Guns: What's the best shot you ever made?

[BungeeII]

I missed a doe on the run ...
twice.

In frustration, I pulled up my 20-guage and took aim at a survey flag on a tree about 75 yards out.

If I can ever get a doe to wear a pink ribbon, I might actually become a deer hunter.:laughing::laughing:

 

[/pine]

I've probably made more one of a kind shots with slingshots than with firearms...not counting trick shooting ..

With a 22 (shorts) I used to toss grasshoppers or crickets up stream and keep a bead on them as the current would cary them across a deeper pool that held trout and other fish...I would try and shoot just as a rainbow etc was coming up for the bait...was usually good for about 50%..I shot a lot of crickets in half...


Best shot with a deer rifle...the cold and dripping fog coaxed me from my tree stand...it was really foggy and I was slowly moving down a incline towards a swampy area...walking into the wind I had only moved 15-20 yards when about half again that distance away I am staring at good sized 6 pt...being used to making lateral shoulder shots I did not have time to think I just raised the gun and shot where I thought was the right place....

In the split seconds of the shot I could not believe I was seeing a gusher of blood shooting directly at me on a arc as the deer was turning to run...it fell a few yards beyond...the shot had exploded the heart...it was a perfect placement...the only damage to the usable meat was a hole in the brisket...there was very little blood left in the animal...I will never forget seeing that gusher...!

[edited]

I forgot to mention about fishing well offshore...we would always shoot baracudas with handguns after teasing them up with hooked fish...not as easy as it sounds...

also when we would be moving from one area to another we would sit up on the flying bridge and shoot flying fish with shotguns as they flew out of the forward wake we would push...it was a riot...!

 

[mjarrels]

Never missed anything when I was a kid... running groundhogs, flying barn swallows, flying pigons... Just never missed anything. Guess I had the right hand/eye cordination. Once shot a soda cracker out of the mouth of a neighbor. Now that I'm getting old, probably couldn't hit the barn door with a shotgun. Yep, first two medals earned in the Navy were expert rifle and expert pistol. Getting old sucks.

mark

 

[bigtiller]

The first time I ever shot a 22 revolver I was 9 years old. Dad threw an empty can into the air and I hit it.

I have never been able to do it since then.

 

[Flatheadyoungin]

The eye out of a gnat at a 100yds........

 

[arrow]

A chicadee at 125 yds. Open sites. 22 Remington single shot rifle. Bird was on top of a tree
I think I was 12 at the time, Wait ...I'll check the papyrus birth certificate.

 

[RippySkippy]

I too am smiling recalling the events of a couple of shots...one I made the other I witnessed.

Growing up on the farm in southern Iowa, Dad's farmstead had cedar shingle roofs. When a squirrel presented itself on the farm...it was all out war. One fall day said squirrel must of had a death wish as it was the first day of phesant season and there were guns all around...12 gauge, 410's 10 gauge and my favorite a remmington pump .22, with standard sites.

The squirrel was jumping and running in the big old silver maple just west of the house while my uncle then dad were trying to shoot the squirrel, and he seemed determined to make them look like fools. As they were dispensing MANY rounds at the squirrel, I swear his grin was growing larger at each miss. To complicate the shot, the squirrel would bob left then right as he was precariously balanced on branches the size of twigs. They had given up...and as a boy of 15 I seized the opportunity to "show my stuff". I leaned up against the house...sighted the squirrel, timed the swaying of the branches...POP......thud. One shot through his eye. I swear I thought I could have walked on water that day.

The other was when I was about 16, a classmate and I were messing around with the .22. It was early fall and the cat-tails were ready to go to seed, and we spent many hours shooting them watching their fluffy seeds fill the small ditches. We then would shoot the centers out of the hedge balls hanging in the tree, leaving the ball in tact but a hole in its center. While we were walking back to the truck, we flushed a rooster pheasant...my buddy turned with his .22 on his hip, shot and dropped the pheasant in flight. It wasn't until we saw the bird, that he was hit in the head! We laughed and high fived until we realized hunting season was not open...scared as we were...we put the bird in the truck, went home dressed, and ate him for supper.

Each story has a large element of luck I know...but the memories awesome. Thanks for the trip down memory lane....

 

[Egon]

Mine was igniting the pilot light on a 150 foot flare stack on the first shot with a rather anemic flare gun using 12 guage flare shells.:thumbsup:

Usually another fellow had to open a valve to let some raw gas out to make an bigger plume that was easier to hit!

 

[Bird]

While I was still in recruit school as a rookie cop and had just been issued my .38 revolver, I went out to visit my parents and my younger brothers wanted to shoot the gun. So we went out to an old stock pond with a number of soda or beer cans to use for targets, and a meadowlark landed on the far side of the pond, probably 75 yards from us. My brothers wanted to know if I could hit it (we used to eat them, but of course, I figured if I hit it a .38 would tear it up too much), so I shot just its head off. My brothers thought I was really some kind of pistolero, and of course I did a little more target shooting on the way home that evening and there was no way I could hit a beer can at that distance.

 

[DanD78]

Mine took place in side my barn drive. A strange cat showed up one day and one of my good barn cats was getting ready to face off with the new cat. They were howeling and hissing and ready to fight. I keep my tractor and truck in the drive and there is not a lot of room down the sides. I did have a kind of tight shot at the new cat right in front of my truck so I took aim with my old 1898 Winchester hit the cat. Just as the bullet hit the cat my barn cat jumped on the new cat and proceded to give it the wipping of it's life. There was dirt and straw flying every where. After a short time my cat backed off and the new cat did not move. Just as I was about to walk over and check things out my cat jumped back on the new cat and tore it up again. After the second beating my cat backed off, walked over and sniffed the dead cat then pranced off with A "I kicked his butt" attitude. A split second later and I might have had two cats with one shot.

Dan