Ah! Recoil Therapy

We had planned to go out of town last weekend, but Murphy was just not having it.  So we decided to just enjoy the weekend at home to ourselves.

Friday was relaxed and uneventful.  I made some progress on getting our taxes filed. (I work in accounting.  You’d think this would be done by now.)

Saturday, we declared the day too beautiful to hang around the house and headed out to the farm to get in some much overdue shooting practice.  And by too beautiful, I mean that it was in the upper 60s lower 70s.  We had just enough cloud cover to diffuse any glare.  And there was no wind, which is a remarkable event in the land where even our state song mentions it sweeping down the plain, and waving the wheat, and following right behind the rain.  We couldn’t have ordered a more perfect day out of a catalog.

One of the perils of land out in the middle of nowhere is that some types think it is a perfect place to discard their trash.  And so, we often find interesting things at the gate.  But since we’re all about recycling and reusing, things like ironing boards and old oven doors become excellent targets.  Waste not, want not and all of that.

So we set up the ironing board and oven door at approximately 75 and 100 yards.  Being embarrassingly rusty, I was afraid we might have to shorten up our shooting lane.  I shouldn’t have been worried.  Turns out that we can reliably hit an oven door at 100 yards with everything we brought.  That includes my snub nosed double action only revolver.  Yep, I’m a girl, and I love my snubby.  It was not my first gun, and I picked it out myself.

We ended our shooting day as we always do, with a barrage from the shotguns.  There’s not much sweeter than the snick snick of the pump action followed by the 12 gauge punch in the shoulder as you observe the cloud of orange dust where that clay had just been.  We killed our clays and depleted our ammo just as some dark clouds started to roll into the horizon.  We were packed up and just getting back to the paved road by the time the rain actually hit.

Everything ran well.  I had one failure to eject with my M&P9c, but I am chalking that up to ammo of unknown origin.  It came from a garage sale.  The 10/22 had several, but they were all due to a Butler Creek extended magazine that had been loaded for who knows how long with hollow points.  Also from the same garage sale.

All in all, it was a perfect day filled with shooty goodness.  Next time, I hope I don’t need to dust off my rifle case before we go. (And hopefully I’ll remember my camera next time.)

5 thoughts on “Ah! Recoil Therapy”

  1. Good for y’all 🙂 You’re ahead of me! I tried once again to shoot some trap last weekend, and I truly sucked at it… It goes against EVERYTHING I’ve learned (but I did provide laughs for everybody else).

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