Tales from the Shooting Range

[Firebird]

I rapidly grow weary of the incessant bickering about bullet construction and caliber and what flavor of Gatorade is the “best.”
So here are a couple tales from local shooting ranges, free of opinion, decades of experience or income level-could’ve happened to anyone, but these are true stories that happened to me.

Please feel free to add your own-

If you have driven highway 6, widely regarded as the most dangerous highway in Utah, you have driven past one of my favorite places to shoot my firearms. Owned by the bureau of land management this is available for public use, provided there isn’t livestock grazing on it, leased to the rancher. At the end of the paved road is a short strip of old pavement and graveled road that would embarrass a Zimbabwe road construction crew. And at the end of this pothole with some blacktop, there is a hill of red dirt, decorated with what passes for targets left behind by the local horde of plinkers. I like to park 200 yards from this hill and shoot down the former roadway, flat, protected from the wind and shaded much of the day.
So it was, one late afternoon before the evening masses arrived, that I drove in, hoping to have the place to myself. Sadly there was a small sedan parked smack in front of the bullet stopping hill. I sat a minute and saw no people, nor did I hear any firing. Sometimes there are folks exercising pets or picking up spent brass in here.
A High school age girl is reputed to have been murdered here, body never recovered. Sometimes there are do gooders in here just looking for her, or clues to her whereabouts. There was no visual evidence that this car was any of the aforementioned so I casually, cautiously walked toward it. Didn’t want to surprise anyone deaf and distracted with a firearm!
As I got close I could tell the car was idling. . . There was some movement and it occurred to me that this could be a drug user seeking a quiet place to get high, maybe even some other medical problem. So I more boldly walked up to the passenger side, keeping the B post in front of me, a shield of protection, just in case. And then I saw it-a man’s ass, up and down it went maybe twice before I could react and look anywhere other than the back seat. I tapped the window while staring off into space, “hey did you know you are parked in front of a shooting backstop!” Then I walked away, back toward my truck. Before I made the 200 yards the little car came bouncing and bumping along as fast as they dared drive. As they passed me a girl in the front passenger seat covered her face with both hands.
My shooting that day was just alittle “off.”

 

[Firebird]

Another day at this same spot I was practicing shooting from sticks-never mind what style, brand, make, model or other pronoun. I had been there awhile, popping gallon sized milk jugs filled with water and having a fine time. I had the place to myself and was shooting pretty well, even finding new, farther places and angles to place my targets.
After placing some plastic jugs around the area, I returned to the truck, tossed up my sticks and settled in for the next round. I was wearing shooting protection for my ears-I’ve
Lost a lot of hearing and trying to keep what I have left. Both feet square on old pavement, willows line one side of this old roadbed while sage brush and mahogany line the other side. They provide shade and dampen the wind and give a natural feel for my shooting. Strangely through my earmuffs, I could hear a strange scratching sound. I thought maybe it was traffic far up the hill on highway 6. Clearly I could hear it through the ear gear so it must not be high decibel. And it was a constant, slow scratch, like a stick dragging along a concrete wall. I took off the leights and listened more intently. Behind me, I was sure of it! I turned around and you can guess my reaction as a snake that nearly spanned the width of the road slowly proceeded, unaltered by my sudden hysterical screaming and stomping. Less than a yard from my feet his head led the nearly eight feet of lean, smooth camouflage into the brush as
He completed the journey across the roadway. We call them “blow” snakes but I think it must properly be called a gopher snake and maybe harmless, but it was plenty terrifying to me. And for certain he was NOT more scared of me than I was of him!
My shooting was also notably “off” the rest of this day as well!

 

[Firebird]

If you drive west from my house about twenty minutes there is a bigger swath of land against the foothills at the base of the mountain. It’s ugly country on the back border of a city dump and a well kept gravel pit. Mostly cheat grass and some skeletons of burned dead cedar trees, it is hardly valuable even to feed goats on. It can be a busy place for shooters but it is often windy later in the day.
Often I drop my son to school and drive straight to this open blm property trying to be one of the first and therefore, getting one of the best spots.
There is signage everywhere, plainly stating common sense rules. “ no exploding targets” and “there are houses over this mountian, be sure you have a safe backdrop” are
Common themes. This gets burned about every two years my various starters, not always shooting related but sometimes. . .

Typical of public shooting areas there is a broad assortment of old console tv’s and desktop computers, boxes, furniture, bottles and cans and desecrated paper targets, among other detritus. Its proximity to the dump doesn’t help as some people will dump thier stuff here instead of paying the dump fee, or arriving when the gates are locked. Shooters—humans, are our own worst enemies.
I often use a big cardboard box to staple my paper targets to while I do load testing. This day was no different and I finished whatever project I was tinkering with at the time. I filled the box with anything recyclable i could find, which was a lot! Then I jostled down the dirt road to the pavement below and there behind a sunflower covered dirt hill, was the law enforcement. A county sheriff no less.
I was surprised to see a siren topped truck here in the wild Wild West and more surprised when he flashed those cab top lights at me!
I pulled over and he walked up, friendly like. He handed me and chocolate bar and thanked me for cleaning up not only my trash but others as well. He had been watching me and several other guys for almost an hour. We talked about shooting injuries and fistfights and grassfires and homeless camps out here and he thanked me again before we parted company. It was a good feeling to not only be in the right side of the law, but to be recognized there as well.

 

[Ridge Runner]

@Firebird, your first range tale I have never had the dubious encounter at a range.

As for wildlife,....I have several.

I had gotten off duty for the day and decided to go to the on post public shooting range to get some target practice with my new Marlin 30-30. The range was full so I waited for my chance to get a lane.

BTW there are 2 sets of ranges beside each other a handgun and rifle range with a 50 yard limit and a trap and skeet range on the other side of the right burm. Each of the 2 ranges accommodates 10 shooters. And it is hunting season.

As I was waiting and watching the shooters were punching good groups into their respective targets. When a covey of IIRC 10 quail, in single file, roughly evenly spaced a few inches apart, traveling down from the right burm, "marching" toward and up the left burm, in the open, at roughly 51 to 52 yards.

Now I can't say exactly how many shots were fired, my best guess would be over 200, nor how many times each shooter reloaded, another best guess is at least two and more times for those with detachable mags at the ready.

The quail didn’t break rank, didn't fly off, in fact the quail acted like they didn't care they were being shot at.

As the last bird in the file safely started up into the light brush on the left burm the range went cold. Throughout the hail of bullets being fired not one quail was killed nor injured.

All that remained on the range were somewhat humiliated shooters left to pack up their respective gear as they laughed about how good they could punch tight groups on paper but couldn’t hit anything else.

 

[Ridge Runner]

As for snakes.....the only good snakes are: black snakes, king snakes, and Dead! snakes.

Several years ago on one particular range day a late shooter arrived and since I was starting to finish up my range day I offered him room at my bench.

At any range it is quick to figure out who reloads and who the by the factory box shooters are.

Except for the fellow sharing my bench all of the other shooters had packed up and left. I had loaded most of my range gear and trash into my vehilce. Only thing left was to pick up my brass and various other calibers of brass left behind that I also reload.

Seems the guy sharing my bench also reloads and had the same idea so we collaborated on which calibers of brass we each would collect.

As we were collecting brass we each had searched, going back and forth, over and over, again and again in this one area making sure we hadn't missed a piece of brass.

We were counting the brass we had shot plus filling the empty boxes left behind by the other shooters with spent brass.

At first I seen a piece of brass that we had over looked, walked past numerous times. No big deal until I went to reach for the piece of brass then it became an OOOHH SHIIIIT!!! moment and retracted my hand slowly, my hand was inches from the head, and the rest of my body was well within easy sticking distance of a resting copperhead snake about ~14 inches long.

Warning my bench partner about the snake, he couldn’t do anything since he shot up all his ammo and there wasn't anything nearby he could use to fend off the snake for me to retreat.

Not my first encounter with copperhead snakes. So I kept my eyes focused on the snake to see if it was going to come at me or go away from me. Don't know why, and Don't really care why, this snake waited until I was 4 or 5 back steps from it to coil up.

Making it back to our bench, I retrieve my 44 mag revolver, reloaded it with 240 grain flat points, the only ammo I had left, returned to snake and turn it into a good dead snake.

For those that like snakes. Yes, I could have left it alone since none of us were no longer a threat and all was good. But I don't like snakes! ..... well, ok....unless it is lightly fried in butter and olive oil, or over a campfire, and seasoned with a little salt, pepper, and garlic.

 

[Nyati]

@Ridge Runner , @Firebird , you guys don´t need to go to Africa to get lots of excitement

 

[BourbonTrail]

Tucson Fair Grounds shooting range circa ~2008.

My dad and I took our new revolvers to the range for a test volley or 3. This range was always hit or miss being so close to Tucson suburbs, sometimes it was just old reloaders building up loads and sometimes it was Fallujah. This day it was closer to Sin City.

We were setting up and we noticed two younger guys (mid 20’s) setting up one bench over from us. They had what appeared to be new semi-auto hanguns, striker fire is all I remember. We started shooting at 10 yards, they started at 25. That wasn’t what piqued our curiosity, it was they way they shot. They were flipping the guns like they needed to throw the bullets out. As we were keeping a close eye on these two, a cholo and his chica setup on the other side of us. He was in his oversized shorts, blue baseball jersey and Chuck Taylors…she was in a miniskit, tube top, and stilettos. OK. He pulls out a clearly illegal (definitely back then) sawed off shotgun. Now we get really curious. So now he starts shooting slugs at 50 yards, hip shooting of course. This goes on for a couple of rounds. They call “all clear” and we check targets. My dad and I actually check our grouping and move the target to 5 yards. The 2 neighbors check nothing.

We start back up, and then things get really interesting. The chica goes over to talk to the two, apparently flamboyantly, gay gentlemen. They hit it off, and now she is shooting the handguns while her man is still hammering away with the sawed off. At this point we are getting uncomfortable, and decide to finish up our last groups as they call for “all clear.”

As we return to the shooting bay, we realize that they are all now shooting together. The gay guys hip shooting the sawed off, and the cholo shooting the pistol in the classic sideways fashion.

Needless to say, we cut our session short and packed up to go home.

 

[Bob Nelson 35Whelen]

The ones that crack me up at the range are the local know everything guys just ask me, if I don't know I will make it up type
My son and I were at our local range and heard these two local experts giving advice in hunting Africa and the calibres needed. One of the said expert was bragging about his 375 being ideal for game upto zebra but was getting a 458 for kudu and other of because if you hunt Africa you need guns designed for Africa because the animals over there are tougher than Australia's game.
We left this Muppet go on with his crap for a while but in the end it got to much to take his bullshit.
We casually asked the gent that was getting an ear bashing from the expert what he was looking to hunt in Africa. When he told us I said the 308 you have will be just fine.
Well mister expert got really pissed off and excited telling us we didn't know what we were talking about.
My son had his phone with photos of our hunt in Namibia and showed the person the game he shot with his 308 and then turned to said expert and asked how much African game he had shot.
Said expert said none yet. My son politely said when you have let me know.
Said expert just grumbled and cussed a bit and walked off embarrassed but ready to grab someone else to pass his vast knowledge of nothing into other unsuspecting people.
I gave him the name pig dog because when he got hold of your ear it was hard to get away.
You've got to love these range experts, they make good comedians and would be funny if they didn't try and influence newbies with garbage.
Bob

 

[wiyofa]

I rapidly grow weary of the incessant bickering about bullet construction and caliber and what flavor of Gatorade is the “best.”
So here are a couple tales from local shooting ranges, free of opinion, decades of experience or income level-could’ve happened to anyone, but these are true stories that happened to me.

Please feel free to add your own-

If you have driven highway 6, widely regarded as the most dangerous highway in Utah, you have driven past one of my favorite places to shoot my firearms. Owned by the bureau of land management this is available for public use, provided there isn’t livestock grazing on it, leased to the rancher. At the end of the paved road is a short strip of old pavement and graveled road that would embarrass a Zimbabwe road construction crew. And at the end of this pothole with some blacktop, there is a hill of red dirt, decorated with what passes for targets left behind by the local horde of plinkers. I like to park 200 yards from this hill and shoot down the former roadway, flat, protected from the wind and shaded much of the day.
So it was, one late afternoon before the evening masses arrived, that I drove in, hoping to have the place to myself. Sadly there was a small sedan parked smack in front of the bullet stopping hill. I sat a minute and saw no people, nor did I hear any firing. Sometimes there are folks exercising pets or picking up spent brass in here.
A High school age girl is reputed to have been murdered here, body never recovered. Sometimes there are do gooders in here just looking for her, or clues to her whereabouts. There was no visual evidence that this car was any of the aforementioned so I casually, cautiously walked toward it. Didn’t want to surprise anyone deaf and distracted with a firearm!
As I got close I could tell the car was idling. There was some movement and it occurred to me that this could be a drug user seeking a quiet place to get high, maybe even some other medical problem. Similar to trying to sell house as is for cash in Florida, sometimes you have to carefully approach a situation and assess it before making any moves. So I more boldly walked up to the passenger side, keeping the B post in front of me, a shield of protection, just in case. And then I saw it, a man’s ass, up and down it went maybe twice before I could react and look anywhere other than the back seat. I tapped the window while staring off into space, “hey did you know you are parked in front of a shooting backstop!” Then I walked away, back toward my truck. Before I made the 200 yards the little car came bouncing and bumping along as fast as they dared drive. As they passed me a girl in the front passenger seat covered her face with both hands.
My shooting that day was just alittle “off.”

Sounds like you had a mix of patience, caution, and quick thinking all rolled into one outing. I can totally relate to the frustration of arriving at your favorite spot only to find someone unexpectedly there. It’s a good reminder that even in familiar, “safe” areas, you never know what situation you’re walking into. Your decision to approach cautiously, use the B post as cover, and assess the situation before reacting was smart. It also sounds like the distraction affected your shooting, which makes perfect sense. Situational awareness can throw off even the most experienced marksman.

 

[Ridge Runner]

Part 1:

Well......I for one had expected a lot more stories from the range from this lot. Only 8 responses.... nine including this one...since the OP.

To bring this back to the top....I'll take a chance for a laugh.....and hopefully other members will relate their: good, bad, ugly, and humorous experiences.

The bad or The ugly.......Not at all humorous...

Upon arrival the range was slow, only 2 other shooters still using the 100 yard range; passing 2 shooters leaving the range on the pathway, as I was taking my gear to the range table.

Not long after my arrival it was a perverbial revolving door as other shooters came and went.

And then this group of 5 showed up.....

Only one bumbling fellow indicated a relatively familiarity with weapons...key word weapons....as there were a variety of types and calibers.....22 LR revolver, 380 and 9mm pistols to 22 LR semi auto rifle to 223/556 AR.

The guy was obviously overwhelmed and had no real plan on teaching firearms safety and discipline to a group environment.

After a few minutes....Then "IT" happened........

One of the group, a guy, loaded the 22 revolver and sat it down on the shooting table.

Another member, a "young lady", I use the term lady loosely, picked up the 22 revolver while sitting about 3-4 feet from me. She cocked the revolver's hammer, pointed it, luckily, inches from and between her open feet, into the gravel, then pulled the trigger.....Bang!!!....the bullet went in to what little dirt was exposed amongst the gravel.

Lucky for her I was the closest of the not of her group shooters; as all the other shooters' at the other tables and nearby me, eyes went from me to her and back to me in anticipation for my immediate response.

Also lucky for her the guy responsible for teaching this group was quick to react, as well as the rest of this group, at her negligence. However, they weren't that quick...I gave her a very quick harsh, hostile, verbal response to her stupidity.

I relinquish my attitude to the guy and the rest of their group as they chastised her relentlessly on her stupidity and endangerment of nearby others.

Her group would not allow her to touch any firearm without supervision. Once the group, minus her, safely emptied the firearms of ammunition safely down range. The group showing their respective and in somewhat disgust, promptly and properly secured all weapons and in discuss of her relinquished the range.

In retrospect, after my immediate hostile response; I probably should of had more self verbial control, that I said a few (okay a lot of) words I shouldn't have said and that I was too harsh on her,. But not as bad as her group. I actually felt a bit of sympathy for her as they left the range.

 

[fourfive8]

Well not much to report. I got so fed up with braked rifles of all sorts, including rattle battle tonka toys, I built a range at my house.

 

[Albert GRANT]

I'm sure this won't be a fan favorite here, but it's completely true and shows the level of entitlement and incompetence there is with people having some level of perceived power.

I had my son's rifle at the gunsmith for months waiting on a firing pin repair. The week before youth day I was away for work so I made sure the gunsmith would have it ready before Friday so I could take my son out to shoot before hunting the next day. We went to our local club range, which I was a member at, only to find the next town over's police department there shooting. None were members of the club but had permission to shoot when needed, no issue so far. I ask them how long they think they will be and get a short retort "as long as it takes". It annoys me, but I politely let them know I need to make sure the gun is sighted in and have my boy shoot before the hunt the next day. One responds, "not our problem". Now I'm pissed. So here is the issue, while they have permission to shoot, they are not authorized to take up the whole range, which they are doing, and they are supposed to notify the club ahead of time, which they did not. Also they were just shooting, not qualifying. This turns out to be lucky for them because as I'm finding this out on the phone with the club president, I watch several shooting their AR's at 50 yds and spraying all over the paper. If I had to guess, the best 5-shot group ( picking the 5 closest bullets out of 20 fired) would have been 3-4 inches!

I put the apparent ring leader on the phone with the club pres. and he tells them to let us shoot. They bitch but move over. I set up a target at 50 and another at 100. I have my son shoot and it hits about 4-5in high and 2-3in left. They roll their eyes and grumble it's going to take us all afternoon to get it sighted in. I tell my son to hold the scope where he had been aiming and let me know when the cross hairs are at where the bullet hit. He does and I have him shoot again, near a bullseye. I glance at the now quiet officers, tell him to load 3 in the gun and shoot at the 100 target. He proceeds to put 3 bullets touching each other about an inch and a half high and half an inch to the left of the bull. Now normally I'd do more adjusting and have him shoot more but given the situation, I make a couple minor tweaks to the scope and pack it up. As we leave I turn to the officers and suggest maybe they need to get a few pointers from my son on how to shoot and have manners, and walk away. They had the good sense not to reply.

Last I heard they were no longer allowed at that range as it was not the only issue with them there, but it was enough for me to make a shooting lane on my own property and leave clubs for good.

 

[Ridge Runner]

Part 2: humorous

Same range as Part 1. Weeks later.

I arrive and the only shooter at the range for the next several hours. I have variius target situations set up on the 25 yard and the 50 yard ranges. And I'm having a good time practicing various hunting scenarios.

Then the crowd starts to arrive. Out of courtesy and switching to the 100 yard range I move my gear and prep for shooting at a longer distance.

About 10 shooters have shown up, and we are randomly going "cold" and "hot" all of us having a good time shooting and socializing.

We go "range cold" to reload, check and replace targets, and socialize.

BTW, It's 2 weeks before deer archery season, and my archery equipment is in my truck conviently parked in the range parking area.

Then just as we call "range hot" a doe and her young, not quit a yearling offspring, appear over the top and past the 25 yard burm.

Oh so tempting to us all to declare an accidental shooting. Question is: How will all the other shooters respond when or if questioned by USNFS LEOs.

Just like a Hollywood crime drama scene where the detectives are about to reveal the real killer. All eyes are wondering around, person to person, the drama builds, as to who will be revealed as the killer. "Cliffhanger"!!

The deer look, feed, and walk from the easy kill zone of the 25 yard range, roughly open 30 yards shooting distance through the narrow dividing wood line to the top and behind the 50 yard range, about 60 yard kill distance.

Elapse time; a preverbial nail biting 20 minutes. Who is going to be overly tempted and take a shot at the deer. The tensions among shooters are high, waiting, thinking, rationalizing, anticipation. It been a timed, by most all shooters, 40 minutes.

Enough is Enough......we all decree not to intentionally aim at the deer as they feed, look, challenging us to dare shoot at them.

We go hot and begin our shooting practice....at paper targets...1, 10, 50, more rounds down range. First the 25 yard, followed by the 50 and 100 yard range shooters.

The deer could careless, they sense we have no malice toward them as they go about picking and choosing what food to browse - eat as bullets impact the respective range burms.

Another 20 minutes or so pass by, guessing 100+ rounds fired, the deer finally move up the mountainside into the woods.

Ah but they only went up and into the woods to gain a better observation of the shooters below. We could easily see them and they could easily see us.

My best guess is they became bored watching us and moved off to eat; for we lost track of them focusing on our respective target shooting. For it had been several more minutes and a couple of "range cold" and "range hot" when we realized the deer had left the area.

We laughed at each other and at ourselves because the non hunting shooters were looking, waiting, and expecting the hunting shooters to shoot the deer. There were only 3 of us shooters that were hunters. And we each (hunters) were picking our shot on the yearling after the "shooter" doe was shot first. None of us (hunters) picked our shot being at the shooter doe as we each expected one of the other shooter hunters would shoot the shooter doe first.

 

[Ridge Runner]

For you animal, wildlife psychologist and all you others.

I have my own domestic animal and wildlife psychological opinion.

Curious to hear yours. Just for fun....or Not.

What draws huntable wildlife to shooting ranges?

Are huntable wildlife just out to humiliate shooters and hunters at the range?

Are huntable wildlife looking for an "adrenaline rush", or "truth or dare" challenge, or a "double dare" "hold my beer" challenge, to appear, wonder around, and challenge shooters - hunters to shoot at them?

Or is it that some huntable wildlife have some sort of PTSD, death by hunter, suicidal tendencies?

 

[Ridge Runner]

Well not much to report. I got so fed up with braked rifles of all sorts, including rattle battle tonka toys, I built a range at my house.

Yeah.....just remember even at your home range stay to the left side of your friends with semi's you invited for a "range day".

 

[R eight]

Snakes. Best security you can have for your gun rack.

 

[Ridge Runner]

Snakes. Best security you can have for your gun rack. View attachment 742532

I hope it's trained to recognize and to only allow the firearms owner to safely remove their firearms.

Otherwise.......LUN-CH anyone...specialty of the day....fried, grilled, stewed, snake.