|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Casual Sundays with Mr Curry
|
PULL!
This entry was posted on 10/10/2011 12:59 PM and is filed under blather, Family Fun.
I couldn't write about my Saturday until today because my arms were too sore to type. I still feel like I spent the weekend doing 10,000 pushups; my pecs are sore, my back is sore, the muscles in my forearms...even my wrists and hands are still a little sore.
What was I doing?
Having some of the most fun I've had in years.
I was learning to shoot.
It all started years ago, when Ty met Megan. She (her dad and brothers) taught Ty to shoot and her family's biggest Holiday of the year isn't Christmas, it's the opening weekend of Pheasant Hunting in South Dakota.
Jay used to hunt pheasant back before we started dating. He's said for years that we should take it up, that he missed it and that I'd love it as it constituted for the most part, walking through the woods and fields during the most beautiful time of the year.
So next weekend, we're heading back to SoDak and we're going pheasant hunting. I'm very excited about seeing Ty and Megan, whom I haven't seen since last Christmas. She's feeling much better, which is great.
Jay bought us two used Remington 870 pump action shotguns. I had never so much as touched a gun in my life. My Uncle Pat was a police officer and I remember him letting us kids see his gun back around 1967 but he didn't let us touch it. He never fired it once during the course of his long, illustrious career.
We agreed that I should know which end of a shotgun to hold before the big pheasant shoot so Jay got to talking with some of his guys.
Lucky for me, they were having a weekend gathering at a hunt club just south of town. Several of them were getting together, renting a cabin and bringing weapons for the practice range, as well as shotguns for the sporting clay circuit, all to be followed by steaks and cigars and adult beverages.
When they found out I had absolutely no gun experience at all, they were all very eager to share their knowledge. The self proclaimed token liberal, (Hey, there are liberals and there are liberals; this guy is a USNavy, cigar chomping, gun toting liberal with an arsenal that would scare the piss out of most of the liberals I know. In other words, my kind of liberal) showed me the proper way to hold a hand gun; right hand firm on grip, meat of the left hand firm on grip, fingers wrapped around right hand, trigger finger along barrel (first rule of gun safety; treat all guns as though they are loaded and hot. Second rule; never, ever put your finger inside the trigger guard until you are ready to shoot) feet shoulder width apart, left foot slightly forward, waist bent forward to create as sturdy a base from which to fire as possible. Gun at eye level, sight lined up on target.
The first few hours of the afternoon were spent on the sporting clay circuit, which was set up in the woods surrounding the cabin. I'm not sure how many stations there were (I saw at least 15 but we only shot at 6) but each consisted of two stands, facing into the woods where the clay throwers were strategically located to give different types of targets at each stand. At one, you might have targets flying from the left, then right, up high then straight ahead, rolling along the ground, then high in the sky or even two at once coming from the same place.
One of the rules of the club is that when not actually shooting, your gun must be empty and open so all can see that it's not loaded. Safety first.
You don't load your shotgun until you are up in the stand.
We broke into two groups and headed to the first stand. Jay and I were the newbies (Jay hasn't shot in thirty years) so we watched as the first group went to see how it all worked and the guys were very good at explaining everything; just like anyone enjoys explaining stuff they're enthusiastic about.
When it was my turn, one of the guys stepped up into the stand with me and showed me how to load my shotgun. He walked me through the whole process; load, chamber, safety off, when you're ready, call 'pull' and the target is launched, sight, shoot, pump, sight, second shot. Then he stepped off the stand and I did it for real.
I can honestly say that the recoil and the shock of the stock as it kicked into me was pretty much exactly as I had imagined it would be. It was very powerful and I concentrated on holding the stock firmly against myself to minimize the shock. You don't want to give the butt a running start before it slams into you.
So, after the first pair, which I missed, of course, I adjusted and took my time with lining up the shot.
I hit one of the pair on my second pull!
Pulverized it, in fact!!
What a rush!!
We kept score and when we finished, Jay had hit four birds, including a true pair! That's when two clays go up at once, so you have to be quick. Not bad for being so rusty.
I hit eight.
Yes, that's twice as many as my husband. What? He's a better cook, I'm a better shot. It's why we work so well together.
You just put on your apron, sweetie and I'll go out and fetch us some dinner.
That concluded the shotgun portion of the day. We put them away and headed out to the firing range.
This is where our friends demonstrated their enthusiasm and generosity. They had each brought along cases of fire arms and couldn't wait to show us how each one worked. Over the course of the next few hours, we fired rifles, pistols, revolvers, .22s, 9mm, 40mm, American made, German made, Czech made and one vintage WWII Chinese rifle that still had it's bayonet folded back along the barrel.
We learned that the ammo cartridges are called 'magazines' not 'clips'. It's just one more way in which Hollywood gets it wrong. You know those movie gang bangers holding a gun sideways? You literally couldn't hit the broad side of a barn shooting a gun like that. It would be like trying to hit a golf ball holding the club with the head upside down.
When we got to the firing range, the first thing we did was establish a firing line; no one beyond that line unless they are ready to shoot. When you step beyond the line, you call out "HOT" to let everyone know you're shooting. You don't load your weapon until you step up to the line. No loaded arms behind the line. When it was time to change out the paper targets, "COLD" was called and repeated by everyone until all magazines were empty and everyone stepped behind the line. Only then were all arms laid down and targets changed out.
I quickly realized that the only way to get shot at the firing range is on purpose. These guys are having tons of fun but they take it very seriously. Like hang gliders or scuba divers, they're very aware of the fact that a screw up could mean death, so they make sure there are no screw ups. (I almost wrote 'bicyclists' but lets face it; those bikers seem to think they are impervious to harm the way they weave in and out of traffic and ignore the rules of the road. The scariest person on earth would be a bicyclist with a gun.[except for you, Mitch.])
They were all very eager to show off their guns and by that I mean they couldn't wait to show us each one, describe what it was and how it worked, walk us through the firing process and let us take it to the line and try it out. They couldn't have been more generous with their weapons or ammunition. I found out that it's almost impossible to fire any of these guns accidentally. In addition to having safety mechanisms, the cartridges had to be chambered before you could shoot, which involved different motions in different guns.
I learned how to fire rifles including a Ruger 22mm, a Chinese SKS and an antique Winchester 30/30 like Tell Sackett used.
I fired a six shooter that looked exactly like an old cowboy gun. I learned to fire a 38 special, a Ruger mark 2, a Sig Sauer 40mm, a Smith and Wesson 9mm, a CZ75 9mm and a Ruger 380 that is so slim and small that it looks like a cell phone in your pocket so when you get your conceal carry permit the folks in line at Target won't be afraid of you.
Hahahahaaa!!!
After several hours of shooting, my right pec was sore from the constant pounding, so I had to decline any more offers to fire rifles. I was trying not to get so sore that I wouldn't be able to paint the next day.
The only hand gun I didn't like firing was the snub nose 38 Special. It's kick was so sharp it actually hurt my wrists. They told me that's from the combination of the short barrel and the high calibre; lots of power crammed into two inches.
When all was said and done, it turned out all my favorites happened to be Rugers. The six shooter, the Mark 2 and the .22 rifle. I think I liked them best because they were all .22s. I know it's girly but the lower calibre just made it so much easier to control the shot. Those were the guns I felt most like I could hit what I was aiming at, although I think I hit the target with everything but the Winchester. I blame the sights, which everyone agreed were way too high.
Anyway, for personal protection, it's better to have a lower calibre gun with which you can hit what you aim at than a canon you'll just blow off the front of your house with.
And all the guys agreed that for home protection you can't do better than a pump action shot gun. The sound of that pump action alone is enough to give an evil doer pause.
Cha-chunk. "Get out."
"yes, sir."
You don't even have to load it!
I like that kind of efficiency.
We picked up our steaks from the club's restaurant and ate them at the cabin. The food was very good although the beer wasn't. The cigars were outstanding but I didn't smoke. As I told the guys, I try to avoid habit forming things I think I'll like.
By the time Jay and I hit the road for home, our bruises were starting to show and our muscles were starting to get stiff.
It was a good day.
|
|
|
|
|
|
