http://www.rollingstone.com/politics...range-20120627

damn....cut and paste the link to get it to work....I suck at this computer stuff......

I like to shoot things.

Usually it's a rattler in the yard with a S&W .38

I'd prefer my Rossi .38, :fastdraq: but it's in the bottom of a lake in Alaska...*sigh*

How the hell did I miss this thread!
I am an avid hunter and I like many, don't kill what I don't eat. My favorite hunt is the deer season. Absolutely one of the highlights of the year. I have an old Marlin 3030 that is the weapon of choice for whitetails.
I seem to have acquired a 'few' 12gauge pumps over the years. My fave is the Ithaca. Oddly enough I don't seem to use them for hunting. For birds here, grouse, I like my lil 410. Nice and light, does the job nicely.
For varmints as I call them, I have a Ruger .223 Can't beat it for coyotes, groundhogs etc. and no, I don't eat the coyotes.....but he bastards eat my chickens and cats! I have horses so that makes the groundhogs real unwelcome.
I have a crossbow but have found i'm not too fond of it. Would prefer a bow.
There's a few other rifles in the cabinet :)

How did your gun get in the bottom of a lake?

Hey Syr....I am glad you found this thread too.

The first gun my dad had us all shoot was a single shot .410. The last time I hunted with my dad that was the gun I shot. I got 3 rabbits to his one. He was so proud!

The second gun we all shot was a Ithaca 20 gauge pump. I don't know the model but it was gorgeous. I am sure that my mom still has it somewhere.

The one-sentence answer is:

Someone threw it there.

After a crime? ROFLMAO.......

Seriously, I am sorry to hear that....

Today, I did make arrangements to get a used Glock model 22 .40 cal.
It is a used service weapon from California Fish and Game department.
It will be my first handgun to own. I am stoked!!

LOL! Yes!!!! LOOOOONG story...

(ok, not that funny as I DO miss that damn sidearm) C'et la vie.

Glock's a good gun.

I do like a long story.

Yeppers about the Glock! I am stoked

I shot a rabbit when I was 11.

My grandparents lived on a ranch and one afternoon when everyone went out, I stayed home with my grandfather. When I complained to him (perhaps more than once...), that I was bored, he did what had always worked in keeping his boys entertained when they were growing up—gave me a gun and sent me outside. First, of course, he gave me a safety tip: Don't aim toward the house.

I enjoyed having the fields to myself, and felt very important walking around swinging a loaded handgun. Soon I saw a rabbit, and thanks to beginner's luck, I shot him, and carried him back to the house by his hind leg.

I left him on the porch, got a kitchen knife, and went back out to cut his foot off, planning to make a lucky rabbit's foot charm for myself, and take it back to Maryland, where I was about to enter the seventh grade in a new school (my sixth). It took a lot of sawing to get the foot off. Then I wrapped it in tin foil, and buried it deep in my suitcase.

A few days later, when my mother was putting away clean clothes, she smelled the rotting foot, and pulled it out.

Mom: What's this?
Me: A rabbit's foot.
Mom: Where'd you get it?
Me: I shot it.
Mom: Where'd you get the gun?
Me: Granddad.

She stormed off, there was a lot of stage-whispered fighting in another room, and no one ever said another word to me about it.

Years later, after my grandfather died, I brought up the story with my grandmother.

She smiled and shook her head: "He'd let you girls do anything."

Great story!
The first critter I shot by myself was a rabbit. It was on a Sunday when I was 12 or 13. Anyway, I took the single shot .410 out by myself and eventually found and shot the rabbit. I brought it home and went to get my dad. He was watching football on tv. I told him what I had done and asked if he would help me clean it. I told him that I didn't want him to clean just show me how. He looked all confused and said he would be right outside as he went into his bedroom.
I sat outside with the dead rabbit for, what seemed like, forever. Finally, he came outside holding a box. It was a Buck knife box. He said he bought the knife awhile back to give to his son which ever one was the first to shoot game without him. He said I had earned it so he was giving it to me. Boy...were my brothers jealous.
My dad was a good man and I miss him. I still have that knife.

stonewalldog,
That is one of the best life stories I've read on this site. My heart just contracted.
~Bleu

What a nice compliment! Thanks!

Yo bro! I'm going to start looking for my lefty bow! Also, my boss may have some land for us to hunt for deer season...