This topic contains 20 replies, has 9 voices, and was last updated by  lead-1 1 year, 2 months ago.

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  • #68734
     Goodsteel 
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    Seargent Mike was over at the shop last night, and we wound up under the awning outside the shop talking. At a certain point, I asked him what’s the most amazing hail marry shot he ever made. Group size and science be damned, “what happened when it all happened right?”.

    He told me a few amazing stories and I told a few which I’ll write down below.

    What was yours? What was that shot that just fires off goosbumps on your arms thinking about it? After all, that’s a really big part of why we do what we do.

    Here’s a few of my stories: Enjoy.

    Crossed arrows:

    It was a beautiful fall day in Fayetteville Arkansas. The venue was a local archery tournament sponsored by Arvest bank and there was a pretty impressive turnout. I was there just to have a good time and see if I saw any familiar faces. My bow was a PSA Nitro Express. It had been stolen from my apartment the previous Christmas. The thieves had broken into my home and stolen a lot of precious things, including my competition bow, case, arrows, stabilizers and all. Fortunately they were high as a kite at the time, and managed to leave some things that were irreplaceable like my JM pre-safety 336 my father had given to me.

    After the breakin, I started casing the local pawn shops looking for my property, and I found my bow. The cops told me that I could wait for the thieves to be prosecuted, or I could buy my bow back from the Pawn shop for what they gave for it. Eventually, I’d given up hope of justice being served, and just three days before the competition mentioned above, I bought my property back.

    So, there I was at the competition with my fresh out of jail bow and a dozen fresh arrows made by my fletcher especially to my requirements. The style of shooting was 3D popup and moving targets, but being inside the city limits, there were strict rules about where and when you could shoot and pegs were staked for the archer to stand at and poles that the archer must send his arrows through. Any miss would disqualify the shooter and he would be asked to leave.

    One of the targets was a moving bear that ran around in a 12′ circle. There was a peg at about 2:00 on the circle, and another at about 10:00. The archer had to make his shot between those two pegs. As I stood in line, my snarky nature was buzzing, and I watched the shooters methodically shoot the bear at 12:00 when it was perfectly square to them, and well within the boundaries. As the three shooters ahead of me each took their turn I was watching the bear and observing carefully as it crossed the first peg, the shot was released and then crossed the second peg.

    My turn finally arrived and I slid a carbon Express shaft into place, and clipped on my trusty Fletchhunter trigger release. The guy driving (and judging) the target told me to just say when I’m ready. “Roll it” I said and the bear began it’s quick run around the track. Up came the bow, the feather touched my lip, the 12 ring crossed the first peg and my arrow sank into it. Time slowed down. I pulled a second arrow and slipped it into place. I heard the wheels on the track which previously seemed to sound like a bowling ball rolling down the lane now seemed like an old woman churning butter. Up came the bow, and I watched with interest as my second arrow twisted into the 12 ring, splitting my first shaft about 1/2″ away from the side of the target, just inches before it crossed the second peg. You could push a pen into the triangle created by the arrows and the target and it would stay.

    The guy running the target stood up and said “Sweet Jesus!!! Get that news crew over here!!!!”.

    So I got my picture in the paper holding up my crossed arrows.

    Once the news crew had left, the guy running the target was congratulating me on “one hell of a lucky shot”. I looked him dead in the eye and said “that wasn’t a lucky shot bud”. He raised his eyebrows and said “Seriously? You think you can do that again?” I said “Of course. Roll it again and I’ll show you”.

    He looked over my shoulder and asked the fellers behind me if anybody minded if I try that one more time. Everybody wanted to see it again, so I stepped up to the line. The second time around, I literally put my arrows through the same holes that had been occupied by my previous shots. I didn’t quite split the first arrow with the second though. It was sure enough ruined, but the carbon didn’t close over the shaft of the second arrow, so it wasn’t perfect. Everybody was impressed nonetheless however.

    The guy running the target was just shaking his head as I pulled my arrows. Being snarky fellow back then, I said “Yep, you’re right. I didn’t quite split that first arrow. Guess it was a lucky shot afterall.”

     

  • #68736
     Goodsteel 
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    M1A at 400 yards:

    I was out with my buddy JT shooting in a field we call the “field of dreams” so called for it’s low location and rimmed by thick pines that render 600 yards of very low wind.

    We had been shooting at 600 yards with our precision rifles and enjoying ringing steel manhole covers. The plates had gotten pretty covered with lead splatter, and it was becoming difficult to spot the hits, so we drove forward to paint. It was a little hot that day, but the sultry heat from the still air didn’t bother us much as we had a cooler of Gatorade and water etc.

    The previous weekend, we had run into a strange character out there who claimed he was renting the property and was going to be running cattle there and didn’t care for two yay-who’s banging away with high power rifles across “his” field. We found this very interesting because we know the landowner very well and he had said nothing of the sort at any time. The physical condition of this individual was such that we suspected he was using meth, or some other drug that presents similar effects on the face and mannerisms of its user. He was obviously armed as well, so on this occasion, I made sure the M1A scout was with me in case he decided to show up again. After all, I strongly believe noone would be foolish enough to fool with me at any time, but the M1A is a bonafide guarantee to that effect. As long as the bible is in my pocket, Jesus is in my heart, and Springfield is in my hand, fear does not exist.

    So we had painted the targets and driven back to 400 yards. JT asked me if I’d like to take a shot with the M1A before the gongs get marked up. I agreed, and pulled the rifle from the seat of the truck. I put my arm through the sling, and hammered down the frog on the crook of my arm, dialed on 400 yards, then rolled the gun up into my shoulder. The finest sights mankind has ever devised swept into my field of view. I set my feet, took a few controlled breaths and tucked in tight.  The sights still had enough smoke on them to get a sharp picture. The wind was non-existant. Sweat and dust was on my arms. The trigger felt right as I loaded up the first stage and began my squeeze. My torso rocked slightly as the rifle coughed, and I saw the plate swing before I was satisfied with the sound of the gong returning to me. JT was watching through the spotting scope and said “You asshole.” I smiled and asked him “what seems to be the problem?”. He replied “You *%&$ing drilled it 2″ above dead center! What do you sleep with that thing?”. I laughed and said “Hey, when you’re “on” your “on”. He said “Yeah, well if you’re so “on” how about doing it again?” I chuckled and said “Nope!!! That’s enough!!!” and we had a good laugh.

    The truth is, I know that rifle like the back of my hand, and at that range the group diameter for ten shots is exactly the size of a dollar bill. The load is 42 grains of IMR4895 over a 168 grain SMK, LC match brass and a CCI primer. 1.4MOA all day long with the battle sights which aint too shabby in my book. So it was definitely a lucky shot, but one I’ll never forget.

  • #68737
     Goodsteel 
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    Last minute buck:

    2011. What a hunting year that was for me!!! I had always wanted to make my own recurve bow and take a deer with it, so I decided to finally make it happen. I designed the bow and made it from scratch including the string, arrows, and broadheads.

    I also had in mind to take a deer with cast bullets which I had never done before, in spite of the fact that I had been casting and shooting them for nearly two decades at that point.

    The first deer of the season fell to the bow, which was everything I always dreamed it would be. The second deer was taken with the muzzle loader and I discovered in one shot just how effective cast bullets are at taking deer down in their tracks (Lee 452RN tumble lube pistol bullet, 20% tin, 80%lead in a TC sabot, 100 grains of FFG).

    The third deer was the one that sticks in my memory so well.

    It was the last hour of the last day, of the last season in Arkansas where you could harvest a deer with a centerfire rifle. It was also my birthday.  I was toting my trusty Remington 700 in 300 Winmag and had just about written the season off as a success except for not having taken a deer with a rifle. I had been hunting hard in lots of new places but had totally struck out. Other than the deer I had taken with bow and muzzle loader, I had not seen a deer that year at all.

    It was cold that day, and I had been standing all afternoon slipping from place to place and waiting for deer to show up, but no luck was had, and eventually I found myself on a power line easement at the top of a hill. It was overcast, and getting colder by the minute. My feet were sore from standing, my arms from holding my rifle, and my back from a combination of the two. It was in my mind that I just had to hold on for 15 more minutes and this hunting season would be effectively over for me. I remember I was watching the power lines overhead and could see the water droplets that had melted during the day, were starting to freeze over again. The weather is always strange in Arkansas in December. During the day, you’ll be peeling off layers when it warms up to 50-60 degrees, and then at night it dips below freezing. I was reminiscing about other late December days I remember being like this one, when my eye caught movement further down the easement. It was getting dark and I was searching for what I had seen, but judging by the quickened pace of my heart, I knew it must have been a deer. Suddenly I realized the deer was in plain sight smack dab in the middle of the easement about 300 yards away down in the valley sprawling in front of me. The terrain surrounding me, and the clock ticking away the last seconds of legal hunting time, coupled with the quickly fading light meant that I could not take a rest nor find a place to do so. I had to make the shot immediately, and I had to do it from the standing position.

    I pulled in a breath and steadied my nerves. I shuffled my feet to find stable ground, wrapped the sling around my arm and tucked in tight. I let out some air and settled the crosshairs on the deer’s backbone. I knew that my bullet would drop 6″ at this range, shooting flat, but slightly less shooting downhill like this, so I split the difference. My finger tightened on the trigger and suddenly everything turned orange as the recoil jerked me back (78 grains of IMR 7828SSC sure makes a fireball from a 24″ barrel). I had figured the Sierra 165 Gameking would work really well in this situation and the results proved my theory to be spot on. I came back down on target from the recoil and saw the deer spin around three times, then collapse in his tracks.

    A few minutes later, my brother in law arrived with the four wheeler and helped me recover the buck. He said looks like you got a couple birthday presents brother”.  “Hows that?” I asked him. “well” he said “for one thing, you just got a deer, but for another, you got a deer with each method  this year. If you send in your tags, you get the triple trophy!” (the “triple trophy” is a special program that is done in Arkansas, where if you manage to harvest deer with bow, muzzle loader, and modern rifle, you get a signed letter from the commissioner and a hat pin etc etc.)

    That was one of my greatest hunting years, and the triple trophy pin remains affixed to the front of my hat (its just out of view in the picture at the top of the forum) and one shot brought it all together.

    Some folks wonder why I fuss over my loads so much, but the truth is, you never know which one of them is going to be the shot you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

  • #68739
     redriverhunter 
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    My epic-shot was 5 to 7 years ago maybe more. I was deer hunting at the river and in some spots in the river you could take a shot at well over two thousand yards. Knowing my own limitation and armed with a Ruger M77 MKII .270 with a 130 grain bullet (don’t remember the manufacture but I betting Hornady lead tip) and full load of h-4831 (don’t remember the load most likely near max).
    I was laying down on the ground, looking down stream because the deer sometimes cross there. All of the sudden a sounder of feral hogs came out and was crossing the river. I was not sure how far they were but I know they were more than a hundred yards, and my rifle was shooting about and 1.5 inches high at at a 100. I had read once, in one of Jack O’Conner’s book to put the horizontal cross hairs on the back of the animal and that is what I did. The hogs were trotting across the river so I waited till the nose of the hog touched the vertical cross hair, I squeezed off a round and everything went as planned. The river where I hunt is kind of like a little valley and you can hear the bullets travel I also heard the bullet impact the hog. I have not thought of this hunt in a long time. It is the most memorable shots and I don’t know that I could repeat it. I will attribute this shot to some skill and some luck.

  • #68740
     Harter 
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    3 hunts will always stand out for me , the first take , the frozen pudding , and the eye juggle . Only the first one this time around .

    I was about 14 , 3rd season .
    It was a cool November morning and Dad and I had driven up into the head of a canyon at about 8500′ and hiked another half mile as it was getting good and light . The hike took us out the top of the tree line on the shady side of the ridge . We spotted the canyon and the big bowl we had skirtted getting to the top . I don’t remember it being especially cold but it was the first time I had warm boots and they were noisy on the bare granite . Pacs are like that , I did tie up the zipper so no jingle .
    After the zero contacts in 2 canyons we worked the knob an got caught between any cover by a pre or very post rut herd of a dozen or so 5 bucks 7-8 does ….. We we’re probably about 9200′ and there’s just nothing but white weathered granite oval flag stone and boulders . This herd broke the ridge in the saddle about 550 yd so we waited them out to cross a feature to give us a break . We hoofed it back 100 yd behind a boulder line just under the knob . That let us keep the ridge between us and them and the wind favored us . So we booked it down to about where the big boulders ran out on the saddle . The herd was settling down in the afternoon sun looking for the the swirl in the wind about 50 yd over the saddle . We gained about 250 yd and worked into the lower boulder pile . We were out of cover and fortunately still out of the wind . Dad put on his 700 BDL bull barreled 25-06′ and the big boulder . The focus range finder was useless because of sun and angle and wouldn’t have done me any good anyway not knowing what I was looking at anyway . Dad coached me through the shot 340-65 yd and the wind . “Pick one . Tell me which one” , ok the the guy out on the upper left side , he’s alone but not the biggest . ” Ok he’s a good one . Put the horizontal on top of his shoulder . Hold the thin part of the wire about a width in front of his shoulder.”
    The boulder was a 10,000 lb rest with about an 8′ radius on top . I remember being really fixed on getting the sling under the stock so the granite didn’t shread the walnut or rock around on the sling stud . Once on him and set up the squeeze lasted forever on the 3# target shoed trigger . Safe off and squeeze again . Boom back on him before his head hit the ground ……
    After a few very tense minutes while the herd scattered , we discovered that there was a shear in the saddle ….. 350 yd neck shot and 3″ below the point of hold . It was a beautiful day early in the day about 2:30 and only about 1.7 miles back to the truck .

  • #68741
     popper 
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    MOA 3 shots @ 200 with cast AR10 was pretty exciting.

    Sitting under a mesquite tree line, 20ga in my lap, +/- 45* FOV with dead sunflower patch in front.  Hear a couple bangs from my buddy 100 yds to the right.   Flash of dove screaming in 5′ above the deck, 10 yds out.  Bag it about 15* left of center.  Didn’t think this old guy could move so fast.

    First try at running pig. 2 misses, I didn’t really aim, dirt hit behind.  Saw dust puff off the hiney on 3rd, ~25 yds, XD40, 165gr cast.  2 more (misses trying to adjust for distance) as he was still going.

    The congrats from buddy who is a long time hunter (I’m not much of one) felt pretty good.

     

  • #68753
     Jniedbalski 
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    When I was around 14 or so I went out behind the house with dads 16 gauge walked about a mile and finally found a loan rabbit about 30 35 yards away just standing there.It was a long shot but I lined the sites up and took the shot . I was using dads bolt action 16 ga with a two round mag and adj choak on it adj to full choak.It fell over dead. I walked up to the rabbit and there was no blood any where. I wondered did it die from shock? Got it home to clean it and looked it over good no shot any where in the body . I could find only one pellet that went in on the side of the eye and entered the brain. I killed this rabbit with only one shot pellet to the eye, almost a compleat miss .

  • #68759
     Goodsteel 
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    1911 compact vs light bulb…….at 100 yards:

    When I moved the shop to the new location, I had gotten everything in place including the machinery, but no juice for the machines. The whole shop was wired for 110, but the machines run on a variable frequency drive which is fed by 220 single phase. The move sapped all my resources, so I was left praying for somebody who knows electricity to come help me wire up the most important part of the shop. About the time I got the benches set and all the tools in place, I got a call from a guy named Rick who said he had a bolt action rifle project in mind, and had heard MBT was the best. I told him the targets speak for themselves but I’m right in the middle of a move and I’m still getting the electricity lined out. Turned out he was a licensed electrician (retired, but still certified) and didn’t mind barter.

    While he wired the shop, the stockpiles of lead came up in conversation and I explained what exactly could be done with cast bullets when made correctly. I suppose I sparked his curiosity, because it wasn’t long and he was asking how to cast bullets. I explained the process, but offered him a large supply of bullets I had cast for the 1911 from House alloy. Pretty soon he was enjoying the benefits of excellent cast bullets fitted to his barrel. I also did a trigger job for him and made some customization to the grips and safeties for him to suite his style, and soon he was shooting one ragged hole at 30 paces.

    One Sunday afternoon, Rick was over and we were shooting and having a great time, and I could tell he was “ON” because he was picking off empty shotgun shells at 30 yards and he seemed to have lost the ability to miss. I suggested he try to hit something further out and drew his attention to the LED spot light I had pointed at the 100 yard target. It was dysfunctional, and later that day, I was going to rework the lighting out there anyway, so the plastic bulb was fair game. I told him to aim “so high” with a hand gesture. I got on the spotting scope and he squeezed off the first shot which impacted 1.5″ low and I called it as such. He said “OK” and began his second trigger squeeze. The gun barked, the bulb shattered, and a piece of aluminum from inside the bulb went spinning off behind the 100 yard target (later inspection proved this to be the reflector from inside the bulb with a bullet hole within 1″ of dead center). I let out a whoop and a holler. That was truly one of the finest shots I’ve ever seen demonstrated with a 1911.

    Needless to say, he’s hooked on cast bullets now.

     

  • #68764
     kens 
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    Mine was with a military mauser, 7mm with the long 29″ barrel, it was on the LGS rack alongside many other mausers/enfields and so on. This had a pristine bore and nice wood, I took it home for $169 in it’s day.

    My buddie had just got his pride of a Rem700/stainless/hightech stock/Leupold goldrings scope/bipod/uber magnum/et al. He was hungry to beat me on long range shooting with his new pride rifle. (we shot together many times before) We had a 2litre soda bottle of water hung out at 265 yards and I already had my mauser dialed in previously. He was in prone with his bipod, and I was on a makeshift bench. The angle of the sun was just perfect, the 2lite bottle was standing nicely on top of my front sight. I was in position with one eye on my sight and the other on him. I saw him fidget with the bipod, then fidget the scope, then fidget his position. All the while I was already setup with the mauser first stage taken up. I finally saw him go to the trigger as if to take up a first stage, I know he had the scope on high power on that bottle,,,,,,thats when I uncorked the mauser.  BLAMMO……he got a hi-power view of that bottle blowing up. It was the one and only bottle we had that day and Oh Boy was he hungry to get it, especially with his brandnew $1500 setup. I stood up, hold my rifle up high and proclaim “I got this rifle for $169 at Juniors gun shop!!!”  Gosh was he pissed. His fancy Rem700 just got shut down.

  • #68765
     Goodsteel 
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    LOL!!!! That’s a good one Kens!!! Good shooting. Dam fine shooting.

  • #68766
     Goodsteel 
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    The green bottle cap:

    This next story has gotten me a few looks that make it obvious the hearer doesn’t believe a dam word of it. However, if you’ll bring your happy self by the shop, I’ll shake your hand, look you dead in the eye over the tops of my glasses, and swear on my honor I actually saw this happen…….

    I was going fishing with some new friends of mine. Old Joe Kelly and his son who was my age (about 22 years old). Old Joe was in his 80s. Interesting old man. He was a mason by trade and had built his entire home with hand cut sandstone, and it was rumored that he had played with Johnny Cash back in the day. I remember remarking about how the face of his walls were perfectly flat, and all the joints to the stones, though odd and random in shape, were exactly 1/2″ wide just as you would expect between red bricks. I asked how in the world he found flags so perfectly fit together (I grew up in a rock house myself and the walls varied in thickness by as much as 2″ and the joints were anywhere from nothing to 1.5″ so this looked like magic). He explained that he cut each stone to fit (which impressed the hell out of me). He later showed me how to cut stone with ancient tools, but that’s another story.

    Well, one day, we all decided to go fishing on Lake Wilson just outside of Fayetteville Arkansas. Old Joe popped the lid on his tackle box and I couldn’t help taking a look to see what the old man had in there. I saw the usual stuff: hooks, bobbers, a stringer, couple of jigs, a crank bait or two, a handfull of steel knockout slugs and a beanflip…….

    Seeing what I considered a child’s toy, I asked the obvious question “Mr. Kelley, why do you have a bean flip in your tackle box?” (for those of you who might be unfamiliar, a bean flip (sometimes misnamed as a slingshot or wrist rocket) is a forked stick with bands of rubber connected to a leather pouch used to shoot rocks etc in the general direction of a pop can etc etc). He said “oh, I keep it in there for shooting snakes and sich”. I replied “you can hit a snake with that? You mean you shoot in amongst them and scare them off?”. He gave me a level look and said “I hit ’em in the head and kill ’em every time.”

    Being young and knowing more about ballistics than most men alive and certainly more than I know now, I must have inadvertently given a “whatever” sort of look, because the old man called to Joe jr. and said “Hey Joe, this young feller needs a demonstration. Get that Mountain Dew bottle yonder.” Joe went and picked it up. Old Joe reached down and got the bean flip and one of the steel knockouts (which were 3/8″ in diameter and cut from 3/8″ thick material which made a small cylinder shape). He loaded up the bean flip and said “Now sonny, I’m going to bust the cap off that bottle.”

    I was skeptical. Joe Jr. still had the bottle, and was a good 20 yards away so I was thinking “this is going to take a while, and he’s only got a handfull of those knockouts”. I was ready for Joe to set the bottle on the ground, and the old man to step forward to 5 feet or something, so it took me completely by surprise when the old man said “Alright Joe, go ahead!” at which point Joe heaved the bottle in the air spinning fast. My mind was instantly behind the curve and I was trying to figure out what in Gods name was about to happen when the old man came up with the bean flip. The bands tightened, the rubber snapped and the cap on that bottle burst into pieces in mid air.

    I could hardly believe what I had just seen. I believe my mouth was hanging open. Joe Jr. was just smiling like a possum eating persimmons and the old man put the bean flip back in his tackle box.

    For those of you that think this is complete hogwash (and I’m sure there’s a few) there is a youtube video out there of an old man doing similar things with a beanflip, and I’d encourage you to look it up before you pass judgment on what I’ve said here.

    The big question is, if a man can do something like this with a stick and rubber straps, what could happen if a man like that had a rifle? I happen to know the answer to that question and I’ll relate a few of the things I’ve seen in later posts, but till the day I die, that will be one of the greatest shots I’ve ever personally seen a human being pull off, and he did it like it was nothing.

  • #68775
     kens 
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    Light bulb on boat dock

    As a kid, I grew up on the bank of Ohio River, Indiana side. The house was on a high bank, and a cut road allowed vehicles down to the low bank. Dad had a boat dock there and rented out boat space, it had a telephone and a electric socket/light. I spent all my days after school shooting bottles & cans floating by from up at the house, with a pellet gun.

    High water flood was a blast when the wind blew trash to our side there was a never ending supply of cans/bottles to sink. Muskrats would swim by and I took pot shots at them, this was my first experience with ‘rainbow’ trajectory ballistics. I was just a kid, didn’t know what ballistics was, but I was learning to hold high and scare the muskrats.

    Then there was that lone light bulb on the tall pole….. Dad had the light there so the folks renting the dock could see at night. Every once in awhile I would pop it. Dad would replace it. I pop it again. Dad replace it, rinse, repeat. Now this is well over 50yds, pellet gun, open sights. I felt good about it because of all the kentucky windage I learned to hold over.

    One day Dad mentioned how he was tired of changing light bulb, after all, he had to drag a ladder down there, pick out the old glass & socket, drag the ladder back………He barely got back to the house and POP!!!

    What an EPIC shot !!!  my ass is still sore from that………..

  • #68776
     Jniedbalski 
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    Now that’s funny

  • #68782
     Glenn 
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    It was a very cold November morning in south east Idaho.  My Son Steven and I were out at the break of dawn hoping for some sign of Elk.  We heard some cow talk off to the right and saw two cow Elk that were atleast 350yds out.  I drew down on the big one with my M98 30-06 loaded with 165gn Corelokts and squeezed the trigger… squeezed a little more…  What the crap I thought as I raised the rifle to see what was wrong, when it dawned on me that the safety was still on.  So I flicked the safety off and BOOM went the 06.  I still had my finger on the trigger…  I racked another round in the chamber and the Elk had moved down the far side of the ridge with only her head and the top of her back visible.  I drew down on where the shoulder should be, raised it just a little and touched off.  This time the Timney trigger broke exactly where it always did and she crumpled at the shot.  We were able to drive to within 200 yards of her and unloaded the Polaris 6×6 to drag her back to the truck.  My son was totally amazed that the bullet went in right behind the shoulder and took out both lungs.

  • #68785
     Goodsteel 
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    I was out at a skeet shoot with a bunch of friends. It was a yearly thing they did with the church as part of a fall festival of sorts. After the skeet shoot, we’d gorge ourselves on the best home cooked meals central Arkansas had ever produced, then the kids would go on a hay ride, and the old folks play music while the middle age folks talk and the young folks flirt with eachother.

    It was a celebration of clean, honest, homestyle, country life. Those were good times.

    I was good friends with a man named Dennis White who was my instructor in college at the machine tool technology program. Even though he was 30 years my senior, we always got along real well, having similar interests, and my ability to interact intelligently with people twice my age and experience level. We usually ended up duking it out for first place at these shoots.

    On one such event, I decided to take my little brother along to see the fun and watch his big brother stomp the competition. Dennis brought a little side by side 410 shotgun for him to use.

    The adults had our fun and the winners were named, then the kids got to do some informal shooting. My little brother took a few shots with the 410. Being only 8 years old, he didn’t enjoy the recoil much, but he was absolutely determined to bust one of those clays. I remember feeling sorry for him because he just wasn’t strong enough to shoot a 12 gauge, and I doubted even I could make much showing for myself with that little 410, but you just have to let the little fellers give it a try.

    Well, Alex (my little brother) stepped up to the line and hefted that 410 to his shoulder (he was having quite the time keeping it up) and yelled PULL!!! and out went the single clay pigeon. He heaved that gun up with all his strength and I think he closed his eyes when he pulled the trigger. By some miracle he connected with the little disk. Connected! He turned it into dust! A little black mushroom cloud in the air!!!!

    All the shooters exploded in cheers and started clapping him on the back and telling him what a great shot it was. He was on cloud nine, and who could blame him?

    What a shot, and what a great time!!!

  • #68786
     timspawn 
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    Eastern Cape South Africa, summer of 2000. My PH spotted a Kudu bull on a mountain side, we were at the bottom of the mountain. He glassed the bull and said he was shooter but not a giant. I said he looks good to me and I got ready to make the shot. Our summer is their winter. I left 95 degree heat in FL and got off the plane into temperatures in the 50’s. That’s freaking cold to a FL boy. The hunting area was two hours from town and in the mountains. It got much colder as the days passed. Back to the Kudu. My PH ranged the shot and called out 280 yards. The Kudu was facing to my left and the wind was howling from my right. I put the crosshairs of my 338WM behind his shoulder and pulled the trigger. I heard the bullet hit and he went over like he’d been hit by a train. When we got to him we saw that I had hit about 18″ left of where I was aiming. The bullet hit him in the neck and severed his spine. My PH re-ranged the shot and it was 310 yards. 280 or 310, either way, it was one lucky shot. I have it on video along with the rest of my hunt. On a side note, the night I got there, one of the staff put a hot water bottle in my bed down by my feet to keep me warm. I woke up at some point during the night to a wet bed. In my jet lagged sleepy daze, I thought I’d pissed the bed. Then I realized the plug came out of the water bottle. Fortunately there was another bed in the room.

  • #68787
     Goodsteel 
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    That’s a great story Tim. I’ll bet that water bottle threw you for a loop!

  • #68791
     Glenn 
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    Way back when about three lifetimes ago…  I was in my early twenties  and one my very best friends, Dave, and I were out in the Idaho desert hunting for Sage Grouse.

    Adult males range in length from 26 to 30 inches and weigh between 4 and 7 pounds, think small turkey, and are absolutely delicious.

    We were kicking up dust along a small track through the sage brush when Dave saw a couple of heads bobbing through the brush.  Just as the truck was almost stopped, Dave grabbed his single shot 20ga and three shells.  He stuffed one in the chamber and had the other two stuffed inbetween the fingers of his offhand.  Before I could get out, the birds broke the cover and started to get airborne.  Dave drew down on the first one and dropped him, cracked the 20ga open and as the empty was flying over his shoulder dropped a second round in the chamber, closed it and brought it up to his shoulder in one clean movement and busted the second grouse.  Just as quick he stuffed the third shell in the chamber and dropped the last bird.  A triple on Sage Grouse with a break open single shot 20ga!  We kicked around the rest of the morning and I managed to get one, so at least I wasn’t totally skunked.

  • #68794
     popper 
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    Yes, GKs do the  happy dance first time they can get the 20ga hoisted and bust a clay.  Youngest had my markIII bull barrel, randomly numbered a 10 bull target, 25 yds. I wondered what he was doing.  He thought you had to shoot them in proper order. He did darn well, then asked for the 40SW.  For days you couldn’t wash the smile off another young GK when he got his first doe @ 100 with his 243.  That one did well with the full size XD40 even though he couldn’t get his hand all the way around the grip.  Youngsters are great.

  • #68795
     Glenn 
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    Back when my youngest son, Erin, was 12, we were getting some guns ready to go to the range and shoot some clay pigeons. So Erin was eyeballing my Ruger MkII 6 7/8″ Stainless Target 22lr pistol and was talking smack about how he was going to shoot a clay pigeon out of the air with it.  So I told him that if he did then I would buy him a new gun.  We came to terms that he had 10 shots to get it done.

    So here we are at the range and we get the thrower all setup, he calls pull and I yank the cord on the first one, he shoots and misses.  I reset and get ready for the next one, he calls pull, the pigeon is airborn, he shoots and misses, then shoots again as it is about 6′ from the ground and hits it!

    So… after we got done at the range we went shopping.  He didn’t find anything that he liked, so we made a deal that he would get my Savage 340 in 30-30.

  • #68812
     lead-1 
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    Many years ago I had a benchrest quality rifle in 300 Weatherby that many of my friends would beg me to shoot, mainly because it was an oddity to them which was also the reason I bought it in the first place. I took it to a friends house that had a spot across the field to shoot 300 yards, we hung a few targets and while shooting we commented about the flies landing on the targets so my cousin said he was going to shoot one of the flies toward the lower corner of the target and when he squeezed one off he said I got it and we laughed at him.

    Well when we retrieved the targets low and behold he hit that fly as there bug splatter on the target around part of the bullet hole, I kept that target for many years and have since misplaced it but we still get a huge laugh out of that event that could only have been an accident. I’m sure that there are refined shooters out there that could pull it off on purpose but not in my neighborhood, lol.

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