My Farmer and Me — Crack Shot!

garden and hummiongbirdThe metal Hummingbird looking for some sweet nectar…

After posting Ed’s couple of stories on sighting in his guns and gun safety, I got to thinking about all the times my Dad and I target practiced when I was in my early teens (Oh my, that would be half a century ago..) You see I was the oldest of 4 children and I liked to do outdoorsy stuff with my dad, rather than cleaning, sewing and the more inside stuff. I got my one and only deer the fall I turned 13.

I really don’t know who was more excited to go hunting my first year, my Dad or me. I won’t go into detail, but we hiked into the woods quite a ways, settled in behind a huge tree that was just above a deer path, and by the end of our first hour of daylight, the very first morning of hunting for me, I had gotten a 4 point, 120# buck. Oh my Dad was so excited!

But, the purpose of this little story is to enlighten you on how good a shot I was (yeah I guess I am rubbing it into Ed) and how I really surprised myself with the little spur of the moment idea I had while target practicing with my Dad one Sunday. My father would set up a target across the river behind our house and we would shoot from the outside edge of the lawn, between the house and barn. The river wasn’t that deep and the other side of it was all mountain.

My mother was taking clothes down from the pulley clothes line that ran from the porch to the end of the barn, probably 15 feet or so off the ground and Dad and I were already shooting. We were joking about shooting holes in a really bright red wash cloth that was slowly making it’s way closer to my Mom, when I had a really neat idea. I turned to my Dad and asked him what he would give me if I shot the clothesline and he just kinda laughed and said if I did I would have to buy her a new line. I then asked if he meant that I could if I really wanted to and he said okay, but you only get one try.

I then surprised myself, when I drew up the .22 rifle that was originally my Grandmother’s and with one shot, my mother’s clean and dry clothes fell to the ground. I turned and looked at my Father and I think he was more surprised than me, his mouth just kind of hanging open. Then the laughter began and lasted quite a few minutes, off and on, as we both were told to gather the clothes and bring them in.

No, I didn’t buy a new line for Mom. Dad ‘fixed’ it and our Sunday target practice was the talk of the neighbors for some time. I can still picture my Father’s grin as he told our friends and family about it.

By the way, I did not go deer hunting after that year as I felt really bad for the animal and I kind of showed up my father, because he never got a deer himself that I know of. I mean not his entire life!!! He always said he saw them, but never came home with one…My son Jeremy also has that .22 that was once his Great Grandmother’s!!

I think I am going to challenge Ed to a little Sunday target practice sometime. No doubt I will NOT show him up, but might be fun to try it again…We’ll see…

2 Comments

  1. Wow! Carol, I am so impressed! Not only by your eagle eye shooting, but what a great story! I love that you had your grandmothers gun!. wow!

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