Shooting Gallery

Sorry about the erratic updates lately. I am going to finish the Silence Saga; it's just that, when I haven't been full of laziness and fail, I've been busy with other things. I'm trying to get back on track this week.

This Saturday, I managed to get out to the range again, and this time I took my pistol. It's a Ruger Bearcat .22 caliber revolver. .22's are a bit like potato chips; they're fun to shoot and you can't stop after just one. They're also a bit like marijuana, in that they're gateways to larger and more expensive guns. My mother gave me this gun last year, and it's what started me down the road of wanting, then buying, and then shooting firearms.

This is not my specific gun, but it's an excellent picture of it.

I have to tell you, this is a fun little gun. And I do mean little; as you can see by the pictures it's pretty small. This is a good thing for me, as my small hands have difficulty holding most pistols, but this is not only easy to grasp, it's comfortable.

It's also a very old gun. My mother bought it back in the 1950s, when she was living out on a farm in Texas. It's a single-action, which means I have to cock the hammer back each time I want to fire, but that also gives it a very, VERY light trigger pull. It also makes satisfying click-clickety-CLACK noises each time it's cocked. Everything about this pistol says "Cowboy," and if it wasn't such a tiny caliber it'd be great for gunfights.

But hey, gunfighting is all about shot placement, right? And a small caliber means very little recoil, which means better shot groups and faster time to reacquire your target. This gun is also very easy to aim, as if it's a natural extension of my hand. This is what I was able to accomplish at 7 yards:

OK, you can probably argue that my shot groups aren't nice and tight, but I counter with A) I am a caffeine junkie and you should see how my hands shake on a regular basis, and B) all of my shots were within the 9 ring or better so STFU.

After a while, though, I started to get a bit bored because it was too easy, so rather than just waste ammunition when I knew I could hit the target,  I went for some headshots:

Booyah, bitches. That's a three-inch radius shot group. A bit high and to the left of where I was aiming (seems to be a common problem with me), but I rule ass regardless. And, as Max Brooks has told us, a .22 to the head is superior for zombie-killing.

Having firmly established my awesomeness when it comes to targets at 7 yards, I moved to the 15 yard mark. I immediately noticed a problem: while I could see the target just fine, it was damned hard to see where I had hit it. .22s make small holes, and small holes on dark paper at 45 feet are nearly impossible to determine. So I just blazed away (I had brought a box of 500 rounds, so I could've shot all day if necessary) and when the range went cold I inspected my target.

Making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS

Okay, I probably couldn't pull off a headshot at this range (and didn't even try) but this is a respectable result for 45 feet away, through iron sights, with shaky hands and crappy vision. I declared this a triumph and went home.

Not sure which gun I'll take with me the next time I hit the range -- either the shotgun or the Mosin-Nagant. Which do you think I should take, readers?