It's a sad fact of life that in this vale of tears we have enemies. My enemy is an ancient steel turkey and I took some time off from visiting the sick to take care of unfinished business.
We faced off at 100 yards, just me, the metal bird and a Ruger American .22. To be honest, I had an ulterior motive. Viz. To improve the recent abysmal standard of my off-hand shooting. So I shot away and while my marksmanship was nothing to write home about, it wasn't too bad either. Take that, turkey.
After a string of satisfying plinks as the .22 rounds hit the bird, I shifted to clays at 50, 75 and 100 yards. A bit more of a challenge than the turk and it's neat to see them shatter when you hit them. A couple of aggressive tin cans found themselves in trouble too. Breath, squeeze the trigger and watch the can fly up in the air. Neat.
Shoot over, I headed back to the Compound and the prospect of large steaks for dinner. There's nothing quite like doing your best to break personal stereotypes, I always think.
Your Old Pal,
LSP
2 comments:
I'm glad that the range remained intact and that you are disintegrating the turkey (and the sporting clays). It's a good way to spend a Saturday -- in contemplation of shooting followed by a steak.
I need a rifle range in my back yard. Really.
We all have needs, don't we?
I wonder if the guy who owns the range is willing to sell off some acreage in that area. It's quite nice and pleasantly remote.
It is nice around there -- I'll ask.
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