A Shoot - In Texas

 

Do you even remember how to shoot, so-called LSP? Good question and I loaded up some guns in the rig and drove out to the range with Fr. C to find out. There we were, out in the field with a collection of guns, a few old pumps, a CZ SxS, a single shot 20, a no name Italian O/U and a collection of Rugers.

OK, all these guns, awesome, but could we shoot them? Sure enough we could, with C opening up handily with his Ruger .357 Mag revolver against steel plates. Bang. Watch those plates swing. Then it was onto shotguns.

C kicked off with his older Remington 870, which worked flawlessly, then I followed on with a Mossberg 835 Ultimag, smoke those skeet! Big fun and it was good to see the  old workhorse doing its thing, that gun's shot a lot of dove. Then my Remington 870, which worked well enough but has a rough cycle, it's newer than C's and not as good.

Next up, my CZ .20 SxS and C's 20 single shot 20, I think it's Turkish. The single worked just fine in C's capable hands and knocked our biodegradable enemy outta the sky every time. The CZ was great too, though you have to remember to sight right down the barrel, if you see the rib you'll miss.

Great result and as always, remember kids, it's important to actually aim your shotgun, firing in general direction, whilst enjoyable, tends not to hit the target. There is, perhaps, a moral in that. A box of White Flyer down, we finished off with Rugers, a .22 American, a Mk. IV 22/45 and a .357 Mag revolver.

The latter two belonged to C and I'm jealous, I want those pistols, even though I didn't shoot the Mark IV particularly well. Obviously need one to get more practice in. And it was all plinking enjoyment from thereon in, nice one.

So there you have it. Yes, both of us remembered how to shoot and shot pretty well, see those skeet smoke and explode like Focke Wulfs over the Oder. Great result, what a boost to get out and shoot, just you, the guns and the country of the great state of Texas. It clears the head, I tell you.

#2A,

LSP

Well Shoot

 

"Dad, let's go for a shoot." I thought about this, "What kind of shoot?" The once and maybe future Cadet replied, "A pistol shoot, my pal's never shot one because Canada and needs to get on it." I reflected on this, "D'ye know what .45 ACP costs, son?" and long story short, loaded up some guns in the rig and headed for the range.

First up, a no name Italian O/U 12 and a CZ 20 SxS, would the skeet survive the flak barrage? At first they did but we warmed up, smoking those clays like orange Focke Wulf's going down over France. Nice, good work, if remedial for me.

Then we moved on to .45 and I was genuinely impressed by the kids, really good shooting. Well done boys, and especially Canadian pal, right on in there without any prior experience, a natural. Hey, shoot on, and so we did, finishing up with a Ruger American .22 against random clays, shotgun shells, and assorted steel at 50 and 100 yards. Big fun.

Mission accomplished, we headed back to base and ordered pizza, cleaned weapons and all was well. What a great afternoon in the field.

#2A,

LSP

All Souls - New Gun

 

A friend gave me his old, rusting, neglected barn gun today, a Remington 870. It was a mess but the bore was clean enough, so I took the beast home and applied Hoppe's and a bore brush.

Filthy Gopping Mess

You should've seen the rust liquefy off, what a nasty, minging, filthy mess. But what a good result in the end, a clean gun, ready to shoot and do battle against the avian adversary and their clay simulacra.

A Clean Gun Is A Happy Gun

That in mind, say a prayer for the repose of the soul of Ronnie Storrs, it was his gun and he wasn't above using it on people who made the foolish mistake of messing about on his land unannounced.  Well, may he rest in peace and may his 870 find a place in the Compound's armory.

#2A

Have a blessed Feast of All Souls and as always,

Gun Rights.

LSP

Smoke That Skeet

 

Someone once said, famously, Speed is fine. Accuracy is final, and skeet shooting's a bit of both, not that I'm any kind of expert. The orange bird zips out fast and you have to be on to get it. A typically quick, accurate, snap shot.

And how good when you connect and smoke the clay challenger. There's something especially satisfying about hitting that small moving target and watching it dust off. Big fun, but here's the thing, readers.

You may think, because shotgun, that pointing in the general direction and letting loose is going to work, street sweeper style. Think again. It helps to aim. Seriously. Don't forget, in the shotgunnery excitement of all, to aim.  Put that bead on the bottom edge of the clay, "popsicle" it, and squeeze the trigger. A fast movement for sure, but an accurate one.

But what am I saying. All you competition shooters out there have forgotten more about the sport than I will ever know. Regardless, the misnomered White Flyers took a right beating today, not least from the kid. Great result.

Then, after a headshot plinkathon against small steel at 150 yards, .22 WMR, we headed back to base. And what a good day out in the country with guns, just sheer enjoyment. Thanks, CR, for the invite. And now?

Pork chops, Yorkshire Pudding(!), roast potatoes and all the rest. A delicious end to a great day's shoot. It's raining too, another plus. Thank you, Climate Change.

Your Pal,

LSP

Shoot The Guns

 

A new day, a new opportunity to shoot, so off we went to the range with a few guns, a 20 SxS, a 12 OU and a Marlin .22 WMR. Idea being to get some remedial shotgunnery in, and then a little plinking with the Marlin.

The range was overgrown and semi-flooded but we made it through, get a 4x4, LSP, and set up on dry ground next to a field, baking under a big Texan sky. The erstwhile Cadet went first, on the 12, and started smoking clays like a good 'un.

I followed up on the 20 and was more or less on, unlike the Specialist who specially smoked the clays with the same gun. Hmmm, improve your game, so-called "LSP." I did, and got in the zone, shooting far better to the right than left, curiously. Perhaps there's a moral in that.

A box of  orange "White Flyer" over, we moved on to the little magnum, shooting off the bed of the truck. Take that, fifty yard adversary, and the kid's offhand was impressive, right in the zone. Nice work. Then it was time to head back to the Compound, a good morning well spent.

I love shooting and file this tale under guns and country life in Texas.

Shoot straight,

LSP

Happy Juneteenth!

 

I don't know how you celebrated Juneteenth or even Kwanza, but here at the Compound it just seemed right to clean a couple of shotguns which had cleverly swum back from their watery grave in the mighty Brazos.

And what filthy beasts they were! You see, it's all very well to have guns but if you don't clean them they don't work, they jam, seize up and fail. Just the other day I watched a friend unleash his Remington 870 on a clay. Boom, smoked it, and then what? 

A Gun

Nothing, the gun failed to extract, and all because the chamber hadn't been cleaned in a years worth of Sundays. Net result? Shell stuck in chamber, gun useless except as Zulu style club. And we all know spear chuckers can be deadly but properly functioning firearms deadlier still, so set about those guns with Juneteenth fervor. Let's see 'em shine, inside and out.

A Juneteenth Angel

And shine they did. Excited, I texted a friend in England who had been in the Army (TA) and he asked if it brought back memories. It did, of course. Weapons cleaning, running, endless shaving and ironing, a Sergeant directing our parade attention to a "Colour" ambling largely along the edge of the Square, "Look at that, boys. Too fat to F***ing fight. Get OFF MY SQUARE. YOU'RE F***ING TILTING IT." 

Another Gun!

"That story," remarked my pal, "has stuck with me, indelibly." And same here, but of course I was there, back in the mists of time. Text convo over, Eduardo tipped up on the porch, he runs a chicken operation behind the Compound and has bad English, "Mi Padre, favor?" he asked, eyeing gleaming shotguns. "Car no good, drive to liquor store?"

Yet Moar Gun

Off we went, and he bought a case of beer for Fathers Day. Well done that man. And with that, all three of you gentle readers, all was well with the world on this great, awesome, holy and wonderful holiday that is... Juneteenth. Gun rights.

Your Pal,

LSP

Look What I Found!

 

And at normal price, too, from Walmart. Some claim the age of miracles is over. I would dispute that claim.

Shoot straight,

LSP

April Fools Shoot

CC swung by from the metrosprawl with a truckload of guns, he especially wanted to see if an old Winchester 1200 pump worked after visiting an armorer. We drove out into the Texan countryside to find out. 

Fail!

The 1200 was up first against the clays, which call themselves White Flyers even though they're orange. Anyway, hopes were high that the Winchester was going to work, it usually doesn't, and CC lined up to shoot, "Pull!" and off flew the orange adversaries into a big sky. Boom, down went a few clays, it looked like the gun was working.

A Glock & A Ruger

Until it didn't. After the first few rounds the troubled beast didn't want to feed, had trouble ejecting and then stopped firing altogether. You'd chamber a round, squeeze the trigger and... nothing. I advised CC to sell the April Fools gun to a pawn shop or part ex it for something useful.

Winchester Model 90?

We changed over to a CZ Bobwhite 20 and merrily smoked skeet till all the ammo was gone. What a lot of fun and what a great little gun. Thanks, TC. After a short bout with a Ruger Redhawk (sorry, Security 6) .357 Magnum and a Glock 21 .45, it was time to plink.

The Range

Shotgun shells, cans, milk jugs, bits of broken skeet, steel plates and more all fell under a deadly hail of .22 LR sent via Ruger and Remington. Hours of enjoyment and then it was time to head back to the Compound, a good time had by all.

Big Sky

In related news, New Zealand's banned pump action shotguns so that only criminals can have them. Now they're much safer.

Gun rights,

LSP

Unicorn Hunting

I can't remember a time when I haven't hunted unicorns but some times stand out, such as today. 

Consider the options. Stare, slack-jawed at the computer as it records Manafort's fall from grace or get out in the field, after the noble unicorn.

Thanks to Compound News, I chose the latter option. And you know what they say, better outdoors.

All the colors of the rainbow,

LSP

Tales of Country Life in Texas

It was a day much like any other day, triple digit heat bouncing off Walmart's car park and you could feel the nuttiness as soon as you got inside the store. 

There it was, no sooner through the automatic doors and people were acting weird, off-hand and unbalanced, as though things could spin out of control. Maybe it was the heat.

Random SMLE

I took a cart and pushed on to stock up, milk, bread, wine, cheese and for some reason, root beer. It seemed good to me, I don't know why and it wasn't easy to get, there was too much random motion.

As I pulled the 4 pack of IBC into the cart, a weather-beaten woman slid across the aisle in front of me in dirty socks. No shoes, just socks; I guess it's easier to skate over Walmart's vinyl floor in socks, shoes have too much traction. I dodged out of the way but didn't get far.

Furries

A grinning, white haired giant loomed out of the freezer aisle into my path. "Say," he growled, "What's the only room in the hospital where they'll notice you?" I wasn't feeling quick and told him I didn't know. That satisfied him, after all, this was his joke. "I'll tell you, Emergency. They have a sign, says I... C... U..." 

We locked eyes and a grin creased his already lined, tan face. I told him that was pretty funny and he nodded. A moment of understanding. In the meanwhile, sock-skater had disappeared into the depths of the store and I checked out, passing the old men sitting on the bench outside the hair salon, looking brown as nuts under their veterans hats and not doing much at all except regarding the spectacle of the place unfold. This was their afternoon; I noticed one had been in Korea, but don't stare, it's rude.

Note The 12

I loaded my groceries into the rig and there, across the melting asphalt, were two young guys playing show-and-tell with a pump action twelve gauge outside their truck. Hey, why not, it's Walmart in August, there's no rule. 

Back home, Eduardo and Maria were slaughtering chickens in the back yard and getting it on to some Mexican music. They're good people and I like them; sometimes they bring me fresh eggs, which taste better than the things you buy in stores.

And that's country life.

In Texas,

LSP

Vicarious Duck Hunting

"I'm off to the lease early," said my philisophical pal, GWB, "So I can shoot some ducks and get back to the metrosprawl for Mass." And that's what he did, see above.

I wanted to join in, too, but couldn't because of a funeral and a wedding, to say nothing of a burned hand. Speaking of which, my old friend, VCC (Veteran Crew Chief), who once turned out a roving band of motorcycle hippies from his stock tank, asked me how the hand was doing.

EMU

"How's that hand, LSP?"

"Better, but here's my advice."

"What's that?"

"Don't pour boiling oil on your fingers. If you do, they're good for nothing."

"Hey, you can always eat them."

A Typical Motorcycle Hippy

VCC tells me he enjoyed Laos, Cambodia and helicopters but didn't much like the military, or motorcycle hippies chancing it out of Austin. Regardless, for me, the hunting's vicarious. That will change.

Get out in the field.

LSP

Walking in Texas? Take a Gun.

They say that walking's good for you but in Texas you don't know what you'll find. 

Some Crew, All Wigged-Out In The Woods

Packs of wild dogs, turkeys, fierce hogs, maybe a dove or two and the occasional wigged-out crew of freaks, holed up in the brush, trying to "find the gig" and get back to Austin.

Mind How You Go

So I like to take a 12 gauge. 

Be safe,

LSP