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Post by 2 Dogs on Apr 22, 2015 13:50:28 GMT -5
My big brothers have always been Cowboys. As such, Guns and Ranch life were a part of growing up for me. I don't ever recall seeing a single picture of myself as a child without a gun in my hand. Ok, there's that one my Momma had in the hallway most of my life where I had on a ruffled shirt and instead of sixguns I had a pair of Miracas in my hands. My Mom put me in some folklorico dance thing as a child before I was big enough to put up enough fight to get out of it. The horror of it all. I'm sure she left the pic there all those years to prevent me from repressing the terrible memory. Later in life, when my elderly Mom decided to downsize into a smaller home, I volunteered to hire 10 Police Cadets to move the furniture into the moving van. My sister was supposed to be handling all Moms personal effects. It would seem, my dear sister failed to take down that particular keepsake before the Police Cadets all saw me in my flashy glory. That was a mistake despite being retired from the Police Dept. I still sometimes have to pay for. Yeah, I've made a few mistakes.
Back to BB guns! What fun!! My Dad owned a grocery store and I was happy to sweep, stock or whatever because I had an endless supply of BBs. Like Jeff, I shot at everything. I started with a Daisy Lever gun but it wasn't long before I graduated to the 10 pump powerful Crossman. I always had to have the coolest guns, even as a kid. I was so cool, I appropriated a 3/4 tube 22 scope one of my brothers made the mistake of laying around unattended. I had a backstop in the garage and used a folding table to "benchrest" my scoped BB gun. Just like my big brothers shot. It had amazing killing power and accuracy on unwary birds and such.
One of my weekly chores was taking out the trash cans on Saturdays. We had the galvanized metal kind that clanged and bent and were just a pain. There was no discreet way to get them out in front of the house either. How degrading for the cool kid in the neighborhood to have to haul those noisy cans. Even worse, there was this Beagle who would come and knock over our cans, and guess who would have to go outside and pick up all that trash. There were usually about 3-4 big cans and that over sized rat for a dog made a mess a tornado would be proud of. I can remember being flush with anger and embarrassment. This didn't just happen once. This happened several Saturdays in a row. I decided I would fix that Beagle and good. I made my plan of attack. I checked my BB gun zero. I waited early one Saturday morning for that trash can raiding Beagle to arrive. He showed up right on time. I quietly opened the front room closet where I had stashed my "sniper" rifle. I quietly opened the screen door and stealthily low crawled down the front porch into the driveway to a position behind Moms left rear station wagon tire. From prone, using the tire to steady my BB gun I aimed center on the Beagles rib cage. I meant to give him a good stinging!
Well, as it turn out I made a really bad mistake. I squeezed the trigger but instead of a sharp yelp what I heard was a piercing series of dog screams that shattered the early morning silence. There is no way that dang dog didn't wake up the entire neighborhood and probably the next one over. I was horrified at the unintended result of my shot!!! I snuck right back into the house, tip toe ran all the way back to my back bedroom and buried that sniper rifle BB gun as far back in the back of the closet as I could. I spent the rest of the morning trying to make myself as small as possible around the house. Later, Mom decided we were going to the grocery store. Me and my little brother piled into the back of the station wagon and about halfway down the street there lay the Beagle. Gone to dog trash can Valhalla. Yup, I've made a few mistakes....
Thanks Jeff for bringing back all these traumatizing memories....
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Post by sheriff on Apr 22, 2015 14:38:03 GMT -5
I can just about feel the terror! Similar experience, different weapon and 'victim'. When I was about 4 and using a bow. Phillips Petro 'oil field camp' out around Andrews, Texas. Mom taught me a lesson about shooting 'live' things and responsibility, then drove it home with Dad's 2" wide belt.
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Post by hoover on Apr 22, 2015 14:40:45 GMT -5
Well, that's one confession......what about the other, Mr. 2 Dogs?
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Post by 2 Dogs on Apr 22, 2015 14:47:02 GMT -5
Sure Hoover. As soon as you come clean about vacuuming the living room in your high heels...
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jd
.30 Stingray
Posts: 204
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Post by jd on Apr 22, 2015 15:30:46 GMT -5
When I was a kid and spending some time at my grandparents, we had a neighbor dog who insisted in knocking over the trash can and making a mess too. My grandpa and I took a slightly different tact to deal with it though...... My grandpa had a few cattle he raised, so he also had a electric fence (actually, a "weed chopper" that was strong enough to burn off any weeds that happened to touch the wire, rather than shorting out the fence.). We set the garbage can on an old inner tube to insulate it, then we hooked the garbage can to the electric fence. We saw the offending dog trot through the yard on his way to the garbage can. When he got there, instead of just knocking it over, he went up to it and lifted his leg to "mark his territory" first. Well, I'll tell you that the dog was still howling in pain when he ran out of earshot, and he never bothered the garbage can again. I still chuckle when I think of him going up to pee on that garbage can.... Of course I won't mention the time that I tried peeing on the electric fence wire too... I learned a lesson about electricity that still sticks with me to this very day.........
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Post by tek4260 on Apr 22, 2015 15:51:21 GMT -5
Same thing happend to me, but my sniper rifle was a Benjamin 22 caliber. He managed to leap into the overturned can before expiring so I just stood it back up and piled all the trash right on top. Nice and neat with no sound other than the rifles mild report and the louder thump of the pellet low in the rib cage.
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Post by 2 Dogs on Apr 22, 2015 15:57:00 GMT -5
When I was a kid and spending some time at my grandparents, we had a neighbor dog who insisted in knocking over the trash can and making a mess too. My grandpa and I took a slightly different tact to deal with it though...... My grandpa had a few cattle he raised, so he also had a electric fence (actually, a "weed chopper" that was strong enough to burn off any weeds that happened to touch the wire, rather than shorting out the fence.). We set the garbage can on an old inner tube to insulate it, then we hooked the garbage can to the electric fence. We saw the offending dog trot through the yard on his way to the garbage can. When he got there, instead of just knocking it over, he went up to it and lifted his leg to "mark his territory" first. Well, I'll tell you that the dog was still howling in pain when he ran out of earshot, and he never bothered the garbage can again. I still chuckle when I think of him going up to pee on that garbage can.... Of course I won't mention the time that I tried peeing on the electric fence wire too... I learned a lesson about electricity that still sticks with me to this very day......... That's just bloody hilarious! Wish Ida thought of it!! Thanks!! I laughed till my eyes had tears!!!
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Post by 2 Dogs on Apr 22, 2015 15:58:42 GMT -5
Same thing happend to me, but my sniper rifle was a Benjamin 22 caliber. He managed to leap into the overturned can before expiring so I just stood it back up and piled all the trash right on top. Nice and neat with no sound other than the rifles mild report and the louder thump of the pellet low in the rib cage. Glad to know I wasn't the only one. Dang .177s couldn't do good Elmer Keith stopping work like the 22s...
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Post by cadillo on Apr 22, 2015 16:29:36 GMT -5
I can just about feel the terror! Similar experience, different weapon and 'victim'. When I was about 4 and using a bow. Phillips Petro 'oil field camp' out around Andrews, Texas. Mom taught me a lesson about shooting 'live' things and responsibility, then drove it home with Dad's 2" wide belt. Great story! Here's a similar though different incident that I was a part of: Rock salt doesn't always perform as advertised in the movies. When I was a teenager my younger brother had a single shot .410 shotgun, and some paper hull shells loaded with # 7 1/2 shot. I think that they were 3 inch loads. It got to the point that my brother's friend's dog started getting into our trash cans and spreading it out all over the shoulder of the road. My Dad saw it going on one morning as he left for work, and told me, the oldest of the clan to "take care of it". I pried open a couple of those .410 shells, dumped the lead shot, and replaced it with ice cream salt, and then left the gun in the living room propped behind the front door. I told my younger brother that if he ever saw the dog dumping the trash cans, to give him a load of salt in the arse. True to form, the next day the dog, about a thirty pounder, went at it again, younger brother spotted him, and gave him a shot in the arse at a quartering away angle. Murphy saw to it that a couple of the salt pellets hit him in the flank just forward of his left ham. The dog only made it about ten steps, and gave up the ghost right in the middle of the road in front of the house. Younger brother came a running with the news, I grabbed a shovel, and whisked the trash hustler to the Old Man's citrus orchard behind the house, and gave him a decent burial in an unmarked grave. That poor neighbor kid looked for that dog for over a week, but we didn't know anything. Rock salt can be deadly.
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Post by cadillo on Apr 22, 2015 16:34:18 GMT -5
My big brothers have always been Cowboys. As such, Guns and Ranch life were a part of growing up for me. I don't ever recall seeing a single picture of myself as a child without a gun in my hand. Ok, there's that one my Momma had in the hallway most of my life where I had on a ruffled shirt and instead of sixguns I had a pair of Miracas in my hands. My Mom put me in some folklorico dance thing as a child before I was big enough to put up enough fight to get out of it. The horror of it all. I'm sure she left the pic there all those years to prevent me from repressing the terrible memory. Later in life, when my elderly Mom decided to downsize into a smaller home, I volunteered to hire 10 Police Cadets to move the furniture into the moving van. My sister was supposed to be handling all Moms personal effects. It would seem, my dear sister failed to take down that particular keepsake before the Police Cadets all saw me in my flashy glory. That was a mistake despite being retired from the Police Dept. I still sometimes have to pay for. Yeah, I've made a few mistakes. Back to BB guns! What fun!! My Dad owned a grocery store and I was happy to sweep, stock or whatever because I had an endless supply of BBs. Like Jeff, I shot at everything. I started with a Daisy Lever gun but it wasn't long before I graduated to the 10 pump powerful Crossman. I always had to have the coolest guns, even as a kid. I was so cool, I appropriated a 3/4 tube 22 scope one of my brothers made the mistake of laying around unattended. I had a backstop in the garage and used a folding table to "benchrest" my scoped BB gun. Just like my big brothers shot. It had amazing killing power and accuracy on unwary birds and such. One of my weekly chores was taking out the trash cans on Saturdays. We had the galvanized metal kind that clanged and bent and were just a pain. There was no discreet way to get them out in front of the house either. How degrading for the cool kid in the neighborhood to have to haul those noisy cans. Even worse, there was this Beagle who would come and knock over our cans, and guess who would have to go outside and pick up all that trash. There were usually about 3-4 big cans and that over sized rat for a dog made a mess a tornado would be proud of. I can remember being flush with anger and embarrassment. This didn't just happen once. This happened several Saturdays in a row. I decided I would fix that Beagle and good. I made my plan of attack. I checked my BB gun zero. I waited early one Saturday morning for that trash can raiding Beagle to arrive. He showed up right on time. I quietly opened the front room closet where I had stashed my "sniper" rifle. I quietly opened the screen door and stealthily low crawled down the front porch into the driveway to a position behind Moms left rear station wagon tire. From prone, using the tire to steady my BB gun I aimed center on the Beagles rib cage. I meant to give him a good stinging! Well, as it turn out I made a really bad mistake. I squeezed the trigger but instead of a sharp yelp what I heard was a piercing series of dog screams that shattered the early morning silence. There is no way that dang dog didn't wake up the entire neighborhood and probably the next one over. I was horrified at the unintended result of my shot!!! I snuck right back into the house, tip toe ran all the way back to my back bedroom and buried that sniper rifle BB gun as far back in the back of the closet as I could. I spent the rest of the morning trying to make myself as small as possible around the house. Later, Mom decided we were going to the grocery store. Me and my little brother piled into the back of the station wagon and about halfway down the street there lay the Beagle. Gone to dog trash can Valhalla. Yup, I've made a few mistakes.... Thanks Jeff for bringing back all these traumatizing memories.... Great story! Here's a different, but similar one that I was a part of as a kid: Rock salt doesn't always perform as advertised in the movies. When I was a teenager my younger brother had a single shot .410 shotgun, and some paper hull shells loaded with # 7 1/2 shot. I think that they were 3 inch loads. It got to the point that my brother's friend's dog started getting into our trash cans and spreading it out all over the shoulder of the road. My Dad saw it going on one morning as he left for work, and told me, the oldest of the clan to "take care of it". I pried open a couple of those .410 shells, dumped the lead shot, and replaced it with ice cream salt, and then left the gun in the living room propped behind the front door. I told my younger brother that if he ever saw the dog dumping the trash cans, to give him a load of salt in the arse. True to form, the next day the dog, about a thirty pounder, went at it again, younger brother spotted him, and gave him a shot in the arse at a quartering away angle. Murphy saw to it that a couple of the salt pellets hit him in the flank just forward of his left ham. The dog only made it about ten steps, and gave up the ghost right in the middle of the road in front of the house. Younger brother came a running with the news, I grabbed a shovel, and whisked the trash hustler to the Old Man's citrus orchard behind the house, and gave him a decent burial in an unmarked grave. That poor neighbor kid looked for that dog for over a week, but we didn't know anything. Rock salt can be deadly.
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Post by dougader on Apr 23, 2015 0:24:14 GMT -5
My older brother loved his 280Z. He hated when he waxed his car only to see a cat laying on the hood and cat paw tracks all over it.
He'd had enough and grabbed up the Crossman pellet gun, gave it 2 pumps, took aim and let the pellet fly. The guttural scream from the cat let us all know someone had used the pellet gun earlier and left it in a full 10-pump state.
My brother felt terrible, and we never saw that cat again. We think the coyotes dined well that night...
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Post by bulasteve on Apr 23, 2015 8:23:03 GMT -5
I also grew up with a Crosman 760, back when they had real wood, real plain wood. I'm not sure the statute of limitations has run out on a few of those adventures. Cats are involved in some of them. My attorney says I should shut up now. Funny, on rugerforum, I just yesterday brought up the start of a thread on the many alternate uses for Ruger cordless drills and started things off with how to properly ventilate carbage cans and containers !
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Post by contender on Apr 23, 2015 8:36:21 GMT -5
Ahh confessions, good for the soul & often funny even when embarrassing. Mine is similar, yet, actually court record.
I was an adult in my 20's. My mother had a country convenience store. She also had a sweet female german shepard dog she'd bring to the store occasionally. I lived in a mobile home behind the store at that time. Well, we had dog & trash issues occasionally, and we'd figured out how to deal with most of that. But, when my mom's dog caught parvo, and almost died, she got peeved. The vet told her it likely came from the visiting dogs to the store. Mom called animal control. After 2 weeks, no action by AC in any form, she called them again. She was being told, "You're on the list for us to get to." After 6 weeks of NO action by AC, she caught a strange dog at the trash & next to where she'd take her dog. She got pizzed again. She gave me instructions; "Son, I'm tired of AC not doing anything,,, start burning these dogs butts!" Well, I have a buckshot load in a 357 shot shell I use for close range stuff, lower power stuff. I'd keep 2 rounds of buckshot, followed by 3 rounds of HBWC loads, with the WC inverted, over a load of 3.0 grns of Bullseye. The 6th round was full power 158 grn JHP. About a week later, I caught a dog, in between the two buildings, and popped a cap at him. He yelped & ran off. About 1/2 hour later, a guy came in the store, asking if I'd shot his dog. Seems a single buckshot pellet had hit the dog in the back leg, broke skin, and fell out. (Low power, & distance.) The owner was a bit upset, but my Mom didn't back down. She told him in no uncertain terms, "Keep your dogs off my property." His reply was he didn't believe in caging or chaining his dogs. And if we were gonna shoot one, shoot to kill vs. wounding. (I still question his thoughts here.) About 2 weeks later, in the early morning hours, I caught a dog in the trash, but due to a bad angle, (unsafe shot area,) I didn't fire a round. But the very next day, this same, new, strange dog came back, and THIS time, it headed away to where I had a safe backstop. Thinking I had a pair of low powered buckshot loads, I went for two shots, and fired. At the first shot, the dog yelped & started running, at the second shot, it sounded different & felt a bit different. Well, I had failed to reload the spent buckshot load, so my 1st shot was buckshot, but my second one was an inverted HBWC. I rolled the dog. Yet, it got up & ran off. Later, the local police chief came a knocking. I was informed that the dog I shot also belonged to the same guy as before. And as we were talking, dog #1 came onto the property. I politely asked him; "WHAT would YOU do?" His response was the 3 "S". Well, Dog #2 was seriously wounded, and the owners took him to a vet. A 9" deep wound channel. And in court later, the vet described the wound as one of the most damaging he'd ever seen. I was ticketed for animal cruelty. My Mom went & got an attorney. In court, they presented the case. My lawyer called up the Sgt over Animal Control. He allowed as how my Mom was on the list, and he hadn't done anything due to his work load & not enough cages & officers. The police chief was called. He testified that he saw their dogs on our property. My Mom was called to testify. Now, the folks that knew my Mom knew she wasn't a softy or mousey. She let it roll on her problems and what all had happened. But the best line came when our lawyer asked her why she wanted the dogs off the property. She replied: "They were shitting,,,,, eerr,,,, defecating on my property & my dog caught parvo from their crap!" The judge had to put papers in front of his face to hide his laughter, and the courtroom burst out as well.
I never took the stand. Later, my lawyer cited health issues, as well as NC law concerning the fact that an owner is responsible for it's dogs actions when it leaves it's home property.
I was found not guilty.
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Post by dougader on Apr 23, 2015 9:13:06 GMT -5
Great stories
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mergus
.240 Incinerator
Posts: 67
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Post by mergus on Apr 24, 2015 16:55:19 GMT -5
When I was 12 years old I received a Daisy 880 pump up BB gun for Christmas. It went everywhere I did for about 4 years, literally till I got a drivers license and was distracted by other things. When you shoot the same gun everyday, at all things moving and sitting, you get pretty good with it.
So, On the day of my 16th B-Day, friends we over to the house and we were shooting behind the house at "things". A seagull was flying over head about 20 or 25 yards up and the other guys were saying I couldn't hit it. Well, that was a dare that I couldn't ignore. Pumped it up 10 times, slammed the plastic bolt home on a BB and snapped the gun to my shoulder. Pop! Got the seagull in the shoulder, breaking it, and down it came, squawking and carrying on. I walked in circles in the back yard, squawking and raising hell. Mind you this was in a 1/3 acre yard in a development, with a house full of company looking out the back window. The old fart next door neighbor starting hollering about how "you knocked It out of the sky, now you have to put it out of its misery!".
So I did, one shot to the head and my father, Mr Nervous, starting fussing about how "each seagull carried a $500 fine due to the Migratory Bid Act of 1918" and he figured somebody was going to call the cops if I didn't get that bird out of here right now!
So I it dragged back into the hedgerow behind the house and stomped it down into the weeds and vines till you couldn't see any sign of it. Thus ended the shooting part of my 16th birthday.
Mergus
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