some that I found in streams that had been under water for who knows how long.
Long live the 22 - and they usually do!
