I love the dynamics and physics of shooting. Long range shooting is such an art form. I separate the two from hunting although I get the argument that becoming a master shot and not taking game is kind of messed up. Don't get me wrong I have hunted, North America, Africa, Georgia (the Country) and a little varmint drops in Russia. I have nothing personally against hunting I just love animals so much it is too emotional for me. I don't mind you doing it and sharing. I drop the bad guys, you drop the tasty treats, and we all get along fine. Funny story:
Set up
The boys (hunter group) asked me to come up to a friends cabin in Northern British Columbia. Do some shooting, drink some beers and cook some meat. I am super busy but they have been asking me for years. They like when I come as I have a 12/6 license and some cool handguns the regular public can't buy or transport in Canada. So I load up with a couple thousand rounds of mixed and get all the paperwork ready. Then I remember the last time I was up and needed to perform Bear Watch on a down moose kill while they cut and dragged the thing out of the swamp. So I renewed my hunting license and tucked it in with my handguns. I didn't bring any long weapons.
The mornings and early evenings the boys went out to hunt and I spent time in camp writing. The afternoons were filled with quick draw drills, shooting skills, and general instructions on hold over and leading targets with a pistol. It was a great deal of fun.
One evening I was going through my case and found a filter that I used on my old camera. It was an expensive filter from Germany that muted infrared reflections for Black and White medium format photography. Basically it made things like fur, that absorb uv, stand out from things like leaves that reflect. A small advantage, and not worth the cost of the filter, but one of my friends broke the UV filter on his scope and it was the same diameter as this filter. I gave it to him and he tried it out the next day and liked it. The next morning he cleaned his rifle, removed the filter and cleaned the scope and added some grease to the threads and put it back on. This was done inside the cabin, in the morning over coffee.
I went with them this morning and as we drove along a cut block my friend, John, spotted some tree top movement and stopped the truck. We got out into the cold morning air and John pulled out a cow call and made some noise. I walked away from the truck and John followed. I was looking at cougar tracks following the edge of the forest service road. I waved John over and pointed out the tracks. It had rained last night and these kitty prints were big and dry in the fresh mud. We carried on about 200 yards up the forest service road and lost the tracks into the right hand side of the bush.
We moved to the left hand side, putting some space between the dense bush on the cougar side of the cut block. We reached the top of a small rise about 400 yards from the truck and 300 yards from were we saw tree top movement. I went to one knee and waved John over and pointed to another track on OUR side of the road.
Another cat print, smaller, slowly filling with water from the surrounding mud. I caught Johns eye and said " Who is hunting who?" John nodded and held up two fingers. His rifle was unslung and after signaling pulled his remote from his pocket and set off the trucks alarm.
Adam who had been napping in the rear seat of the truck bounced out of the back seat, with his rifle; his angry look fading as we frantically waved him up to us. I thought I heard movement to my left and spun to look.
As my eyes looked up the road I saw a very large moose casually walking across the road. I said, "Moose" under my breath and gestured and continued my spin to look into the deep bush to my left and the source of the sound.
John raised his rifle.
I saw nothing in the bush.
Adam broke into a sprint to our location.
I saw John take a site picture and then he pulled off his glasses tossing them to the ground. He sighted again and whispered, "Sh#&!" "Scope is fogged I can't do the shot open sights, Adam is too far away, you take the shot!" This all came out as a single sound, like a bowel movement, as he handed me his old .375H&H rifle.
I took the rifle and looked under the scope through the open sights and took aim at the moose. I applied a little bit of a holdover and fired.
The large round went in just behind the edge of the shoulder.
The moose jerked his head back and toward us, stumbled, and dropped.
I was rubbing my shoulder when Adam arrived.
We walked up to the majestic animal, watching it closely as we approached. It was stone dead. I looked at his big brown eyes, his dulap covered in pink froth and felt tears on my cheeks.
Below us to our left was a big swamp, the water chasing blue green with the rising sun. All I could thing about was Mr Moose was just heading down to the swamp to "get some" and I ruined his day.
Adam caught the fact tears were staining my cheeks. "Is the big bad solider sad he popped a moose?" He said in a very mocking tone. Young and dumb from the adrenaline rushing through his veins.
John said; "Adam, shut the f*&^ up and dress the moose before Scott decides to dress you." John knew shooting the moose would not be easy for me and he knew I dropped it for him, as a gesture of friendship.
Perhaps a little off topic. I posted it to highlight the midset differences between a hunter and a shootist. For many years and thousands of dollars I practiced and learned. Shooting sports easily become an obsession. Putting holes in targets and loading bullets with a grain or two more, this powder that powder, this round, that cartridge. Watching the groups go in and out with the precise changes. Until you get as close to perfect as you can. Then you shoot over and over and over till the muscle forms a memory that comes close to the instruments perfection. I love this grand orchestra. Animal hunters usually don't get this. Nothing wrong with that, and not a poke in anyway. Just the difference between the two creatures.
