Shooting

During the late summer of 1971, while we were out of town, my trusty Winchester, Model 12, twelve gauge pump with a modified barrel, that I had shot for over twenty years, along with all of my other guns, a new Sony TV that I won in a sales manager's contest and my brand new Buick Electra 225, were stolen.  What really upset me was that the thieves took my Dad’s Fox, sixteen gauge, side by side.  Many times I have wished that I had that old one back!

The car was found undamaged the next week, but nothing else was ever recovered.  The police told me that my guns went to Mexico and that someone in Arizona (probably) got a real good Sony TV!

My insurance settlement, received in early fall, was quite generous and I headed to Oshman’s in Scottsdale to restock my weapons.  Having become interested in trap shooting, my first purchase was a Remington 870, twelve gauge, with a trap barrel and ventilated rib.  This shotgun served me very well over the five years that I shot competitive trap and it was also a deadly weapon on ducks and geese!
 
But, if I had been real smart I would have invested in a Perotzzi trap gun!  Laughingly, I say that, but I was never a good shot with a trap gun.  The stocks high comb, and me being blessed with a short neck and arms, precluded me from getting my head satisfactorily down on the stock.  A simple lengthening of my 870’s stock was all it took to give me the correct sight picture for trap shooting.
 
As soon as we moved to Arizona, we started seeing Gambel quail and our roamings in the foothills and the deserts only showed us more of these remarkable, little runners.  This led to my second purchase, a Remington 870, twenty gauge, pump with a ventilated rib and skeet barrel that I shot for over thirty-five years.
 
However, not planning to shoot skeet, this shotgun, shooting “heavy” one ounce, reloads of seven and a halfs or eights, chalked up amazing numbers of quail and doves.  One afternoon in Mexico, using the twenty gauge, pump, I shot one hundred white wings with one hundred twenty-nine shells!  On the skeet field it was equally impressive, helping me to shoot many twenty-fives European style.  My Son, Randy, has this gun now.

I don’t think that I was a “natural” shooter although in the Army I shot Expert with the M-1 Garand and M-2 Carbine.  Probably friendly pasters!  But I did learn early on that if you’re going to be a good, competitive shooter, you had to practice regularly.  This practice carries over into the field, helps in judging shot distances and reinforces correct shooting techniques – see the proper sight picture whether you track, lead or swing on the target, keep your head down on the stock, keep swinging after you shoot and pretty soon the hits will really start to add up whether you’re shooting clay or real birds.
 
In 1975 returning to Arizona on a business trip, I found out what befell the thieves that broke into my house and stole my stuff and how they were finally apprehended.  Their “business” was so good they had opened a used furniture store on Indian School Road in east Phoenix and of course much of the stock was stolen goods.

They had just committed another home robbery taking a TV and some guns. Of all things, the latest victim showed up in their used furniture store looking for a TV to replace the one these guys had just stolen.  Spotting one just like his, he looked a little closer and saw his Social Security number that he had engraved on the back. He left the store without a purchase, went to the police and thus ended the careers of a vicious gang of thieves.
 
Their store closed too, but they had a get your stuff sale, not a going out of business sale!

Last Saturday Wesley, my Grandson and Paul, his Dad and my Son-In-Law, did some shooting.  We spent some real quality time teaching Wesley the finer points of shooting and firearm safety.  

Paul had his Dad’s, now his, Remington 511, .22 cal. Rifle.  My first rifle was a Remington 510, single shot, that my Dad bought for me in 1945.  The two guns are identical except the 511 is drilled and tapped for a scope and is clip fed.

Paul is going over with Wesley correct shooting technique and stressing gun safety!

Wesley is taking aim

His first shot was six o’clock low.  Notice the “home made” target.  Any used paper plate will do!  Earlier, checking out the scope, Paul had nailed his first shot, dead center.

Wesley's second shot was just off the “bull”.  His third shot was in the bull's eye. 

Wesley is now ready to move up to his Dad’s .223 and go after a deer.  We’re planning on the second week of the season and I’ll let everyone know about his success!

My last trap shoot was in 1975, at the Moccasin Bend Trap Club, in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and we decided to make a family weekend out of it. The family piled into our camper and we took the leisurely two hour, drive from Sandy Springs, Georgia to Chattanooga and checked into the Chattanooga Choo-Choo, a real neat hotel converted from a bunch of old sleeper cars, complete with a dining car. The kids still talk about it.

We visited “See Ruby Falls”, as advertised on barn tops along the freeway and I hated the elevator ride down to the falls; the Incline Railway, Lookout Mountain Battlefield and Chickamauga, the site of the largest battle fought in the western theatre during our Civil War.

Sunday morning found us on the way to the gun club and I was going to surprise the “good ‘ole boys” in Tennessee. Being a real “hot” shooter out west, but not known east of the Mississippi, I “bought” myself in the Calcutta for the minimum amount, a whopping $3.00.

The featured event was the handicap shoot and I was placed with the long yardage shooters.  As is said in trap shooting circles, “I was smokin’ ‘em.”  Walking to the last station and leading the shoot with only two misses out of ninety-five clay birds, the thought of my potential winnings, Over $1,000.00 flashed through my mind.  Quickly pushing the errant thought out, my concentration returned. And I barked, “Pull!”

The clay pigeon wobbled out of the trap machine, an easy, hard right bird, that I swung on, led and pulled the trigger; no bam, no ignition of the shell, nothing but a fluttering clay bird floating to the ground. The puller/ scorekeeper called out “lost bird” with me just looking funny at my trusty trap model shotgun.

A quick inspection told me that the trigger mechanism had failed.  I had five minutes to fix the trigger, or get another gun, otherwise I would be disqualified and my only option was to get my ex-wife’s automatic, with a shortened stock.

Missing three out of the last five clays and finishing second, which paid $200.00, plus another $150.00 from the Calcutta, I thought, so much for a big “hit”!   At least we paid for our weekend!

After this shoot, with my day job requiring so much of my time, and my kids being active in sports, at a very young age I retired myself from competitive shooting.  As I have mentioned before, “Sometimes a good day job can really interfere with your avocation.”

I was reading “The Best Of Nash Buckingham”, by George Bird Evans and came across Nash and his friends using 10 gauge, W & C Scott And Sons, shotguns on ducks and geese in Mississippi and Arkansas.  Around the turn of the 20th century, when he was a boy, if the owner of one of these prized guns wasn’t using it, Nash laid claim to it.  The adult members of their exclusive shooting club, Beaver Dam Duck Club, preferred the large charges, 4 drams of powder and 1-¼ ounces of number 4 shot, that these big bore, 10’s propelled at their quarry.

Now for the rest of the story!

When I was a mere lad in high school, I traded a throwing knife to one of my friends for an old shotgun, a Damascus barrel, 10, gauge with a gold shield inlaid into the comb of the stock.  The gun was in good condition except that it had a severely broken stock right where the action joined. My friend said that he thought someone had been hit with it.  Into the closet at my Mom’ and Dad’s it went for 20 years until I moved to Arizona.

Having a real good job and some extra money, before I left I took the stock to a local gun shop that specialized in repairing antique fire arms. And, for safekeeping, I took the shotgun, sans stock, to my brother-in-law, Jim.   With the owner mentioning what a pretty piece of wood it was, I left it with him and told him that I would call in about a month.  

That month turned into 5 and when I went back to Houston, I stopped by the shop and was greeted by a vacant building.  One call to another gun shop and I found out that the proprietor had died and creditors claimed the inventory.  

For the next 35 years the old, shotgun slipped my mind, until Jim died and his wife asked me if I knew anything about the old shotgun without a stock?  The memories of the original trade, leaving the gun, taking the stock to be fixed and the shop being vacated, flooded through my mind.  “Yes, I certainly remember my old gun!”

Brad, who is an excellent gunsmith, picked up the gun for me and said he could get another stock for it and fix the trigger sear.  Over the years the trigger sear had been broken, probably from the original wallop.  Brad, really doing a great job, added a new stock and he also machined a new sear and then the old gun went up on my ranch house, wall.
 
We knew the gun was a 10 gauge, W.& C. Scott And Sons, shotgun and the mention of one like it in the book, spurred me to get it down and take a closer look.

Sure enough, the underside of the barrel shows that the gun is a 10 gauge and can safely handle 4 drams of powder and throw out 1-1/4 ounces of shot, just like Nash mentioned.

The serial number is 6492 and the gun, a very low serial number one, since the numbers ran into the 60,000's, was a Premier Model, probably built around 1890 and it has over 50 percent of the “brown” still on it.  Back then guns weren’t blued.

Except for the barrels and stock, the gun is covered with beautiful engraving.  The receiver frame, trigger guard, hammers, sight ramp and even the release mechanism on the fore end are covered with the etchings.  This along with the “flowerly” shapes of the wrapped steel, better known as, Damascus, barrels give the old shotgun loads of appeal.

The W & C Scott And Sons, 10 gauge, graces the wall in my ranch house eagerly awaiting a call to service that will never come, the twist steel barrels are just too risky to chance, but it is a great conversation piece – Almost A Relic!
 

Pistol shooting practice time this past Saturday afternoon for Wesley Culbertson, my Grandson, furnished us with a very unusual hit on a clay pigeon target.  The kids like to shoot them because they shatter so easy!  Not this one!
 
Like any good Texan, Wesley’s first shot drilled it dead center, but the clay bird remained intact.  His second shot clipped the top off and his third one demolished it!

Wesley has been practicing pistol shooting and pistol safety with his Dad, Paul, and the 9 year old has certainly made progress.  Pistols can be tricky to shoot and hit a target with any regularity.  Some secrets that Wesley has already picked up – keep your finger off of the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,  have a good grip, get a good sight picture, then squeeze, don’t jerk.  This holds for a .22 up to a .45 auto.

Here Wesley and his Mom, Suzanne are taking shots and hitting the clay birds.
 
 

Both of them are good shots and are safe shooters, but they should straighten up their posture a little.

Three generations practicing our shooting sports, not bad!

At our softball practice this past Wednesday, I told Mickey Donahoo, a Mills county resident and Senior Softball player, about how good my new .17 HMR rifle shot. He wanted to try it out so this past Friday morning, early, after he took some Barbados Sheep, to the sale barn, he came by and we went out to my shooting range.

To warm up, we popped some pistol targets then got down to the serious business of the .17 HMR at 100 yards.

Here’s Mickey taking aim.

Forgetting the rifle rest, we tried shooting free hand from 100 yards and hit the target OK,

After I went back and got the rest, Mickey nailed the 3 shot, group, (along the 3:00 o’clock line) below. We covered this group with a nickel and he was very impressed with the little rifle!

You can see his free hand group was about 1-1/2 inches. The picture isn’t upside down, I just pasted a small target over the center of the larger target that Brad and I used on Memorial Day, and, of course, I used duct tape strips to give us a center, reference point.

One of the best things about owning a chunk of land is to be able to do what you want to on it (within the law). Last month, Brad and I built a pistol range right next to our 100/200, yard rifle range and we spent part of Memorial Day afternoon practicing our pistol shooting.

Here, Brad just finished shooting at his last target.

Out of the thick stuff on my ranch, we cleared about a 50’X50’ space that backed up to an old terrace, a relic of the cotton farming days and we use the terrace as a back stop for our bullets. We went to a friend that has a welding shop and had him cut us out some steel targets. Here are 3 targets backed by the terrace.

A closer look at the targets shows that they have a good base, and the impact of the bullet and gravity, bowl over the target and eliminate any danger of a ricochet. You can clearly see where Brad whacked this one with his .45!

When I shoot the targets with my 9mm, sometimes, not falling over, they just make a soft, bong. Brad’s .45 sends them rolling!

Brad shoots in some local, pistol/rifle/shotgun, shoots and uses our new range for practice, but me, I just like to shoot things!

Memorial Day afternoon, on my rifle range, Brad and I sighted in my new, Marlin, .17 HMR rifle. My first 3 shots, at 25 yards, produced this group.

Brad is holding a nickel below the group.

Along with being extremely accurate, the rifle functioned perfectly with no miss fed cartridges and a smooth bolt action!

Brad, pictured, thought the trigger pull was a little firm and my only concern, was loading the small cartridges into the clip. There is no hurrying this step!

Producing these results, we both hammered away at the target from 100 yards, firing 16 rounds. The last 3 shots were dead center in the 2” ring.

To help us sight in the rifle and both being, “good ‘ole boys” we taped thin strips of duct tape across the center of the target. One round hit squarely in the center of the perpendicular strip.

This week, I’ll move back to 200 yards!