Showing posts with label redneck skeet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label redneck skeet. Show all posts

Monday, March 25, 2019

Monday Shoot



One of the good things about the Feast of the Annunciation is you get to go out and shoot, which is exactly what we did. The orange adversary fell under a flak-tower hail of shot. 

I tell you, it was like screaming Messerschmitts going down over the Channel. But here's a thought.




If you want to hit the clay or for that matter the bird, you mostly have to aim. That's right, put the bead on the target as opposed to firing off in the general direction like some crazed Hitler Youth. It makes a difference.

You see, people come to shotgunnery with all kinds of myths and psychic seconds of forever. They think, understandably perhaps, that they have to over lead the fast moving orange or feathered target. This means they don't aim at it, take too long over the thing, and miss the shot.




No. Those lead BBs are flying out of the barrel at 1,200+ fps, they're fast, really fast. So put the bead on, aim, and shoot. Don't hold back, don't hesitate, engage the target and boom, smoke the clay, drop the bird.

After a while it becomes muscle memory and you can get into the nuance and lead of the thing, not that I'm an expert, but first things first, don't overthink the shot or you'll miss.




There's a moral here if you care to draw it.

Texas Rules,

LSP

Friday, January 4, 2019

Climate Change Shoot



One of the weird things about the climate is that it changes, no matter how much tax you pay or don't pay our elite rulers. Take Texas. 

Texas famously doesn't pay the weather tax and it's been raining for the last two days, it's been cold too. Go figure, thwart the Illuminati at your peril, but what happened? It stopped raining. That meant shoot.




We loaded up the rig with shotguns and pistols and headed out to the range. Wrap up warm? No, don't bother, the climate's changed and now it's hot and sunny. Wear your Wellington boots though because the range isn't far off a swamp. 

Right out of the gate Junior LSP was smoking clays with a Mossberg 835 Ultimag 12. Good work, kid. I followed on and shot pathetically. Dismal fail. 




But congrats young 'un and congrats 12. I thought the Mossberg was broken and needed a new set of extractors but no, the old beast was right on the money. Word to the wise, clean your weapons.

Next up, CZ's handy Bobwhite SxS 20. Great little gun and we knocked the orange clay adversary out of the sky like screaming Focke Wulfs going down over the Oder. 45s followed, a Glock 21 and a Beretta PX4 Storm.




Here's the the thing. I bought the Beretta years ago when I was pretty much a novice at pistols, apart from a brief exeat with Her Majesty's finest Brownings, which were as rubbish as I was. We made a team, the pistols couldn't hit anything and neither could I.

Whatever and fast forward, I shot thousands of rounds through the jolly PX$ Storm and there it was. Then, thanks to White Wolf Mine Consultancy Plc. I invested in a Glock 21. Same caliber, better gun.




Don't get me wrong, the Beretta's fine, it works, and I like the ergonomics of the grip, but the Glock's better. 

It's simpler, with less parts. It sits lower in the hand. It's sights are better. It's more substantial. Its magazines carry 13 rounds compared to the Storm's lacklustre 9 or 10. The Storm seems lightweight and toylike in comparison, imo.




Whatever, both guns were right on and the kid shot like a champ, plates swinging away like fury. I was impressed.

Then it was time to head for home in the light of a setting Texan sun, mission accomplished. Had we paid our Illuminati rulers some kind of tax for the privilege? 




No, we had not. Had the climate changed? Yes it had. 

Love,

LSP