My most "interesting" recoil experience came on a dove hunting trip with my brother. There was a public hunting area in Western Kentucky with hundreds of acres planted for wildlife, including doves. These fields were separated by what we call sloughs, which were like ponds, about 50-60 yards wide, 100-150 yards long, and circled by willows. After a week or two of hunting season the doves learned they could fly up and down those sloughs to avoid the hunters. When we saw that happening, we'd sometimes take a small 10-12 foot jon boat out onto a slough, sit quietly and wait for one or more doves to come winging over the water.
So, we'd killed a few doves and were having a good day. One dove came barreling toward us and it was my turn to take the shot. I got on the bird, stood up into a half-crouch, and followed the bird as it approached to pass directly above us. Just before the bird got straight overhead I fired the 12 gauge. The next thing I knew, I was flying backward and over the side of the boat. I was much younger then and my brain was quicker. As I went over backward, my legs bent and hooked the side of the boat. I thrust the shotgun straight in front of me with both hands to keep it dry. My head and shoulders went under, but the gun stayed dry. It was only a few seconds until I felt my brother grab the gun and then grab one of my forearms. I wasn't worried about drowning, so I just stayed calm and let my bro wrestle me back into the boat. He told me after we got home that he'd given me some 12 gauge shells that he had reloaded and "maybe some of them were a little hot." Yeah, no kidding.