Shooting Memories

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bqglock

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Growing up my family loved camping we would go several times a year but my parents never owned guns, to this day they are still unarmed, not that they have anything against it, it just was not a prioity to them. When i was 8 yrs old, we were camping at our favorite spot when my uncle showed up with my cousins all my age, he was a pediatrician and seemed kind of nerdy to me, (he wore glasses and spoke in a high pich tone).To my suprise he popped the trunk and there lay two .22 lr rifles the first a cheap automatic that jammed constantly and an ugly pump we grabed some cans and plates and went out and had the time of our lives for about an hour. well ten years later i found out that pump was a winchester model 1890, it worked flawlessly! i found out that he collected vintage firearms and has a whole safe room for them who knew!!!

well that was my first experience shooting how bout yours?
 
First time I ever shot a firearm was my dad's flintlock pistol. I was about 9 and his friend cast the bullets in his shop. The whole atmosphere made a strong impression on me. Then in Boy Scouts I shot my first .22 and I amazed myself by putting all 4 shots into one ragged hole at 25 feet. I have been hooked ever since!
 
What started me on this wonderful, albeit expensive, hobby was summer camp 1953-1954. Unlike competing woosie camps that taught marksmanship with BB guns,our camp employed a variety of Winchester and Remington bolt action .22's. We were real men and I have never recovered from the smell of burning gunpowder from those .22's. In a commentary of the times, people today are astounded when I tell them that it was a day camp and if you were lucky enough to have your own rifle at the age of 11-12, you were allowed to carry it to and from camp on the bus. I'm sure that bus today would be intercepted on it's journey by a swat team.
I wish I had known enough then about guns to know what models of guns we were using but whenever I see an old Winchester or Remington, that looks familiar, I buy it out of nostalgia. I recently found a clean Winchester Model 69A target model and I can't wait to take it out and experience once more, the aroma of a box of fired .22 long rifles.
 
My 1st was a scoped 308 something or other. Never even held a firearm till then. Dang thing was almost as heavy as me but I did stand taller than it by at least 3", I guess. Anyway, you know the story; Small kid struggles to hold up rifle, gets it tucked in but has no clue about the relation between a weak shoulder versus strong kick versus sharp scope versus tender brow...Scars are just memories that can be seen, right?
 
Long before I can remember. Some of my earliest memories are hunting for starlings and pigeons on my grandfathers farm with an old Crossman airgun. I first started carrying a gun woodchuck hunting with my uncle but I'm sure I shot the old, single shot, bolt action 22 loooong before that. I really don't know. I think that's how it should be. Both of my kids will recall only that they were shooting long before they can remember too.
 
I fondly remembering Dad taking me out shooting with him at 6-7-8 years of age with his Winchester 68 (the one with that cool peep sight instead of a leaf sight). I learned my gun safety from those wonderful days. It was he, I'm certain, who made sure that I got a Marlin 81 DL for my 10th Christmas. I still have that and the Winchester and think of him every time I see, hold, or shoot them. Thanks, Pop! Sure miss ya'.
 
I grew up with a father that was an avid hunter and gun collector. He owned then and still owns now dozens of firearms and he has a very large firearms library.

I killed my first deer when I was nine and thats certainly a vivid memory. Also getting a Remington Model 722 .257 Roberts, reloading dies, projectiles and permission to use my fathers reloading press by myself for my tenth birthday stands out as a highlight.

However, although I can't remember my first time firing a .22 rifle, I remember the first time I shot a pistol. I was five and it was a K38 Combat Masterpiece. My father showed me how to line up the sights, by drawing a picture in the dirt with his finger and how to take a two hand hold. Then he threw a stick into our pond. I cocked the hammer back, aimed at the stick, fired and hit it. That was in late 1969 and I've been hooked ever since. :)
 
I think I was 9 the first time I pulled the trigger. I can't recall exactly the scenario. I remember one time my dad and I were "pheasant hunting". We both were carrying guns - but his was a 12 ga and mine was an unloaded single shot .410. In hindsight I now kind of see what he was doing: He gave me a gun to carry and gave me an opp to learn how to carry, etc. No shots were fired - until the end of the day when he gave me a shell and let me shoot into an empty field. He didn't want me going out with at least taking a shot. :)

My dad's love of guns and shooting was so deep and such a part of growing up I hardly even thought about it. We shot a lot and it's now deeply ingrained in me. It provided an environment for him to show how you need to earn the trust of someone and it needs to be respected. (I still remember one of the biggest "coming of age" events was when he let me go quail hunting with his friends. I was 14 or 15. That style of hunting, in particular, requires a lot of trust with your hunting party. I was really proud when he and they were willing to let me do that.) Even though we spent hours and hours doing something associated with shooting (reloading, cleaning, gun shows, etc.) I realize there are still tons of questions I wished I would have asked him.

OR
 
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With my Uncle Bantie,,,

Bantie was my great uncle,,,
I would often spend weekends with him and his wife Lou.

Bantie has a pair of break-open single-shot pistols,,,
We would take them and a six-pack of beer out behind his house,,,
Bantie would drink a beer and then he would toss the can for me to shoot at.

He was a huge man,,,
Very tall and wide of girth,,,
But he was a gentle soul who I loved.

Lately I've toyed with the idea of purchasing two single-shot pistols,,,
It's precisely because of these memories I have recounted here.

Aarond

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Pappy taught me to shoot when I was 7 or so on an old Daisy pellet rifle. There was an ancient Pecan tree on the property that put out bushels of pecans. It was also infested with squirrels that would clip the tops of the pecans and ruin them. He paid me $1 for every squirrel I brought him. Pappy's gone now, he passed in December- he was 93, but those memories of him and that pellet gun will stay with me forever.
 
I was six years old when I got my first BB gun, a Daisy lever action. I don't think Red Ryder was associated with it at that time. My grandmother taught me what I needed to know. I wasn't strong enough at that age to work the lever in the usual way. I had to put the butt on the ground, prop it with my foot and work the lever using my back and legs.

I remember the first time I killed anything with it. I shot a sparrow and my grandmother made me clean it, cook it, and eat it all by myself.

When I was nine, my aunt taught me the basics with a real rifle, a Winchester 62a which she then sent me out to practice with.

I don't have any memory, at this late date, of the actual initial incidents.

I recently found a 62a for myself, and like others have admitted, got it out of nostalgia. It's a great shooter and brings back wonderful childhood memories.

Best,

Will
 
psyfly said:
I remember the first time I killed anything with it. I shot a sparrow and my grandmother made me clean it, cook it, and eat it all by myself.
Click to expand...
Now that's what I call a life's lesson.
 
I have many outstanding memories. Like a Thanksgiving rabbit hunt with my father and brother.

The most satisfying was a match a group of us organized in Camden AR. A gentleman, 82 years old, lived up the street. I took him to the shoot. He took ill and died a couple of weeks later. His Wife came to me and thanked me for him. She said that I had fufilled his wish to shoot one last time before he died.
 
I went with my brother-in-law, a Marine on leave, to a place about twenty miles from our home. I shot my first real rifle, his Mossberg 352, as he instructed me. He also had a 12 ga shotgun, but I didn't care much for that at 11 years old. The .22LR, however, left a lasting impression. We threw cans and bottles into a running river and shot at them from about 50 ft up and I had the time of my life. .22LR is still my favorite caliber to this day, and I got my own first .22 at the age of 12. It is a bolt-action Stevens 34 and I still have it. We had many more shooting outings, usually when we were vacationing on my uncle's land up north, one in particular where the whole family participated.

Like some others did here, I plan to find myself a mint Mossberg 352.
 
I had a 12 gage I would shoot when we went up north and a daisy 22 bolt action with an adjustable synthetic stock that we would take to the range. fun times for sure.
 
I too grew up in a "non-firearm owning" home. I had the occasional slingshot and BB gun on the sly, but that was it. The first real gun I got to shoot was at a boy scout summer camp affair when I was about 10. I got to shoot 5 shots from a single shot .22 at a paper target. I remember spending 15 cents of my hard earned paper route money to shoot another 5. I fell in love with the feel of the rifle, and the smell of the burnt powder.

What stuck with me the most about that day was that one of the activity directors went to his personal vehicle and got a sleek little semi-auto .22 rifle out of the trunk to show another adult. He put it to his shoulder and fired 10 shots pretty quickly. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, especially compared to the big, worn, single shots we were being allowed to use. I asked and was told it was a Browning semi-auto. I told myself then and there I would own one of those someday.

It was the first firearm I bought when I got out of the Navy many years later. I have had it now for almost 40 years, and it still amazes me with its beauty and precision. A lot of pistols, rifles and shotguns have come and gone, but that little Browning .22 rifle will be with me until I die, and then become one of my children's or grandchildren's. I haven't decided who deserves it yet.
 
I was 9-10 years old.my grandpa had just passed away,well a few weeks anyway.well went to the country ( my grandmas ) and had a day of fun just being around family.I had just got a BB gun and had shot it all dayt,man what fun.well I didn't know at all what was about to happen.my dad had bought a S&W pistol of some sort.( sorry was 9-10 at the time )just before we started to go home my dad asked my grandma to come outside so she did.now I have never heard my dad do such a thing ( this is my is my grandma )

well now to the gooood part.he had told her what he had done by buying the pistol.she said no need.he was just as of a hard head as she.so she took the pistol and dad gave her a fast over about the pistol.well he then said or asked for her to shoot it.she loaded it up and aimed.well I will have to say that I have never in my life seen my grandma hold a gun of any kind.let me tell ya she out shot my dad like she had been shooting all her life.that just blew me away and I have never let my dad forget it.

I hope you enjoyed my momment.in the last years of her life she never had to use it.I guess the people who knew her knew better.or they told every body and the word got out.but from that day on I wanted to be like my grandma and not my dad.:D
 
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