Shooting-Related, Autobiographical Snippets

Hunter

Hunter

Chasin' the Sunset
I’d like to see a revival in this forum and one way for that to happen might be for us to post some shooting-related, autobiographical snippets. Feel free to post as many as you’d like; I’ll start.

When I was about 19 years old, I bought a snub-nose, .22 RF revolver. One day, my then-squeeze (who later agreed to marry me) and I went to an out-of-the-way place to shoot that “li'l monster”; however, being young and clueless, wearing hearing protection never crossed my mind. When we were through shooting, I noticed a ringing/hurting sensation in my ears; my ears rang/hurt for several days. Within a year or so, I flunked an audiologist-administered hearing test; however, I don’t recall having a problem understanding people for a long time thereafter. Now, however, many years and hearing-protected gunshots later, I have a difficult time understanding a lot of people — some I understand OK, some not so much.

There’s a lesson there: Always wear hearing protection when you shoot. :)
 
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I wear hearing aids today from shooting skeet when I was 14 years old without hearing protection. I'm now 79. When I got older and was supposed to be wiser, not, I would go into the engine room of my boat with three diesel engines wound up. Even with hearing aids I have to be looking at someone and be close to them to understand what they are saying.
 
Sometime in my mid-20s, a friend invited me to go deer hunting (my first deer hunt) at his hunting club. I didn’t have a centerfire rifle so I borrowed my FIL’s old, sporterized, military-type, bolt-action rifle (had to pull a knob on the back of the bolt to cock it) with a peep sight, chambered in 7.62x54R. My friend was not impressed. On the way out of town, we stopped at a Kmart; for some reason we went to the sporting goods area, and he offered to buy a “better” rifle for me to use. I declined his offer.

The morning of the hunt, while I was in a tree stand several stray dogs came by yapping and yapping; they seemed to be attracted to something in/on the ground 30 or so yards from my stand. I decided to shoot in their general direction, hoping to scare them away. Later, back at the camp site, the guys wanted to know the details of my shot. When they realized I didn’t have a dead deer, they proceeded to cut my shirt tail for having “missed”; they also cut my friend’s shirt tail for not having explained the club rules to me.

There’s a lesson there: Know the rules, and be sure your companions know them also.
 
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Years ago I was working with the former VA Game Commission collecting deer for disease surveys. We were taking turns shooting them at night from the back (top of cab) of a pickup. In the cab was the driver, me on the passenger side with a Q-Beam, and the shooter above us shooting from the roof of the cab. Not thinking I put the light on a deer on my side with the window open and the shooter swung his rifle around and took a shot about a foot above my right ear with a 243. Forty some odd years later my right ear still rings. As far as I know no one in those days wore any type of hearing protection.
 
This thread has been up a week and only three guys have posted in response? Let's hear from others; in the meantime, I'll post another of my shooting-related snippets.

When my son was about ten years old, he seemed interested in shooting and hunting. I bought him a camo outfit and a .22 RF rifle, and we went squirrel hunting. Out in the woods we saw a squirrel within shooting distance. I don’t remember whether he shot at it (if he did, he missed); however, I did and the squirrel dropped to the ground. We went over to where the dead squirrel lay and knelt down to examine it; my son said, with a sad-looking face and a sad -sounding voice, “Dad, you killed it” — that sort of took the wind out of my sails. As far as I know, he didn’t go hunting again for many years, and that was a one-and-done deal.

There’s a lesson there: Different strokes for different folks.
 
These things take time. I'm sure I have a million + 3 stories, but it takes the right stimulus to bring them to mind.

I've been a "gun guy" since I was a toddler. I didn't even realize that as a young adult, until one of my family members asked "Why does Gene have a gun in every photo?". I'd never really noticed it myself, but it was true. As a young tike my grandfather had taped a piece of pipe into a gun stock (a *real* gun stock - that made it seem extra special) and that became one of my favorite toys. It's a prominent feature in many of my younger photos. My parents were extremely conservative about when I could own any kind of gun (my father had lost his older brother in a firearms accident) and by the time they finally allowed me to get a pellet rifle, I already had a surreptitious .22 rifle and pistol. Things were different then, and "cash and carry" was the name of the game, so no one at the gun shows or the hardware stores (where I bought ammo) ever questioned me. And we were better off for it. I could march through town with a .22 on my way to a friends house, and no schools were locked down, no SWAT teams called. I was simply a teenager taking his rifle somewhere to shoot.

GsT
 
When I was a young fella growing up in the 50's the best shows on TV were the westerns. Gunsmoke comes to mind as well as many others. In these shows the main rifle always was the Model 94 30/30. Well at that time my older cousin was a light house keeper on the east coast of Canada. On one of his time off trips back home he arrived with two Win Model 94's. I'll never forget when he showed them to me. I just couldn't believe I was looking at a real M94. He asked if I would like to hold one. When I got it in my hands my knees got weak. At long last I was holding the same rifle as Matt Dillon. Was a long time ago but it is still very vivid in my memory. JME
 
the above post jogged my memory about a story concerning a model 94 that belonged to my Dad. After he had passed my mother had a problem with dogs pooping in her front yard and asked me if I had a BB gun. My son had one around the house so I brought it to her and showed her how to use it. It wasn't very powerful and just might convince the offending K-9 to do his business someplace else. Well after she was well versed in cocking and shooting it I put it in Dad's gun cabinet and went home. I got a call from Mom the next day saying the BB gun didn't work. She said all it does is click when she cocks it and pulls the trigger. So, off to Mom's house I go only to find that she had mistaken Dad's model 94 for the BB gun. Thank the good Lord that it wasn't loaded. That dog wouldn't have pooped in her yard again, ever.
 
cootrp3 said:
I wear hearing aids today from shooting skeet when I was 14 years old without hearing protection.
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I have a friend who was the VA State Champion skeet shooter at one time. Also, I was at a skeet range once and saw a guy shooting skeet with his gun held at hip level, and he was hitting those little "birds" — at least that's how I remember it.

BTW, I saw that a child of yours is/was a world champion skeet shooter; congratulations to you and him/her. I'd like to hear more about that matter; please share.
 
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Years ago, I was shooting with some friends and one of them was shooting conspicuously poorly. All the usual excuses ensued and someone suggested letting me try the rifle. At a range of probably 75 yards, I took a kneeling position, exercised my best form and fired a shot. I centered that .30 as accurately in the .50 'X' zone as you could possibly do with the target in your hand and a hole punch.

Needless to say, those were four people I could never shoot with again...

GsT
 
Another one comes to mind... Years ago I bought my wife a Kimber Compact .45 for her to carry. I've always been annoyed that when a woman goes shopping for a pistol the folks behind the counter always spit out the tiny Ravens, and Jennings, POS pistols that *no one* can shoot well. In any case, I got her the .45 and a friend had bought a 9mm Glock around the same time (Glocks were still a novelty back then). We headed out into the Oregon woods for a shooting trip. On our way out, my friend (we'll call him "Dave" - because that was his name...) went on at length about how I'd done the wrong thing, and that "a .45 is too much gun for a woman". Upon arriving at our destination, we set up and began to shoot. I don't recall the distance - not long, but not point blank either. In any case, I gave my wife the two-minute spiel and set her loose with her new gun. She fired 4-5 shots and then looked at me and said "I can't see where I'm hitting...". I could, so I just told her to continue. She fired the remaining 2-3 rounds and had a nice, single, ~1" hole just a little lower than her aiming point. All shots touching.

Meanwhile, Dave had splattered his target with randomness in every which direction. He tried saying "sights are off" (which made no sense given the shotgun pattern he'd produced). I took the gun and drilled a couple into pretty much center. It was a long drive home for Dave. I'm sure he never wants to hear the words "A .45 is too much gun for a woman" ever again...

GsT
 
Hunter said:
I have a friend who was the VA State Champion skeet shooter at one time. Also, I was at a skeet range once and saw a guy shooting skeet with his gun held at hip level, and he was hitting those little "birds" — at least that's how I remember it.

BTW, I saw that a child of yours is/was a world champion skeet shooter; congratulations to you and him/her. I'd like to hear more about that matter; please share.
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Hunter, thanks for asking. I started my son off early shooting clay birds. His first shotgun was a Remington 870 that he used to bring to the range to shoot trap and skeet. I payed less than $200 for it at Wal-Mart. There was a trap tournament coming up at the range and my son asked if he could shoot in it. Well he did, won the shoot, and beat the high dollar guns including the Perazzis. I suspected then that he had a gift that you can't teach, 20/15 vision and superb eye hand cordination. He saved his money and with a little help from pop he purchased his first over/under, a Browning Citori. He had Briley fit it for sub gauge tubes and he was on his way to the races. I would load a five gallon bucket full of reloades and send him to the range each weekend. Just about wore out 4 Mec 9000's. He had to take a sabbatical from shooting for a few years to raise 5 kids but has returned with determination. I suspect he has another World Championship in his sights, but he is 54 years old now wearing glasses and hearing aides. If anyone can do it he can. I have never seen an individual with as much drive and determination that he has. "I can't" and "I quit" are words that I have never heard come out of his mouth. The morning of the doubles shoot off against the late great Wayne Mays he said he was ready mentally. He said Wayne put his pants on this morning just like I did. One leg at a time. As you can tell I'm very proud of my son. Before I conclude this lengthy dissertation I'll leave you with this bit of funny. He was helping me one day on a station that I was having trouble on. He told me to look at the target real hard. Look at the ridges on the target and watch it spin. I looked at him in disbelief and asked do you see that? He said yes, what do you see? I said an orange streak about a foot long. He asked where are you shooting? I said right in the middle of the streak. He just shook his head. That's my boy. Google Les Lala Skeet and you can read a little about his life and family. Take care, Les' dad. Edit. I think the guy you saw shooting from the hip was Brian Rishel. He used to do that our range and amaze us.
 
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Mr. Cootrp3, what a nice "dissertation" you wrote; thanks for posting — and for the Google recommendation. I can only imagine the pride you feel for your son.

BTW, I hope Norie is doing well.
 
Norie has beat the breast cancer and they both stay very busy. One in college, one in cosmetology school, one in high school playing field hockey and the twins are playing soccer. They are constantly running but Les does find time to get to the range each week. Now he is reloading on his own. Another funny. He wanted to do some reloading years ago when still in high school. I gave him the reigns and was enjoying not being in a hot garage pulling handles all day. One day at the range shooting the 20 ga. I had a round that sounded like a howitzer. The guys shooting with me asked me if I was shooting gorilla loads. It was a double drop of powder that split my 20 ga. chamber. Off to Briley for a replacement it went. All I do now is shoot .22 rf bench rest in our local club matches. Lost all of my skeet equipment, including the gun in hurricane Katrina and have not replaced it. I'm shooting a Turbo V3, Rotex stock, Bix and Andy, Muller 4 MI, March HM 48x52, Harrell tuner. I wish we could reload match grade .22 ammo since most of it is unobtainable at present.
 
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GeneT said:
Another one comes to mind... Years ago I bought my wife a Kimber Compact .45 for her to carry. I've always been annoyed that when a woman goes shopping for a pistol the folks behind the counter always spit out the tiny Ravens, and Jennings, POS pistols that *no one* can shoot well. In any case, I got her the .45 and a friend had bought a 9mm Glock around the same time (Glocks were still a novelty back then). We headed out into the Oregon woods for a shooting trip. On our way out, my friend (we'll call him "Dave" - because that was his name...) went on at length about how I'd done the wrong thing, and that "a .45 is too much gun for a woman". Upon arriving at our destination, we set up and began to shoot. I don't recall the distance - not long, but not point blank either. In any case, I gave my wife the two-minute spiel and set her loose with her new gun. She fired 4-5 shots and then looked at me and said "I can't see where I'm hitting...". I could, so I just told her to continue. She fired the remaining 2-3 rounds and had a nice, single, ~1" hole just a little lower than her aiming point. All shots touching.

Meanwhile, Dave had splattered his target with randomness in every which direction. He tried saying "sights are off" (which made no sense given the shotgun pattern he'd produced). I took the gun and drilled a couple into pretty much center. It was a long drive home for Dave. I'm sure he never wants to hear the words "A .45 is too much gun for a woman" ever again...

GsT
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"Meanwhile, Dave had splattered his target with randomness in every which direction."

Ha!

I'll have to use that line sometime, that's good!

Take care,

Greg
 
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