snert
Silver $$ Contributor
KIDS TODAY HAVE IT EASY: Reflections of a well spent youth
I took my son out and let him shoot up about 50 rounds of 12 gauge on some clay birds. I realized I did him a disservice. I recall when I shot clays as a teen.. First I would beg and plead for weeks for my dad to take me to the club so I could scrounge 20 used clay birds. Then I would try to get together 10-15 16 gauge shells. Of course dad only bought Remington Hi-Brass Express #5, and even in the 70's 16 gauge was scarce, so he bought very few and complained every time. We used them in his Sears and Roebuck double that likely had a short chamber. It had a sharp drop stock for "handling"and a checkered plastic meat mallet "recoil" pad. Of course I then had to get dad to allow me to use the tractor, wagon and thrower, convince him to come along. I would set up the trap and he would "pull". I loaded the clays on the loader though. Then I would put that "Stick of Satan" 16 gauge to my t-shirt clad bony shoulder, call "pull" and then bust the first bird, detonating my ears, shredding the skin on my shoulder and loosening teeth. Blurred vision and a runny nose were not uncommon. After 10-12 hits I was sweating, bleeding and happier than a clam. I could not wait till the next summer when I could do it again. Now that kind of practice makes you focus Mister! Kids nowadays have it too easy. My son will never shoot as well as me. I made it too easy for him.
I also took him shooting a 22. He sat on a porch at a 400 dollar rest and shot an 800 dollar 22 with a 400 dollar scope at steel swinging self-resetting targets. He liked that. He shot 100 shells, all target match.
When I learned, it was with a Winchester 67, open sights. My bullets were specially formulated. All 12 of them. They were a mix of several brands and boxes, dropped in my pocket where the wax would melt and the fuzz in my pocket would cushion the lead bullet by sticking to it. My range was a neighbors yard, where I would pick a stalk of grass gone to seed, lean the stem against a sapling, and then sit or stand and try to cut the stem with the round. I could do it with alacrity. I got 50 shells a year. Dad expected 48 hits. I was not allowed to own a semi- auto. I was told one shot could kill you, so who needed more? Kids now have it too easy. My son will never shoot as well as me.
My son bought an airsoft gun and thousands of those hard plastic BBs that I keep stepping on. The gun runs on a battery. Full auto. It runs out of battery faster than BB's. Ticks me off. Mostly because as a kid I had a single shot pellet gun that I had to buy felt cleaning pellets for so I could shoot my friends without hurting them. Made for pretty slow gunfights! My kid has it too easy!
I had a Daisy 881. It allowed for 10 pumps to max power, to shoot one BB, and who the heck ever shot it with LESS than 10 pumps? Only sissies. I would get a box of BBs with my buddy (550 in a carton) and shoot them all in a day. We shot bottles at the dump, till we only had pieces. Then we would shoot pieces. Then we would shoot bottles in the air, and the other guy would shoot the broken pieces. Then we would shoot pieces tossed in the air.
When we got home, covered in nettles and glass dust, cuts on our fingers, our arms would ache for hours from pumping. And we would immediately lobby for more BBs. My kid has it too easy and will never shoot as well as me.
I considered buying a bow for my son. I think, upon reflection of my past, I will not put that thought in his head.
When I was a kid I had several bows. I had a fiberglass stickbow without an arrow rest. I shot cedar arrows (not a single one matched) with real big hard feathers and bullet-like points. I rested the arrow on my hand. Still have a divot in my left forefinger where the fletching would tear off meat. I adapted by using electrical tape to put a wedge of wood on the bow as a rest. That worked until the feather (real) tore off, deflecting the feather vane into my hand, midway between my thumb and forefinger. There is a divot there, too. Of course my left forearm turned to black and blue leather from the string hitting it.
And then there was Spot...my dog. I learned that arrows can be slowed down and redirected after firing, using telepathy. Really. I am sure if you have a bow you have tried this. For me, I mastered it, out of necessity. I first learned this ability when Spot ran in front of me as I released an arrow at a pumpkin. I slowed the arrow down and turned it away from his soft vitals into his hard-as-a-rock head, where it briefly imbedded, but popped back out. I was glad. Hate to lose a good cedar arrow. Dog was no dumber after the event than before. I do not own a dog now, but my son has younger sisters. He cannot have a bow.
I learned that arrows, when shot directly up at bats at night disappear into the night sky, and they make a swish sound as they come back down. Because there is a God, arrows shot directly up never come down on your head. They come down close enough to your friends to make them cry and mess their pants though. Shooting at bats is especially fun, and it is a surprise when you actually hit a bat after about 5000 tries. Bats make a THWAK sound when hit by a cedar arrow, followed by erratic descent and squeels. In my case the squeels were from my mother, who had the bat land at her feet on the porch where she was reading. Mom's in those days did not pay enough attention, which is why I turned into a good shot with a bow and actually got to buy a compound bow.
I discovered that a compound bow would shoot an arrow all the way across the field behind my house and into the lawn of the police station,next to the occupied cop car. No kidding. Fortunately I never owned two arrows of the same kind so the investigation was stymied by lack of corrosponding evidence.
I also learned that shooting rabbits on the run with a compound did not work as well as with a recurve. I recall the day I shot four (in 26 tries) in the 2 acre lot between my neighbors houses. I learned from that day in the field that no one is home from noon to 4PM. I also learned that times flies when you are having fun and no one is watching. I also learned that at 415 PM or so they do come home and were not as excited as I was about four dead rabbits and arrows stuck in their lawn. Some people just never learn to appreciate the hunt. Or how much fun it is slinging arrows at running rabbits that are afraid to run across 500 yards of trimmed grass to get to the next cover. Round and round they went in the lot, multicolored cedar arrows sailing at them! Darned good little spot for bunnies that building lot was! Too bad it was between four houses. Otherwise I could have used the 16 gauge!
My kid better never hunt rabbits!
He would never be as good at it as me. It was better in the old days when things were harder. ;D
I took my son out and let him shoot up about 50 rounds of 12 gauge on some clay birds. I realized I did him a disservice. I recall when I shot clays as a teen.. First I would beg and plead for weeks for my dad to take me to the club so I could scrounge 20 used clay birds. Then I would try to get together 10-15 16 gauge shells. Of course dad only bought Remington Hi-Brass Express #5, and even in the 70's 16 gauge was scarce, so he bought very few and complained every time. We used them in his Sears and Roebuck double that likely had a short chamber. It had a sharp drop stock for "handling"and a checkered plastic meat mallet "recoil" pad. Of course I then had to get dad to allow me to use the tractor, wagon and thrower, convince him to come along. I would set up the trap and he would "pull". I loaded the clays on the loader though. Then I would put that "Stick of Satan" 16 gauge to my t-shirt clad bony shoulder, call "pull" and then bust the first bird, detonating my ears, shredding the skin on my shoulder and loosening teeth. Blurred vision and a runny nose were not uncommon. After 10-12 hits I was sweating, bleeding and happier than a clam. I could not wait till the next summer when I could do it again. Now that kind of practice makes you focus Mister! Kids nowadays have it too easy. My son will never shoot as well as me. I made it too easy for him.
I also took him shooting a 22. He sat on a porch at a 400 dollar rest and shot an 800 dollar 22 with a 400 dollar scope at steel swinging self-resetting targets. He liked that. He shot 100 shells, all target match.
When I learned, it was with a Winchester 67, open sights. My bullets were specially formulated. All 12 of them. They were a mix of several brands and boxes, dropped in my pocket where the wax would melt and the fuzz in my pocket would cushion the lead bullet by sticking to it. My range was a neighbors yard, where I would pick a stalk of grass gone to seed, lean the stem against a sapling, and then sit or stand and try to cut the stem with the round. I could do it with alacrity. I got 50 shells a year. Dad expected 48 hits. I was not allowed to own a semi- auto. I was told one shot could kill you, so who needed more? Kids now have it too easy. My son will never shoot as well as me.
My son bought an airsoft gun and thousands of those hard plastic BBs that I keep stepping on. The gun runs on a battery. Full auto. It runs out of battery faster than BB's. Ticks me off. Mostly because as a kid I had a single shot pellet gun that I had to buy felt cleaning pellets for so I could shoot my friends without hurting them. Made for pretty slow gunfights! My kid has it too easy!
I had a Daisy 881. It allowed for 10 pumps to max power, to shoot one BB, and who the heck ever shot it with LESS than 10 pumps? Only sissies. I would get a box of BBs with my buddy (550 in a carton) and shoot them all in a day. We shot bottles at the dump, till we only had pieces. Then we would shoot pieces. Then we would shoot bottles in the air, and the other guy would shoot the broken pieces. Then we would shoot pieces tossed in the air.
When we got home, covered in nettles and glass dust, cuts on our fingers, our arms would ache for hours from pumping. And we would immediately lobby for more BBs. My kid has it too easy and will never shoot as well as me.
I considered buying a bow for my son. I think, upon reflection of my past, I will not put that thought in his head.
When I was a kid I had several bows. I had a fiberglass stickbow without an arrow rest. I shot cedar arrows (not a single one matched) with real big hard feathers and bullet-like points. I rested the arrow on my hand. Still have a divot in my left forefinger where the fletching would tear off meat. I adapted by using electrical tape to put a wedge of wood on the bow as a rest. That worked until the feather (real) tore off, deflecting the feather vane into my hand, midway between my thumb and forefinger. There is a divot there, too. Of course my left forearm turned to black and blue leather from the string hitting it.
And then there was Spot...my dog. I learned that arrows can be slowed down and redirected after firing, using telepathy. Really. I am sure if you have a bow you have tried this. For me, I mastered it, out of necessity. I first learned this ability when Spot ran in front of me as I released an arrow at a pumpkin. I slowed the arrow down and turned it away from his soft vitals into his hard-as-a-rock head, where it briefly imbedded, but popped back out. I was glad. Hate to lose a good cedar arrow. Dog was no dumber after the event than before. I do not own a dog now, but my son has younger sisters. He cannot have a bow.
I learned that arrows, when shot directly up at bats at night disappear into the night sky, and they make a swish sound as they come back down. Because there is a God, arrows shot directly up never come down on your head. They come down close enough to your friends to make them cry and mess their pants though. Shooting at bats is especially fun, and it is a surprise when you actually hit a bat after about 5000 tries. Bats make a THWAK sound when hit by a cedar arrow, followed by erratic descent and squeels. In my case the squeels were from my mother, who had the bat land at her feet on the porch where she was reading. Mom's in those days did not pay enough attention, which is why I turned into a good shot with a bow and actually got to buy a compound bow.
I discovered that a compound bow would shoot an arrow all the way across the field behind my house and into the lawn of the police station,next to the occupied cop car. No kidding. Fortunately I never owned two arrows of the same kind so the investigation was stymied by lack of corrosponding evidence.
I also learned that shooting rabbits on the run with a compound did not work as well as with a recurve. I recall the day I shot four (in 26 tries) in the 2 acre lot between my neighbors houses. I learned from that day in the field that no one is home from noon to 4PM. I also learned that times flies when you are having fun and no one is watching. I also learned that at 415 PM or so they do come home and were not as excited as I was about four dead rabbits and arrows stuck in their lawn. Some people just never learn to appreciate the hunt. Or how much fun it is slinging arrows at running rabbits that are afraid to run across 500 yards of trimmed grass to get to the next cover. Round and round they went in the lot, multicolored cedar arrows sailing at them! Darned good little spot for bunnies that building lot was! Too bad it was between four houses. Otherwise I could have used the 16 gauge!
My kid better never hunt rabbits!
He would never be as good at it as me. It was better in the old days when things were harder. ;D
