Tell your funny gun story here

[DustyGmt]

Not much of a story but my sister always thought that a cartridge, case, projectile and all traveled through the gun barrel and apparently gave no thought at to the "thing" ejecting out to the side every time a round was fired.....

I'm not gonna say she's stupid, but if I told her that I could program my glock to shoot around corners, enter coordinates linked to my gun through a phone app or hit a target a mile away she might not bat an eye. It's alarming how fearful and ignorant the average person is about firearms. I know a few people who would be terrified if a cartridge rolled off the table and hit the ground.

Not really a story per se, but funny.....and a lil sad.

 

[Y-T71]

What's funny is I've shot a Winchester long beard 2oz 3.5in 12ga load before out of my Stoeger P3500 and it felt like a good birdshot load, not much kick at all... Now a 1-1/4oz 3in slug out of my Remington 870 Fully rifled slug gun will wake you up and make you sore after just one shot!

I had a friend do the same to me.

He let me fire his new Rem 12ga tactical something-or-other with 2¾" field loads but slipped a 3" slug in the tube when I wasn't looking.

He was laughing so hard at my startled reaction that I had no choice but to laugh right along with him even though it felt like I detached a retina!

 

[Artg56]

My father used to take me varmint hunting weekends on a large dairy farm where groundhogs had become a hazard to the cows. I was about 12 at the time and there was a legend going around concerning a oversized whistle-pig in the range of 18 pounds with a reddish hue called “Big Red”. On one such weekend we took a friend of my father’s and his nephew along with my dad’s folding camper, planning to camp on one of the fields primitive style and make a full weekend out of it. Shortly after we got there and set up we were walking the fields when my dad’s friend spotted a chuck on the horizon at around 200 yards, he announced that it was the famed Big Red and in his excitement to take a prone shooting position he completely overlooked a large fresh cow pie. He missed his shot and rose up stinking to high heaven. We all suffered through the day and the ride home but never let him live it down giving us plenty of laughs on subsequent occasions. As far as I know Big Red lived a long happy life.

 

[Coyote3855]

I'm not gonna say she's stupid, but if I told her that I could program my glock to shoot around corners, enter coordinates linked to my gun through a phone app or hit a target a mile away she might not bat an eye. It's alarming how fearful and ignorant the average person is about firearms.

Not really a story per se, but funny.....and a lil sad.

Nice that you considered adding to the ignorance of the average person instead of taking the opportunity to educate one.

 

[Vern Humphrey]

When I was an Adviser to the ARVN in '66-'67 a friend who was going home gave me a Colt Detective Special. I wore it under my Jungle Fatigues whenever I was in Division Headquarters, so as not to be completely naked. In the field, I carried my 6-inch Colt M357 (same gun as the Python, but without the underlug and royal blue finish.) I brought handloads with me -- 148-grain hollowbase wadcutters loaded backwards over all the Unique I dared. It worked. Twice.

One day a Viet Namese Air Force Lieutenant came in wearing a buscadero (western-style) belt and holster (you could buy them in the local markets.) I looked at what he had in his holster and did a double take -- a 3" Colt Python!

I went over and complimented him on his gun. He said, "I can't get ammunition for it" -- his belt loops were filled with fmj .38 specials issued to air crew.

"Thiu Ui, I have some ammo for that gun. Come by tomorrow and I'll give you some."

The next day I gave him a box of my handloads. "Let's go outside and shoot our guns."

He took up a one-handed stance and touched one off. A ball of fire enveloped his hand, and the front sight came back and dug a groove in his forehead. He stood there stunned while I drew my Dectective Special and fired a few rounds, "pop pop pop." His eyes widened.

"You want to change guns?"

"Oh, I couldn't do that. A friend gave me this gun."

"You big man, little gun. I little man, big gun."

"Hmmm, nah. Can't do it."

I pilot. Maybe get shot down. Need good gun."

"Well, since you put it that way . . . "

 

[lightman]

Since late yesterday when I posted in this thread I remembered another story. To be clear, I'm not a veteran, and this story was told to me. No stolen Valor here!

When I was in High School I worked in a little corner gas station. My boss, the owner, was a Vietnam Vet. Probably 1964-1965, about that time. He was an Aircraft Mechanic, in a combat zone and worked on helicopters. They had one return from a mission with a bullet hole in a rotor blade. Him and his guys replaced it, apparently it was a big job. He said it was so hot, miserable and dusty on the ground that they would nearly fight to get to go flying and he got to go on the test flight. They were flying along about 2000ft and enjoying the cooler moving air when they saw an old Vietnamese walking in a field behind a Water Buffalo and decided to buzz him. He came up with a rifle and shot at them. They heard it hit and when they landed they did an inspection. Yeah, you probably guessed it. It hit a rotor blade!

 

[Riomouse911]

I can just think of one funny story, and I wasn’t even there so it’s really my Grandfathers tale.

Many years ago, my Grandparents had a deal to buy hay from his good friends Earbnie and Gussie who owned one of the other ranches down the road. After cutting, bailing and stacking that year’s crop, Gussie mentioned to my Grandfather that Earbnie was having shoulder issues and surgery was scheduled at the start of deer season. Gussie asked to borrow a shotgun or a rifle so she could fill the freezer on her own this year.

A couple of weeks later my Grandfather, not trusting Gussie’s limited experience with guns and fearing she might send a bullet towards the highway that bordered their pasture, brought over his trusty model 12 16 gauge and a pocket full of buckshot. Explaining to Gussie that head shots will ruin less meat than a shoulder full of buckshot, he had her practice shooting with the bead centered high over the target. A few shots peppering some paper plates attached to a fence post, and all was deemed ready to go.

Opening day before sunrise brought my Grandfather and Gussie to the box blind Earbnie had built on the edge of the pasture. Not long after sunup, a very nice hill country whitetail buck edged into shooting range, feeding roughly 20 yards out in front. Gussie slid the glass pane open a couple of inches and edged the barrel out of the opening, pushed the safety off and took aim.

BOOM!

Gussie rocks back on her stool, nearly falling off backwards. My Grandfather said he watched the buck get completely pole axed, the buckshot impact snapping his head sideways with such energy that the buck rolled completely over, kicked a few times and lay still.

Gussie set the shotgun in the corner of the blind and both stepped out of the door on the backside of the blind with Gussie leading the way. Right as they rounded the back corner of the blind, they were both nearly run over by a doe who was sprinting wide-eyed from the pasture into the treeline behind the blind. Getting over the surprise of neatly getting trampled, he said they both they laughed a bit about not seeing the doe in the pasture and walked around to the front of the blind. They headed towards the area where the buck went down.

As they walked forward, my Grandfather said they were having trouble spotting the buck in the grass. Walking to where he was sure the buck should be he spots pieces of splintered antler laying on the ground.

Apparently Gussie listened a bit too well. She aimed a bit high and the buckshot load swept both antlers clean off of the buck’s head without striking anything else. The impact knocked the buck off of his feet, but within a minute or two he clearly recovered and took off past the blind back to the safety of the trees.

Earbnie was gifted a fistful of antler when he came out to meet the truck when they drive back to the house.

As far as I know, Gussie never did go deer hunting again.

Stay safe.

 

[DustyGmt]

Nice that you considered adding to the ignorance of the average person instead of taking the opportunity to educate one.

Yikes. You've not read my post in the spirit in which it was intended. I'm not going to explain myself to any great length, but the point is she doesn't know jack about firearms, in a sort of comical way. She asked me to teach her to shoot recently, that might happen.

 

[Bill Raby]

Went to shooting range shortly after the last olympics. Teenage girl there with one of those fancy target rifles. Even had a target shooting jacket. She was shooting terrible. The girls was watching the olympic target shooting on TV and really want to do it. Got her parents to blow thousands of dollars on all the gear. They thought the fancy rifle was defective. Turns out this was her first time ever shooting. Rifle is fine. Just takes a bit more practice than she thought.

I got a funny story involving a nuclear missile. I think that counts as a firearm. Funny part is that I got a missile story even though I was a search and rescue guy. Probably best to keep that story to myself.

 

[Atavar]

While hunting quail in the Arizona desert with my trusty year old Brittany (not a spaniel) we were walking the arroyo’s which are like narrow 10’ deep gully’s and came to a turn that doubled back on itself.
Around the 180° corner and facing us was a full grown Jaguar.
Knowing my chamber was empty and being only 15 feet away from the cat I was not confident in getting a shell loaded before the cat could get to us, and not sure if my light bird loads would do more than just piss it off anyway I stood tall still holding my shotgun at arms like a double staff.
My trusty dog crept over to stand with his rear feet on my toes, head down, hackles raised and teeth bared.
We stood like that for a good ten seconds or ten minutes or maybe an hour until the cat decided we weren’t worth messing with. I swear I saw him shrug his feline shoulders as he ambled nonchalantly away from us down the arroyo.
Man I loved my dog that day! Half the weight of the cat and he didn’t back down an inch. He was also smart enough to know that going forward would be foolhardy.
Needless to say we beat a retreat and when we got out of the gully I did check my undergarments for soiling.

 

[FROGO207]

It was just about the end of the last day of deer hunting season for the year. I had foolishly passed up several bucks hoping for a monster but it never materialized. In the back corner of the field was a pile of junk metal and old washers and such waiting to be recycled. Had the 30-30 loaded with all the ammo I carried for it. I realized it was time to unload the rifle and go home in defeat so instead of jacking the ammo out I took aim at the old washer in front of the pile and added 5 new drain holes to it. Just as the noise died down, out from behind the pile trotts a 6 pointer heading for the opposite side of the field. I swear he was laughing at me. The worst part was I had my Smith model 29 on my hip and forgot it was there.

 

[Gerd33]

The two stories above reminded me of a couple of my own.

I was walking out of my woods after deer hunting one evening and to get back to my vehicle I had cross a small field. As I'm walking along the edge of the field I hear something crashing through the woods on the hill above the field. First thought, I spooked a deer but a split-second later I realize it's actually coming toward me so I stop and stand still. A few seconds after that a buck bursts out the brush at the edge of the field running full bore. He proceeds to throw himself into a turn, really leaning into it with dirt flying up as he makes the corner, does a loop around me and crashes right back through the brush at the edge of the field heading right back up the same hill at a slightly different angle. He never slowed down, and to this day I'm still a bit surprised that he made that circle without slipping and falling.

I just stood there still as I watched this happen, and never made a move to lift my rifle. I couldn't have gotten a shot at him as fast as he was going anyway not to mention that at the time the area I was hunting had a points rule where bucks had to have at least 4pts on a side. There was no way to count points while he was running that fast although I'm pretty sure he was at least a 6pt.

Another time, I was hunting in my woods and sitting on the edge of a dry creek that bordered a field. There was about a 4ft drop into the creek which was to my back and I was watching the field.
After sitting there a while I hear an occasional crunch as if something is walking down the creek and just occasionally stepping on some of the leaves. A few moments later a full grown Bobcat walks appears around a bend in the creek and walks right past me. That would have been fine except when he gets about 20 ft past me he got to a point where he walked up on to the creek bank and then started coming right back toward me on the edge. He got to about 10-12 ft away before realizing I was there. He stopped and we stared at each other for what was likely a few seconds but felt a lot longer before the cat turned and ran off the other direction.

 

[45/30-06OKIE]

While hunting quail in the Arizona desert with my trusty year old Brittany (not a spaniel) we were walking the arroyo’s which are like narrow 10’ deep gully’s and came to a turn that doubled back on itself.
Around the 180° corner and facing us was a full grown Jaguar.
Knowing my chamber was empty and being only 15 feet away from the cat I was not confident in getting a shell loaded before the cat could get to us, and not sure if my light bird loads would do more than just piss it off anyway I stood tall still holding my shotgun at arms like a double staff.
My trusty dog crept over to stand with his rear feet on my toes, head down, hackles raised and teeth bared.
We stood like that for a good ten seconds or ten minutes or maybe an hour until the cat decided we weren’t worth messing with. I swear I saw him shrug his feline shoulders as he ambled nonchalantly away from us down the arroyo.
Man I loved my dog that day! Half the weight of the cat and he didn’t back down an inch. He was also smart enough to know that going forward would be foolhardy.
Needless to say we beat a retreat and when we got out of the gully I did check my undergarments for soiling.

Man, maybe I need to carry a Barrett M82 If I ever go to Arizona, that's just scary...

 

[Atavar]

The two stories above reminded me of a couple of my own.

I was walking out of my woods after deer hunting one evening and to get back to my vehicle I had cross a small field. As I'm walking along the edge of the field I hear something crashing through the woods on the hill above the field. First thought, I spooked a deer but a split-second later I realize it's actually coming toward me so I stop and stand still. A few seconds after that a buck bursts out the brush at the edge of the field running full bore. He proceeds to throw himself into a turn, really leaning into it with dirt flying up as he makes the corner, does a loop around me and crashes right back through the brush at the edge of the field heading right back up the same hill at a slightly different angle. He never slowed down, and to this day I'm still a bit surprised that he made that circle without slipping and falling.

I just stood there still as I watched this happen, and never made a move to lift my rifle. I couldn't have gotten a shot at him as fast as he was going anyway not to mention that at the time the area I was hunting had a points rule where bucks had to have at least 4pts on a side. There was no way to count points while he was running that fast although I'm pretty sure he was at least a 6pt.

Another time, I was hunting in my woods and sitting on the edge of a dry creek that bordered a field. There was about a 4ft drop into the creek which was to my back and I was watching the field.
After sitting there a while I hear an occasional crunch as if something is walking down the creek and just occasionally stepping on some of the leaves. A few moments later a full grown Bobcat walks appears around a bend in the creek and walks right past me. That would have been fine except when he gets about 20 ft past me he got to a point where he walked up on to the creek bank and then started coming right back toward me on the edge. He got to about 10-12 ft away before realizing I was there. He stopped and we stared at each other for what was likely a few seconds but felt a lot longer before the cat turned and ran off the other direction.

It’s actually a great place and the quail hunting is a hoot. The Mearns Quail respond well to calls. Just hide in some scrub and make quail noises. When you hear a dozen of them by your bush you jump up and shoot three. Pick them up and get back in your bush and make quail noises till they come back. LRR
Dove hunting is different there too. I found a spot between a waterhole and a rapeseed field. I just drove the Jeep in the dark to the midpoint and set up lawn chairs. Within 15 minutes after sunup they would fly from the rapeseed right over my Jeep toward the water. 5 boxes of shells (15 minutes) later it’s time for beer and munchies until sundown and 5 more boxes of shells. I swear I have seen those doves do evasive flight maneuvers to evade shot.

 

[PWC]

1970, in the USAF stationed at Iraklion, Crete, the rod and gun club had a turkey shoot before Thanksgiving. Everyone had to use the same single shot break action with comm'l 12 ga shell. Truly no skill only random chance. Closest BB to the center X. After I shot, my 7 yo daughter asked to try. Skeptically, I held the front of the gun and kneeled behind her to catch her. She shot and bumped back onto me. Her shot cut the X center, and we went home with a 20 lb turkey.

 

[Vern Humphrey]

There was a base camp. Intelligence said there was a base camp. So we had to go look for it (why they couldn’t look for their own damn’ base camp is beyond me.)

This was second growth jungle – so thick you couldn’t thrust your arm through it. We were hacking our way with machetes and bowie knives. I got a call from the Second Platoon – they had found something. So we hacked our way over to them.

We found them in a gulley, raw, red dirt sides and thick jungle at the top. And there at the top was a hole. Okay, that looks fairly promising. If I was going to build a base camp, I’d follow a game trail and branch off.

So we’re crawling along, and suddenly my point man comes crawling past me. He didn’t say hello, good bye or get the hell out of the way. He just crawled right over me. “That’s downright rude! I’m going to have to speak to that young man.”

As I was thinking that, another man came crawling over me and disappeared at high speed back the way we came. I can see I have a disciplinary problem in this company!

And just around the bend, I can hear a third man crawling toward me. Now there’s a problem here – there were only two Americans ahead of me when we crawled in here. Behind me, I can hear the point man reporting to the platoon leader – “Sna, sna, sna . . .”

I’ve got my .45 out and I’m cautiously peeking around the bend when he finally got it out, “Sna, sna, sna, SNAKE!”

Well, he didn’t have to tell ME! I could see the sna, sna, sna, SNAKE! His head was the size of a football and his eyes were big as silver dollars.

I came flying out of that gulley backward so fast that I didn’t touch ground until I hit the other side. I don’t remember reloading, but the slide was locked back on my .45 and my magazine pouch was empty.

It took the sna, sna, sna, SNAKE! about half an hour to die, and he uprooted about a quarter of an acre of second growth jungle in the process.

 

[Hokkmike]

Was with a friend out shooting groundhogs. A little fellow popped up and my friend shot. Critter disappeared. Stuck its head up again and he took another shot. Head went down. Finally, the groundhog presented itself for a third time. Bang - another shot and Marmota Monax is gone. My friend yells over, "I have to go check and see where I hit. I don't know what is wrong with this rifle!"..... 50 yards later we approached a hole littered with three dead groundhogs.

 

[DMW1116]

I just had one today. I've been practicing for the Slow Fire section of Bullseye pistol shooting a little lately. I hang my target (reduced size for shorter ranges) at the 25 yard line (max at the range I frequent) and proceed to shoot. 10 shots in 10 minutes is a pretty slow pace compared to most. I was halfway through the 10 round magazine, resting between shots. I raise my pistol, take aim, and bang, the leg of my stand explodes and the target falls over without me even firing the 6th shot. I look to my left and the guy there is looking a little sheepish. He shot into my lane and cut the 1x2 wooden leg of the stand by accident. The local range is outdoors and doesn't have dividers between lanes. At this point I didn't know how I was doing so I go down and get my half stand and target. He cut short the best slow fire string I've had so far. I was still laughing when I brought the stand back. I told him had it been a bad group, I'd have thanked him for stopping such an abomination and saving me some ammo.

 

[Atavar]

Hunting deer in North Dakota one year was a bit embarrassing. I was after freezer meat and saving the buck tag just in case. I came around the corner of a shelter belt and a nice fat doe spotted me and ducked in to the trees. Remembering lessons of old I hunkered down and kept quiet. Sure enough a few minutes later she pokes her head out then ducks back in to the trees.
I pulled up my brand new Tikka and brand new scope and put the crosshairs where I had seen her last and waited. A few minutes later I see a deer head fill the scope (must have had the magnification still set high from the range) so I squeezed the trigger and BANG/DROP.
Feeling all proud of myself I walked up and found Bambi laying right where I thought his mother would be. Spots and all.
I picked up the Bambi with one hand and carried him back to camp and turned him in to camp meat. The guys teased me mercilessly until supper when I cooked up some Bambi steakettes. He was yummy and tender.
The rest of the trip instead of the teasing all I heard was "any of that Bambi left?"

 

[pharmer]

Not very funny but over 50 years ago I was out in the woods with my Marlin .22. I found a few playing cards and decided to hang one on a 16 penny nail that was in a pine tree along with 5 or 6 more arranged in sort of an arc. From about 10 yds I was tearing up the card when suddenly a bullet came straight back and hit me in the tricep of my right arm. Didn't penetrate but broke a blood vessel which is still visible. Up until that point I wouldn't have believed such a thing possible. Lesson learned. Joe

 

[CharlieFox42]

I've sold all my guns and will never own another one of these scary death machines!



Pretty funny huh? I crack myself up sometimes!

 

[PWC]

A school friend and I were dove hunting between a milo field a pond in Mississippi in 1963. I had my father's xternal jammers double barrel 12 ga shotgun. I had bought new Western Auto purple hull shells. First right to left crosser I fired on, I surprised myself because I saw the feathers fly.

I looked and looked but couldn't find the bird. When I broke the action to reload, I pulled out a shell with the front 1/4" shreaded. What I thought was feathers. I retired the double barrel and went back to the car for my single shot Wards 12 ga.

After I got home I found out the double barrel was for 2 1/2" shells, not 2 3/4". As far as I know, that was the last time it was fired. My brother has the gun now.

 

[Seedy Character]

I (16 yo) went dove hunting with my best friend, his Dad and Granddad.

Birds weren't flying. We were trying to walk some up. Jumping lots of jackrabbit, we starting shooting. Soon, a group of turkey buzzards was circling.

My friend says, "watch this." He starts stumbling in a circle and falls flat on his back. Laying still, a buzzard circles and drops to about 20 yards. He quickly raised the old 20ga SxS and pulls both triggers at once.
Feathers fly and the buzzard pukes, covering him from head to toe.

I have never laughed so hard.

 

[.308 Norma]

Was with a friend out shooting groundhogs. A little fellow popped up and my friend shot. Critter disappeared. Stuck its head up again and he took another shot. Head went down. Finally, the groundhog presented itself for a third time. Bang - another shot and Marmota Monax is gone. My friend yells over, "I have to go check and see where I hit. I don't know what is wrong with this rifle!"..... 50 yards later we approached a hole littered with three dead groundhogs.

My wife and I saw the same thing happen a few times when we were shooting ground squirrels over on our friend's ranch earlier this summer. And we saw something even weirder than that.
Once I shot a ground squirrel and he flopped down on his back - dead. However, not two seconds after he went down, I saw another ground squirrel pop up out of another hole about 2 feet from where the dead ground squirrel was. The second ground squirrel ran over, grabbed the dead one, and started dragging him back towards his own hole. So, I shot the second ground squirrel too.
I told my wife about it later on, and she said she'd seen the same thing happen with one of the ground squirrels she'd shot that morning. We kind of laughed about it - saying the second ground squirrels "were probably trying to drag their buddies to cover and give them CPR."
Later on though, after we got done shooting for the day and were telling our rancher friend about the incidents, he said, "Well they are cannibalistic, you know. The second ground squirrel was probably just trying to drag the first ground squirrel down a hole so that he could eat him."
So, after we got home, I looked it up on the internet and found out our friend is right - ground squirrels are cannibalistic! After we found that out, we didn't feel quite as bad about killing so many of the little vermin.
BTW, I estimate my wife and I killed a little over 500 ground squirrels this year. We hardly put a dent in the overall population on our friend's ranch though. I'd bet there were still 2,000+ of those little hole digging, grass eating pests left in just the 40-acre hay field we were shooting them in.

 

[Appalachiannative]

I will share an anecdotal story that happened 35-40 years ago. I was a young cop, married. I Slept with a gun on the night stand beside me.
One night I was dreaming that someone broke into my home and was coming into the bedroom. I was nervous (in my slumber) and began weighing my options. I could pretend I was asleep and maybe the burglar would go away, I could grab my gun and shoot him, or I would hit him with my fist.
Still dreaming, I decided to strike out at him with my fist and socked my wife right along her left cheek. She woke up screaming, "Ow, you sonfab@#*"
Since that time I never sleep with a gun so close that I can grab it unless I am awake and aware.
I don't know I guess its funny (after all these years).
My wife sure didn't think so.
ETA I just realized this was in the rifle country thread.
Good thing I didn't have a rifle. I might have butt stroked her.
Ok, that didn't sound right but guys know what I mean.

Perhaps I should consider moving my pistol from arms reach while I sleep, As i Just had the other night a similar experience. I had a terrible dream where I heard a noise in the kitchen went for my gun and shot two strange men in white cover all's as they charged through the kitchen door. I turned to find a land line phone on the wall ,there is no landline at my house in real life, I called 911 to explain what happened. The dispatch said in a creepy voice "now did that really happen?" I answered "yes dammit they are both dead on my kitchen floor!" I turned to find the bodies gone. I went back to the bedroom to find my wife sitting up in bed with both of the corpses in there blood stained cover all's draped across the bed at her feet. I woke my wife up screaming in my sleep. I worry now that if this were to happen and the dream be more vivid I might wake up firing rounds into the dark. I guess this isn't very humorous but I find your story relatable