Justin
Moderator Emeritus
As some of you know, I've been drafted by Dad to be on his three man team for the upcoming Sportsman's Team Challenge. Now, to be completely honest, I'm at heart a pistol shooter; regular Bullseye practice at a local indoor range. After that, I'm all about rifle shooting. Well, not as much as I should be, but I've been to at least a few high-power competitions, and find shooting rifles to be much fun. In my world, the shotgun comes in a far, far distant third in the holy triumvirate. So long as the shotgun puts a lot of little holes in a target at across the room distances, I've always been happy.
Well, after taking a look at the events in the STC, I quickly concluded that the shotgun portion of this sport would actually require having some skill with a shotgun. As in hitting moving targets.
Yikes.
So I call Dad up and point out that I'm pretty good with a pistol, passably competent with a rifle, and completely clueless about these events called Flurry & Flush, which seem to involve using a shotgun to vaporize a lot of little targets zipping through the air.
"Don't worry" says the old man. I'll call up Bill, and see about setting up some shotgun lessons this weekend. Ok, cool. So the appointment is made, show up at the local shooting range at 9am on Saturday.
Saturday morning rolls around, and at twenty to nine I pull into the range.
Sitting at the line is a late model pickup, and sitting on a wire mesh bench attached to the pickup is an old man.
He taps a foot pedal and sends a clay bird into the air, and quickly vaporizes it. By the time I get parked and out of the vehicle he's done this a couple more times.
I walk up and introduce myself, and instantly pick up one thing:
Bill has probably been there, done that and keeps the t-shirt in the garage somewhere for wiping up oil stains.
We exchange a couple of pleasantries, and I mention that the shotgun I've brought probably isn't the right thing for the game. He takes a look at it, and agrees. So, on to plan B: He offers to let me use one of his 20 ga shotguns. We go over some basic instructions- stance, follow through, sight picture.
After the basic instruction in theory we move on to the real thing. Step up to the line, get down on the stock, and call "Pull!"
Bird flies out, and I bust it.
Hey, this is pretty easy!
"Pull!"
miss.
"Pull!"
miss.
"Pull!"
miss.
Ok, time to go back for more theory. Bill gives me some pointers, tells me I've been behind the bird, need to lead it a bit, and don't stop.
Ok, step back up to the line.
"Pull"
hit
"pull"
hit.
This goes on for awhile, and I'm breaking more birds than not. By about this time, Dad and Al show up. The lessons begin again. Both of them have brought their 12 ga over-and-unders. I keep using the 20 ga, and doing much better than I would have thought. At one point, Bill looks me in the eye and says "Hey, you're pretty good, for a pistol shooter."
By the end of the lesson the four of us have gone through about four cases of birds, and the ground is pretty much littered with shotgun hulls. Great, now I'm hooked, and trying to figure out how to justify the purchase of some sort of autoloading 20 Ga shotgun. It wasn't until about an hour later that I noticed the bright red sunburn on my arms and face. Oh well, it doesn't matter.
Lesson reinforced:
Whenever you meet some crotchety old guy who knows what he's doing, ST*U and listen. Then do what he tells you. (I've had similar experiences in competitive pistol and rifle shooting.)
lessons learned:
Shooting clay birds is fun!
My shoulder hurts.
Bring sunscreen.
I'd say that today was a good day for sure.
Well, after taking a look at the events in the STC, I quickly concluded that the shotgun portion of this sport would actually require having some skill with a shotgun. As in hitting moving targets.
Yikes.
So I call Dad up and point out that I'm pretty good with a pistol, passably competent with a rifle, and completely clueless about these events called Flurry & Flush, which seem to involve using a shotgun to vaporize a lot of little targets zipping through the air.
"Don't worry" says the old man. I'll call up Bill, and see about setting up some shotgun lessons this weekend. Ok, cool. So the appointment is made, show up at the local shooting range at 9am on Saturday.
Saturday morning rolls around, and at twenty to nine I pull into the range.
Sitting at the line is a late model pickup, and sitting on a wire mesh bench attached to the pickup is an old man.
He taps a foot pedal and sends a clay bird into the air, and quickly vaporizes it. By the time I get parked and out of the vehicle he's done this a couple more times.
I walk up and introduce myself, and instantly pick up one thing:
Bill has probably been there, done that and keeps the t-shirt in the garage somewhere for wiping up oil stains.
We exchange a couple of pleasantries, and I mention that the shotgun I've brought probably isn't the right thing for the game. He takes a look at it, and agrees. So, on to plan B: He offers to let me use one of his 20 ga shotguns. We go over some basic instructions- stance, follow through, sight picture.
After the basic instruction in theory we move on to the real thing. Step up to the line, get down on the stock, and call "Pull!"
Bird flies out, and I bust it.
Hey, this is pretty easy!
"Pull!"
miss.
"Pull!"
miss.
"Pull!"
miss.
Ok, time to go back for more theory. Bill gives me some pointers, tells me I've been behind the bird, need to lead it a bit, and don't stop.
Ok, step back up to the line.
"Pull"
hit
"pull"
hit.
This goes on for awhile, and I'm breaking more birds than not. By about this time, Dad and Al show up. The lessons begin again. Both of them have brought their 12 ga over-and-unders. I keep using the 20 ga, and doing much better than I would have thought. At one point, Bill looks me in the eye and says "Hey, you're pretty good, for a pistol shooter."
By the end of the lesson the four of us have gone through about four cases of birds, and the ground is pretty much littered with shotgun hulls. Great, now I'm hooked, and trying to figure out how to justify the purchase of some sort of autoloading 20 Ga shotgun. It wasn't until about an hour later that I noticed the bright red sunburn on my arms and face. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Lesson reinforced:
Whenever you meet some crotchety old guy who knows what he's doing, ST*U and listen. Then do what he tells you. (I've had similar experiences in competitive pistol and rifle shooting.)
lessons learned:
Shooting clay birds is fun!
My shoulder hurts.
Bring sunscreen.
I'd say that today was a good day for sure.
-- well, some of us see it as the Bright Side. 
