A couple weeks ago I wrote a post about taking the wife shooting, and in the comments I had mentioned that there was a story behind the .22. I have heard my wife tell the story about how she told a boy once not to knock on her front door because “Dad has a really big gun”. Her Dad taught her to shoot shotguns and rifles, but that “big gun” always bugged her, and she has a certain “hesitation” when it comes to handguns. I’ve never been able to get her to join me at the range.
So this morning, we decided it’d been too long since we’ve gone out for an adventure, so I suggested we take a couple of the guns out to the desert and shoot some targets and clays. She said yes (oh boy)! So we loaded up the thrower and some clay, her Dad’s Hi-Standard .22 and my Dad’s Browning A5, and we headed out to the BLM land where it’s open for shooting. We had a wonderful time, got cooked to a crisp, broke a bunch of clay, and poked holes in some paper. My sweet Idaho girl remembered what the shotgun feels like ;-) and she even got to shoot her Dad’s “big gun”… the first time she’d ever handled it. Took the top off of a plastic pop bottle, did that one! (proud and puffed up like a toad, yup, that’s me)
On the way back to civilization we saw burrowing owls and a badger, and my wife said “Next time we’ll have to come out earlier”… YES!
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