I have always had some friends who enjoyed shooting for fun like I used to do and would like to do more.  But for a variety of reasons such activities get edged out these days. I would call them up and say, “Hey, why don’t we get together and go shoot some bullets?”, and they would say, “Hey, that sounds like a good idea”.  And so it went.

However, there are other shooters with whom I would not want to be in the same bar, or convenience store.  These people are dark souls, whose core values are defined in terms of stopping power, penetration, magazine capacity, concealed cary permits, their God given (they say constitutional) right to wear their guns to their local Baptist church and a growing list of undesirable types they’d be happy to have in their sights.  These are wannabe killers.

To be fair, you’d have to be brain dead to have missed my own red squirrel vendetta and my Bird Feeder Protection Administration (BFPA) arsenal consisting of a break barrel pellet gun with a muzzle velocity of 1000 fps, and my pride and joy, a Marlin Model 39-A 22 cal. lever action high capacity combat piece.

The local bird people frown on my BFPA activities much in the same way that I question the legitimacy of the afore mentioned dark side gunners, and this does give me some pause.

I grew up shooting.  My prize for graduating to the second grade was a $6 Winchester single shot that I fairly wore out in my youth. It did not come with ear protection, a rarity in those days, and is likely the reason I am presently stone deaf.  Shooting was as natural a thing as chewing Chiclets or whacking off.  I haven’t had a Chicklet in a long time.

The squirrel population around here is on the rise, due primarily to a winter hiatus of BFPA activities.  Household politics notwithstanding, some red squirrel population reduction activities may resume in the spring.  I take no great pleasure in that prospect.  What’s that song – “The Thrill is Gone”? 

My father used to brag on my marksmanship. Perhaps it might have been better for my struggling adolescent development to praise my penmanship.  But there’s something about, “Hey, why don’t we get together and write something”, that would not have sounded like a call to arms.  We’ll never know.

1 Comment

  1. Sorry to here about the Chicklet’s.

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