Tomorrow’s opening day for a whole bunch of elk and deer areas, and antelope season’s been open for a while now in most areas. But with the abnormally high temperatures, it just hasn’t felt like fall.
So rather than slogging around in the heat, trying to get an antelope, I’ve been trying to get some other stuff done around the place. I’ve got the honey-do list whittled down to nearly nothing, and that gives me a better chance to get outside if the temperatures ever fall to something bearable.
But I still needed to get a few hunting-related things done, the most important thing being getting the hunting rifles sighted in. I hauled the .243 and the .270 out to the backyard range, and my youngest son tagged along.
I figured I better give Logan something more fun than just poking holes in paper targets as a reward for sitting patiently as I fired a shot, let the barrel cool, fired another shot, let the barrel cool again, and so on. It wasn’t exactly what the 10-year-old had in mind.
So I mixed up a batch of Tannerite and set it up after I got both rifles dialed in. I put a gallon milk jug filled with water on top, and set Logan up with the .243. I figured he’d get five or six shots before he clipped either the milk jug or the Tannerite, and that would be just the right amount of recoil therapy for the little duffer.
But he surprised me. I coached him on making sure the safety was on, running the bolt home to chamber a round, getting set, and taking the safety off. He eased in, clicked the safety, then squeezed the trigger for his first shot. Kaboom. Nailed it. That kid’s a crack shot. I asked if he wanted to shoot more, but he said, “Nah, I know I’m good.” Huh. And humble, too.