“Okay, guys, I’ll give you a dollar for every shot you make on target.” That’s the offer I made my sons if they could hit the can lying on the ground with the bottom of a soda can facing them at a distance of forty-five yards. “I’ll give you two dollars if you can hit that other target, the size of a quarter, at the same distance.”
One of my outdoor enjoyments is shooting and hunting with break-barrel air rifles. I have a lot of fun with them. To me it’s like chasing big fish with ultralight rigs. I also enjoy the discreetness of shooting them.
I currently have two break-barrels in .22 caliber, a Diana RWS 34 and a Beeman R9. Both are outfitted with optics rated for springers—UTG and Hawke, respectively.
I handed my youngest the rangefinder. “Hey, buddy, range me out to forty-five yards.”
“A little more. A little more. There. Right there, dad,” N— said to me.
I laid the can down with the bottom facing the shooting table and also set up the quarter size target perched on a softball size stone.
My youngest shot first.
“Good hit, buddy,” I said to him as he sent the can flying.
“Ha, you owe me a dollar,” he said.
Next, it was my older son’s turn.
“Screw that, I’m going for the quarter size target,” he said.
“Good hit,” I rejoiced.
In his typical teenage attitude, he says to his brother, “Yeah, that’s two bucks. In your face, N—.”
The friendly competition went back and forth for quite some time, and it was already costing me quite the pretty penny.
“Okay, guys, we have to make this a bit harder. I’m going to hang this can on a shrub at ninety yards. I’ll payout five dollars for every hit,” I said to both of them.
After ranging out and setting up, my oldest took the first shot… PING!
“Holy smokes, D—, great shot. How much did you hold over?” I asked him.
“No, I’m not going to say, because then N— will know,” he replied.
“Oh geez! Just tell him, D—,” I said back to him.
“Nope!” he responded laughingly.
“Okay, fine, I’ll shoot,” I said to both of them.
I hastily did some quick calculation, held over at what I felt was appropriate and squeezed the trigger… PING!
“N—, hold over 2 mil,” I said to my youngest.
N— held the appropriate amount and squeezed off a shot… Miss. He tried a couple more times but couldn’t get on target.
By that time, we had been there for quite some time, the heat of the day was building, and I was getting my wallet cleaned out, so we called it. While D— hit the five-dollar target and his brother didn’t, his brother still walked away with more money due to more consistency with the closer range targets.
Yep! Gotta love airguns.
