So the most recent weekend shooting adventure happened at DM-AFB with my dad. had an optional practice on Saturday Morning so I asked my dad to come with me to the base trap and skeet range to have fun and not really care about anything other then discharging a weapon and having fun. Of course it was another interesting day with a group of somewhat clueless people swinging shotguns around.
Got there before they opened like usual and no one but my dad and I are out there. The two skeet fields are packed with people so we thought we had gotten luck and could goof around shooting by ourselves. That last a whole 3 min before people showed up from no where and started asking two shoot with us, including a 98 year old lady and two Colonel looking guys. Assuming everyone knows what they are doing my dad and I take up station and the others follow in suit. Only at this point do my dad and I realize that the 2 Colonel looking guys have no idea what they are doing. The fact that they were using 20g guns should have been a red flag (real men shoot a 12).
As we get up there these two guys ask what we are supposed to do. At this point I'm in super shooting mode and don't want to take to time explain the rules of the sport other then "Stand there, yell something like "Pull!" and then shoot at the bird." Both the guys nod at me like they are having a seizure. Then they proceed to just lay their shotguns down on the ground, take out some shells of the box, also on the ground and load them into the shotgun. Breaking like 5 ranges laws and one life law that you never become separated from your weapon. At this point if zombies come I would trip these two guys and run. Sorry guys, someone has to be zombie bait.
I forgot the little shell carrier pouch thing for my dad. So like the badass he is, just dumps the shells in his pockets and is ready to go, why the two Colonels couldn't figure out how to use their pockets no one will ever figure out.
After the first round we all go back and regroup, next round up we need a puller and the old lady says she'll do it. So With shotgun in hand I walk over and offer the old lady my arm and walk her out to the stand. Total ladies man that I am. Pretty sure I could have gotten a kiss if I tried, or at least some free cookies. My dad was also laughing at my suave.
We get out on the line and are talking and goofing around for about 45 seconds when the old lady yells "Are you kids gonna shoot or just socialize all day!" That got us down to business.
Overall it was a good day, dropped one bird on every round so no perfects, but still better then most.
Showing posts with label trap. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trap. Show all posts
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
First U of A Shotgun Club Shoot
IInteresting to say the least.
From the beginning lets start with I am not a very sociable person when there is work to be done. Also I am inherently very angry. Ya give me a shotgun!
I showed up at about 1110. "If your early, your on time. If your right on time, your late. If your late, your dead." Semper Fi! Having absolutely no idea what any of my fellow club mates looked like I stared at the Guns for Sale adds and ultimately ending up sitting down in the Club Cafeteria. Time check 1130. Right now the helicopter has already left and everyone is left behind enemy lines (dead)...Except me.
Around 1150 people start to filter in and looking under the age of 80 so I assume they would be people from the club. I go over to the gaggle of them and start making friends. Every one is official enough to have wood stocked Bretta's and such. Glad I kept my guns in the shooting bag. More gaggle and mindless talk about things I have no interest in. around 1245, which is 1 hour and 15 min after I was promised to be blowing stuff up, we get in line to get our range cards and what not. Of course no one at the counter knows what they are doing so another 20 minutes later I have range card and accompanying ammo and guns in hand wandering around looking for friends I made earlier to blow get to the reason I'm here.
Not that I make little nests or anything but when I have a range bag with two guns, more barrels then guns, ammo and what not it's hard to not take up space. Unloading all weapons and ammo onto the "On Deck Shooting" I am ready with two of my newest friends (who have never held a gun before) to get to shooting. Standing there with said friends a man appears and asks if we are ready to shoot. We of course think he is a coach and agree that we are ready and proceed to follow him to the 1st station of the skeet range. Negative ghost rider, we have are suppose to be shooting trap. After informing the gentlemen of this he has what could be related to the adult version of a hissy fit. I believe it went something like this:
"You fucking kids don't know shit"
"Go talk to the front office we are supposed to be shooting here"
Mumbling and walking to the front office he appears to realize I am aware of what is going on.
He walks back: "Well thank you for conning me into waste a whole round of skeet"
"Why don't you just ask them to give you another round and say you messed up"
"I never messed up they just dunno what to do with you damn hooligans"
To my new friends, thanks for doing the ostrich thing and sticking your head in the Trap house and acting like you don't know me.
Packing up my stuff to go find new friends I walk down the range to the very and and see other people I had previously be friended and unpack there and we have a grand time shooting.
Round one over, more talking ensues. Damit. Blah blah blah no one cares can we go shoot.
Fast forward to round 2 (two). Semi attractive girl says something un-intelligible to me since I am wildly throwing ammo in all pockets on my person since I have no snazzy vest. we all walk out there and her Mom is standing right next to her. Again, no one cares, just let me blow shit up. go through first 2 stations with a 100% hit ratio. people are mumbling down the range as my new best friend and I make jokes at each other about how incredibly awesome we are. NEXT THING I KNOW I hear the moms voice "PU...BAM" And then the wind is knocked out of me and I'm coughing more now then before since I was already sick. At first thought I was under the impression I got shot. Then I quickly process that no one is that stupid to shot me and it would probably hurt alot more. I look over at me new best friend whom is now freaking out about something. Situational awareness not so high. I look down and on the ground are alot of little shot pellets laying all around me and new best friend. Everyone else is going bat shit crazy as they run over to us. Apparently someone had never fired a gun before (the Mom) and shot the little brick structure that shoots the clay pigeons out. Paint and the big sign that identifies the brick structure is all gone. Yes it will fly back at the opposing angle that you shot it at and that just happened to be where my friend and I were standing.
After affirming my well being to everyone we continue shooting. Minus the mother of course.
After said round we talk to mom and informed her that you must not get to excited and shoot people. She is EXTREMELY receptive to the information.
Next round we try this shin-dig again. The mom switches off and this time, said friend and I are very far away. Her daughter helps her put the shell in the gun and then smartly basically sprinted away. Many things in life, when your life is in very immediate danger you see them in slow motion. Well I see her finger near the trigger and then I see the other hand go for the action to lock and load the weapon. I turn away (the thought of diving crossed my mind but I had my dads shotgun in my paws and (Love you dad) decided that the well being of his gun was more important then my own) The breech could bee seen closing and then I lost sight as I spun around and cover my dads gun (much love STILL). open my eyes after the BOOM to the huge cloud of concrete/cement dust and a gun just laying on the ground. Honestly part of my mind was like if you just blew both your feet off, you learn a very valuable lesson in the operation of a shotgun. Luckily for all parties involved she was still upright and once again going bat shit crazy.
Shotgun promptly taken away and given to younger girl and resume shooting. Much less eventful.
After round is over more talking. Damn times 2. After I somewhat tune in I hear people talking about the Olympian Trap Double, God Among Men, Birds Destroyer, Special range at the very end. I offer my two cents that I would shoot another round with some of these incredibly dangerous people.
Break this down. 5 stations with a bird shooter at each station. You shoot once move down. So of the five clay pigeon shooters it can shoot the clay pigeon in 3 different directions, Left Center, Right and it will shoot them either Low, Normal, or extremely High. It shoots the pigeon out 4 times faster and twice as far. which in my mind is 3 directions times 3 heights times 4 times faster times 2 times as far so that makes this 72 times more challenging then Trap. Challenge Accepted.
You get two shots per clay pigeon so in reality it is only 36 times as hard, but that is a technicality.
Everyone has either Over-under or Semi-Auto Shotguns. Mr. Brian "Badass" Popelas has his pump action. Many people told me I would not hit anything let alone be fast enough to get a second shot off with the pump action. Challenge Accepted.
Once standing on the range, I must say those little bastards move VERY fast. Well after many uneventful shots I scored a denigration hit on a bird right out of the house.
What is Kill? Suck it Trebek.
Many more shots later I start using both rounds. I impressed my self at the speed I can pump the action and squeeze round two off. which means many of the "wanna be pros" were being instructed by yours truly to pick their jaw up off the ground. Get some.
Total hit 11 birds. How many I actually had a chance at I have no idea. although with not so great ear protection on a shotgun made to shoot people in very close quarters, My brain was very sloshy in my skull and I had a massive Migraine. But I proved my man hood to all present and one guy actually said he was sorry for doubting me...lets bask in that for a second...If only I would have been cool enough to pat him on the shoulder as I walked by and said, don't worry it's OK, I understand I have more talent then you.
After that I shook hands and played nice with everyone long enough to make me exit in night rider at close to 7000RPM's in first gear. Thats how I roll. Be Jealous.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Old Folk vs Young Hooligans
I found myself at the Base Shotgun range again this weekend. Little did I know that the that the shotgun club on the base appeared to be just as bad as the Tucson Trap and Skeet Club. As my dad and I roll up on scene we only see three field to shoot on and all are full. Nightmare. Not that I don't like shooting with people, I just prefer to do it by myself, especially since I have a quite controversial gun and I'm not that good at it since I started the whole trap and Skeet thing 6weeks ago. To make matter worse, there is only one Trap field, which has a full party shooting and more people waiting to shoot.
After we go through the hassle of figuring out where to buy the rounds at and all the stupid safety questions by the people working the booth (Yes I do actually know where the danger end is!), we go over to the Trap field and try to make some friends.
Surprisingly most of the people didn't need their walkers to walk to the shooting stations. And most of them were fairly easy to talk to once you dropped in on whatever they were talking about.
After talking to the "Gentlemens Club" (and thats not because they were young whippersnappers who chased after women) we went back to our truck to pull out our two shotguns. Given that I have a shotgun made for killing people in tiny rooms and my dads is actually semi made for this sport, most of them flocked to look at my gun and proceed to inform me that "You won't be hitting shit with that." I was walking back to the truck to get ammo when I heard this. Since this is my new baby I turn around to see who is so incredibly doubtful of my skills...CAPTAIN AMERICA, in the flesh, minus American Flag headband. I thought of many quick comebacks to say such as "are you really talking to the guy whose shotgun is made to kill people" or "Ya grab your walker old man I'll see you on the field" I remembered that my dad was within earshot and would promptly shoot me with my own shotgun if I said that, so I said nothing and walked back to the truck.
After figuring out who is doing what I snatch up my dads shotgun and head out with for the first round. Of course being so incredibly new to this whole game I am shoving ammo in every pocket in my jacket since I have no snazzy vest thing or hip holster like everyone else does, and the old men are now waiting on me... embarrassing.
Of the 5 shooting stations the first four are taken, I'll shoot last since I am not given an option. Heading out there and fussing in my pockets for shells while people starting yelling variation of Pull (you yell PULL and the guy pressing the button which causes the machine to fire out the clay pigeon). these variations in "PULL" to "PUUUAAAAAAAAAA" and the funniest of the group "PUUUUUUUU." So after hearing all these I probably have the stupidest look on my face as the entire "Gentlemens Club" stares at me. PULL! BOOM! Vaporized that little clay bastard. Touche Gentlemen.
25 Birds in a round and 5 shooting stations. Shoot five birds and move to the next station.
After the first two stations and 100 percent hit rate. I move to the third station and fucked it all up. Missed 4 out of 5 on this station. But I can see that I already showed them what a Boss I am. In the end of round 1 I was 17 out of 25. Not to bad for being pretty damn sick, tired and coughing like I have been smoking for 80 years.
Round two was 19 our of 25.
After this round everyone left except one guy who was clearly a pro. So pro that he had ear protection that connected to his Ipod which he kept in one of his many pockets in his fancy shooting vest, purple glasses, and some weird shell holder that looked like he could take on most of the world in a zombie invasion. He had been talking to my dad while I was out on the field. they were basically Best Friends for Life (BFFL) at this point.
He offered two be the Puller (guy who pushes button) for a round while my dad and I shoot against each other if we pull one for him. Of course we agreed.
On said round I shot a solid 7 out of 25 with my shotgun designed for people while my dad did much better. I blame this drop in accuracy as to shooting a different gun without warm up.
We pull one for him and he actually let me shoot his (at least) 3,000 dollar gun for his last two birds. He gave me three rounds. As he was yelling at me about how he loaded these shells himself and since I had ear protection on and didn't fully understand how to work said weapon, the only words I picked up from his rant were "BIG" and "RECOIL." I put those two words together with the full understanding when I pull the trigger I'm going to blow my shoulder off and drop his gun. So here we go, PULL! boom! Ya it was like shooting the bolt action .22 we have. So with my ridiculous flinch I wildly missed the bird. "YOU MISSED IT!" In my head I'm saying "Thanks boss, I noticed." As he hands me round number two and I fumble it into the gun he says "IT"S NOT GONNA HURT AT ALL SON" Once again in my head "Thanks, I'm aware."
I vaporized the next two. Always end it on a good note.
Point here is Old people don't think the young kids know what they are doing. Boy did I show them wrong. Minus the one round were I was at a 28 percent hit ratio...Glad I get to work on that this Saturday.
After we go through the hassle of figuring out where to buy the rounds at and all the stupid safety questions by the people working the booth (Yes I do actually know where the danger end is!), we go over to the Trap field and try to make some friends.
Surprisingly most of the people didn't need their walkers to walk to the shooting stations. And most of them were fairly easy to talk to once you dropped in on whatever they were talking about.
After talking to the "Gentlemens Club" (and thats not because they were young whippersnappers who chased after women) we went back to our truck to pull out our two shotguns. Given that I have a shotgun made for killing people in tiny rooms and my dads is actually semi made for this sport, most of them flocked to look at my gun and proceed to inform me that "You won't be hitting shit with that." I was walking back to the truck to get ammo when I heard this. Since this is my new baby I turn around to see who is so incredibly doubtful of my skills...CAPTAIN AMERICA, in the flesh, minus American Flag headband. I thought of many quick comebacks to say such as "are you really talking to the guy whose shotgun is made to kill people" or "Ya grab your walker old man I'll see you on the field" I remembered that my dad was within earshot and would promptly shoot me with my own shotgun if I said that, so I said nothing and walked back to the truck.
After figuring out who is doing what I snatch up my dads shotgun and head out with for the first round. Of course being so incredibly new to this whole game I am shoving ammo in every pocket in my jacket since I have no snazzy vest thing or hip holster like everyone else does, and the old men are now waiting on me... embarrassing.
Of the 5 shooting stations the first four are taken, I'll shoot last since I am not given an option. Heading out there and fussing in my pockets for shells while people starting yelling variation of Pull (you yell PULL and the guy pressing the button which causes the machine to fire out the clay pigeon). these variations in "PULL" to "PUUUAAAAAAAAAA" and the funniest of the group "PUUUUUUUU." So after hearing all these I probably have the stupidest look on my face as the entire "Gentlemens Club" stares at me. PULL! BOOM! Vaporized that little clay bastard. Touche Gentlemen.
25 Birds in a round and 5 shooting stations. Shoot five birds and move to the next station.
After the first two stations and 100 percent hit rate. I move to the third station and fucked it all up. Missed 4 out of 5 on this station. But I can see that I already showed them what a Boss I am. In the end of round 1 I was 17 out of 25. Not to bad for being pretty damn sick, tired and coughing like I have been smoking for 80 years.
Round two was 19 our of 25.
After this round everyone left except one guy who was clearly a pro. So pro that he had ear protection that connected to his Ipod which he kept in one of his many pockets in his fancy shooting vest, purple glasses, and some weird shell holder that looked like he could take on most of the world in a zombie invasion. He had been talking to my dad while I was out on the field. they were basically Best Friends for Life (BFFL) at this point.
He offered two be the Puller (guy who pushes button) for a round while my dad and I shoot against each other if we pull one for him. Of course we agreed.
On said round I shot a solid 7 out of 25 with my shotgun designed for people while my dad did much better. I blame this drop in accuracy as to shooting a different gun without warm up.
We pull one for him and he actually let me shoot his (at least) 3,000 dollar gun for his last two birds. He gave me three rounds. As he was yelling at me about how he loaded these shells himself and since I had ear protection on and didn't fully understand how to work said weapon, the only words I picked up from his rant were "BIG" and "RECOIL." I put those two words together with the full understanding when I pull the trigger I'm going to blow my shoulder off and drop his gun. So here we go, PULL! boom! Ya it was like shooting the bolt action .22 we have. So with my ridiculous flinch I wildly missed the bird. "YOU MISSED IT!" In my head I'm saying "Thanks boss, I noticed." As he hands me round number two and I fumble it into the gun he says "IT"S NOT GONNA HURT AT ALL SON" Once again in my head "Thanks, I'm aware."
I vaporized the next two. Always end it on a good note.
Point here is Old people don't think the young kids know what they are doing. Boy did I show them wrong. Minus the one round were I was at a 28 percent hit ratio...Glad I get to work on that this Saturday.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Professionals versus the Weekend Hobbyist
So in all things in life there are three groups of people. The Professionals, the wanna-be Professionals, and the Weekenders.
Break it down:
The Professionals are always really nice and try to help the Weekenders.
The Wanna-be Professionals take shit way to seriously and turn everything into competition.
Weekenders, like me, are out there to have a good time and enjoy the sport.
What brought me to this conclusion was one weekend out with my Dad at the local Trap and Skeet club we ran into a Wanna-Be Professional. We were shooting Trap which is were you go out to the stand and yell "PULL" and the little orange clay bird shooting out and you blow it out of the sky. On the "Field" there are five stations so in a actual competition 5 people compete against each other. Well on a Sunday morning we had Father-Son time instead of church we went shooting.
Out on the range, got through a few rounds and this guy comes up to join us on the field, nothing wrong with that I mean it is a easy way to make friends. So he looks like he is pretty serious about the sport. He has a full shooting vest and shooting glasses and special boots and a gun that looks like it is worth more then my car.
On top of it all he has a American flag headband/dewrag on. Hello Captain America.
He seemed nice at first, he came up and politely asked if he could shoot with us. my dad and I look like we need help so out of 40 open ranges I don't know why he chose us but he did and we were nice people so we didn't turn him away.
The second we stepped up to the shooting boxes it was over. He was breaking our spirit and rubbing it in our face after every shot. since you have to pre pay by the round so we have 2 rounds to finish with Captain America before we can make our subtle exit. After two more embarrassing round Captain America asks if we are leaving (we already put the gun away in the case and have no ammo left). We tell him yes we are leaving and then walk to the club house to tell them we are finished. On the way back to the truck we pass Captain America for the last time. He had taken all of his stuff and found another range with a older guy on it, who was all by himself, until Captain America started harassing him.
I feel sorry for people that need competition to make themselves feel better. Maybe Next time I run into Captain America I will be able to destroy his will to ever shoot against me again.
Break it down:
The Professionals are always really nice and try to help the Weekenders.
The Wanna-be Professionals take shit way to seriously and turn everything into competition.
Weekenders, like me, are out there to have a good time and enjoy the sport.
What brought me to this conclusion was one weekend out with my Dad at the local Trap and Skeet club we ran into a Wanna-Be Professional. We were shooting Trap which is were you go out to the stand and yell "PULL" and the little orange clay bird shooting out and you blow it out of the sky. On the "Field" there are five stations so in a actual competition 5 people compete against each other. Well on a Sunday morning we had Father-Son time instead of church we went shooting.
 |
| My Dad and I on the range |
Out on the range, got through a few rounds and this guy comes up to join us on the field, nothing wrong with that I mean it is a easy way to make friends. So he looks like he is pretty serious about the sport. He has a full shooting vest and shooting glasses and special boots and a gun that looks like it is worth more then my car.
On top of it all he has a American flag headband/dewrag on. Hello Captain America.
He seemed nice at first, he came up and politely asked if he could shoot with us. my dad and I look like we need help so out of 40 open ranges I don't know why he chose us but he did and we were nice people so we didn't turn him away.
The second we stepped up to the shooting boxes it was over. He was breaking our spirit and rubbing it in our face after every shot. since you have to pre pay by the round so we have 2 rounds to finish with Captain America before we can make our subtle exit. After two more embarrassing round Captain America asks if we are leaving (we already put the gun away in the case and have no ammo left). We tell him yes we are leaving and then walk to the club house to tell them we are finished. On the way back to the truck we pass Captain America for the last time. He had taken all of his stuff and found another range with a older guy on it, who was all by himself, until Captain America started harassing him.
I feel sorry for people that need competition to make themselves feel better. Maybe Next time I run into Captain America I will be able to destroy his will to ever shoot against me again.
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| My dad rocking the shit out of some clay pigeons! |
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