THE CARE OF THE GUN
Nothing so surely betrays the village would-be-sport, the city bum on a
rampage, the country ne’er do well loafing about the fields, as an old,
rusty gun. Whatever the gunner’s knowledge of shooting, be he novice or
expert, he can at least have his hunting arm in good condition. Many
a man, who must, perforce, wear standing collars all week and two on
Sundays, prefers old clothes in the woods, though to my mind this is a
mistake, for clean and beautiful game like quail and deer deserve other
things in keeping. But whatever excuse the sportsman may find for an
unkempt appearance, he can have none for an ill kept gun.
An old gun that has seen long and strenuous service yet is free of
rust, with well oiled stock and locks ringing only the clearer for
the mellowing of time, is one of the proper sources of a sportsman’s
pride. Moreover the man who takes care of his gun will learn to shoot
it, because the brains and application that lead to one result will
compass the other. Sporting writers have a fondness for comparing the
work of a rank beginner and his new gun with some old rusty firelock in
the hands of a veteran, the natural inference from this being that it
requires a corroded, powder-burnt old piece to kill game. All this is
merely second-hand wit that has been passed along as being too funny to
lose.
Shooting is a great sport, one of the finest in the world, and should
not be disgraced by the use of poor tools. Bicycles and their sprucely
dressed riders were a picturesque feature of our country roads at one
time, but the machine rapidly lost favor when the country boy, tying
a shoestring about the bottoms of his blue overalls, began taking the
place of the red sweater and golf stocking brigade. Dress baseball
players in the clothing of a greasy machinist and even that game would
be killed in a few years.
The man, and emphatically the woman, who will not dress smartly afield
has no business there; they are a disgrace to the game they pursue and
a blot on the glowing autumn foliage. Secure as handsome an outfit as
can be afforded, therefore, including the gun, and then take care of
the weapon, such care that it will become only handsomer with age and
use. This chapter is strictly for the tyro, with intent to instruct him
in the due care of his arm. Lecturing the older hand, who knows how but
will not, is, in the words of the lamented Peter Cartwright, “no better
than preaching psalms to a dead horse.”
In the first place remember that a gun is bought to be used, and is
not to be considered too fine to withstand any sort of weather that
the shooter himself is willing to hazard. I can recall an old Dutchman
who stopped to wipe the rain drops from his new Greener gun until his
dog, becoming impatient, flushed the bevy it was standing. Then the
German threw his gun down in the mud to whip the dog. Your most costly
gun ought to stand up under the hardest use if it is cared for at the
proper time, and that time is always at the end of the day’s work.
Neither should there be one gun for actual service and another to rest
in the cabinet and look pretty.
A gentleman’s clothes always look well. The business man shaves as
regularly as he eats breakfast. The hardest campaign doesn’t prevent a
West Pointer from creasing his trousers every time he has a chance to
pull them off, and the sportsman should never allow his gun to go over
night with burnt powder in it. No matter how tired he may be, the gun
must be cleaned before he can sleep with any sort of an easy conscience.
The process is simple, and five minutes will do the trick perfectly.
The ordinary proceeding is to run two or three flannel or canton
flannel rags through the barrels, followed by some description of a
scratch brush to loosen the lead; then another clean rag, and lastly
the oiler. If too much oil has been left in the barrels run a dry
rag through them in the morning before beginning to shoot. Having
finished the inside, go over the outside with an oiled rag, removing
all traces of moisture, even that which may have been left by the
fingers in handling the arm. The whole process should require little
more time than pulling off and putting on the shoes. When the practice
of cleaning the arm every night while it is in use becomes habitual it
will no longer be considered irksome, neither will the piece pit or
rust even when shot over salt water.
When forced to tramp through the rain, or should the barrels become wet
in other ways, and you are not in a position to clean the gun at once,
shoot the water out. Occasionally refuge may be taken in some house
where there are no facilities for cleaning the gun, and in that case
fire a couple of shells through the barrels before entering, and again
at night just before retiring if the gun cannot be cleaned in some
other way.
Prevention is better than cure, but if rust has been allowed to form in
the tubes, never rest until it comes out. Like the farmer’s crops, rust
grows while you sleep, unless you kill it. Several firms are making
rust removers as well as rust preventatives, and some of these will be
found to facilitate the removal of the deposits. A good wire scratch
brush and plenty of rubbing will always be found effective unless the
pits are of long standing and very deep. It might then be necessary
to take the arm to a gunsmith, but I always do this with reluctance,
since he is liable to run a cutting tool through the barrels, thus
altering the pattern.
The following implements should always be carried on shooting trips: a
good strong, jointed rod, preferably of brass, a four or six row wire
scratch brush or some contrivance that will take its place and a felt
oiler together with a bottle of oil. Never put oil into the barrels
until you are sure every bit of moisture has been removed. Otherwise
the oil will collect in spots, leaving the water to work its will with
the steel. With the first series of dry rags rub so briskly as to
produce considerable friction; when the barrels begin to heat you can
be sure that they are dry inside.
Where rust forms persistently, as it will in some climates, it is
desirable to use heavier oils than ordinary sperm or petroleum
products. This applies especially where the weapon may be set aside
for some time; then I have never found anything better than heavy
black machine oil of a kind almost similar to that used in lubricating
automobiles. I have never known one of my guns to rust when thoroughly
coated with this black oil after being well cleaned, for it absolutely
prevents the air from coming in contact with the polished steel. My
own practice at the close of the season is to wipe out and oil the arm
as usual, then set it away for a couple of days. If at the expiration
of that time no rust can be observed I coat with the heavy oil and set
the weapon away perhaps for weeks, perfectly assured that it will be
found in splendid shape months later. This sort of oil should always
be rubbed out before shooting the gun, and is therefore not desirable
where the arm is in daily use.
Pouring boiling water through a tube until it becomes too hot to hold
in the naked hand is an effective manner of killing rust. Occasionally
pits are formed too deep for the scratch brush to reach the bottom
of them, and then boiling water will be found the simplest means of
checking further mischief. The heat of the barrels will evaporate all
the water, but follow up with some energetic swabbing with dry rags and
then oil.
The locks and action mechanism will not require overhauling very often
unless the piece has been badly exposed, as by dropping into water. In
that case take the gun to pieces at the first opportunity. Having no
knowledge of mechanics, especially gun mechanics, or lacking proper
tools, go to a gunsmith rather than risk marring a fine action. Once a
year you should go through the piece from end to end by way of making
sure that no rust has formed anywhere. Some of our guns, at least those
with the box-locks, are difficult for an amateur to take to pieces. By
way of obviating this difficulty many English arms are being built with
hand-detachable locks both in the box and side plate. This manner of
lock fastening is no doubt a positive advantage in shooting over salt
water, as the locks could be cleaned and oiled as regularly as the
barrels without any possibility of marring screw heads or disarranging
other parts.
Finding that rust has formed on springs or other portions of the action
mechanism, do not be tempted to use a file in removing; a spring might
thus be weakened or some other vital part. A little emery polish can
do no harm if carefully wiped off before oiling. Should this not fully
remove the deposits send the arm to a gunsmith or back to the factory.
Remember that as a rule the ordinary gunner does more harm than good
when he begins tinkering with the locks of his gun.
Be careful that your scratch brush is not made of steel sufficiently
hard to cut the polish out of the barrels; the ordinary saucer-shaped
little brush will do this with regularity and certainty. However, the
four or eight row brushes are made of softer metal which I have not
found to do any harm. The Lefever Gun Cleaner is an excellent tool. It
has pliable steel plates, armed with soft steel teeth, and so bent as
to contract and expand with the variations in the bore, keeping the
teeth bearing evenly throughout. The brass covered rubber bulbs will do
this also just as effectively.
If your stock is oil finished and not varnished a filling oil should
be rubbed into it occasionally. By hard rubbing with an oiled rag the
wood can be kept in as good shape as when it left the factory, or even
improved in appearance. Dents and scratches can thus be rubbed out if
not too deep, and with the polishing the grain and curl of the wood
become more apparent.
Barrels of modern compressed steel do not dent easily, but if you are
so unfortunate as to strike them with sufficient force to mar them
they had best go back to the factory. No ordinary shooter or jackleg
gunsmith should attempt to hammer dents out of a pair of barrels.
Take care of your gun in crossing wire fences or the result will be a
certain marring of the fore-end. There is a great temptation to press
down a wire in crossing such fences with the gun and nine pieces in ten
where they have seen much service in a cattle country show the effect
of it. A rebounding wire is very apt to catch the stock, too, cutting
into it so deeply as to be past remedy.
Open and close the arm carefully, without any sudden jerks or extreme
force. I have known more than one cocking hook to be broken clean off
by the shooter yanking open his gun under excitement. Modern guns are
made pretty strong, but they shouldn’t be expected to stand as much
rough usage as a jack-screw. Snapping the locks with the shell chambers
empty is a bad habit. It is like striking a heavy fist blow into the
empty air and any boxer can tell you how that feels. Put spent shells
into the arm should you desire to practice snapping and aiming.
Procure a good heavy sole leather case in which to carry your gun when
traveling. Possibly the weapon will have to be submitted to the tender
mercies of a baggage master at odd times, and goodness knows what he
will do to it. He may hang it on the side of the car and allow it
to fall or drop on an iron bound trunk; maybe the trunk will do the
dropping with the gun beneath it. Under such circumstances the stock
might be cracked or the barrels bent. Traveling in a wagon with the arm
lying at the bottom and bumping over a rough road is not much better,
but it is safer than for a half dozen men to crowd into one wagon,
holding their naked guns in hand with the invariable result of striking
the barrels roughly together. Horseback work is especially hard upon
the gun which should be encased in a heavy scabbard, preferably one
lined with sheepskin possessing a dense fleece.
Occasionally even a careful gunner will drop his weapon upon the
ground. When this happens always look through the barrels to be sure
that no dirt or other deposit has found its way into them. I have known
several barrels to be burst by having a very small amount of dirt in
the muzzle; even soft snow may do the same thing. Should there be
anything in the barrel clean it out carefully. In one instance that
fell under my observation the shooter removed a bit of earth with a
stick, and the next charge tore the barrel off. Do not permit any boy
or other irresponsible person to fool with your gun, and do not loan
it to your best friend--give him another one.
I can only repeat: make the nightly cleaning of your piece an
invariable habit, not to be omitted under any circumstances. No more
think of going to bed with your gun dirty than sleeping with your wet
boots on. If you make any excuse and fail of your duty to the faithful
piece just once, the thing will grow upon you, and shortly the arm will
be in such condition as to be considered not worth cleaning. Remove
lead with elbow grease and a scratch brush, depending mostly upon the
elbow.
PART II
SCIENCE OF WING-SHOOTING
CHAPTER I
WING-SHOOTING PROBLEMS
In wing-shooting an object in motion must be struck by missiles from
an arm also in motion. The whole science of wing-shooting consists
in delivering a charge of shot, not directly at the flying target,
but to a point where the bird will be when the charge reaches it. A
woman novelist states the matter very naïvely when telling her sister
sportswomen how to shoot English sparrows with a 22 rifle. Incidentally
the lady cleverly demonstrates that she possesses all those qualities
of lively imagination so requisite in a writer of “fiction for girls.”
According to the authoress she early discovered that when attempting
to hit the little birds while they were sitting she missed because of
their springing away with the flash of the gun, but when she jumped
them and shot _where they would be when the bullet got there_ she
killed them every time. Wing-shooting is as simple as that, merely
shoot exactly where the bird will be when the shot gets there and
success is certain, even with a rifle.
Many of us have had more trouble to do this with a shotgun, however,
than this feminine writer of fiction seems to have found with a
rifle, hence this book on the science of wing-shooting. If the birds
invariably flew in the same direction with a motion as even as the
flight of an arrow, at one unvarying rate of speed, and the gunner knew
how to gauge the speed and angle to the fraction of an inch, possessing
at the same time the mechanical regularity of a machine in every
movement he made, I see no reason why he should not be as successful as
the lady.
In field shooting every separate shot may afford its own individual
problem which must be solved instantly if the game is to be killed.
Wing-shooting problems are highly complex, moreover, because nearly
every factor is unknown. The only factor, indeed, that is absolutely
known, or should be, is that when the gun is held right the bird is
killed. The death of the bird proves, _per se_, that the problem was
correctly solved, and there is no other correct solution. Reasoning
backward from results we know that the mind stated the unknown factors
with truth and reckoned from them without error. However, suppose the
bird were missed, the question then is to learn which of the unknown
factors was misstated, and here our difficulties begin. It reminds me
of a department in an old arithmetic of my father’s which was called
supposition. You supposed such and such to be the case, and this
governed a second unknown quantity, which finally led to solving the
problem provided your first supposition had been correct; otherwise you
tried again--in wing-shooting at another bird.
The unknown factors in wing-shooting are the behavior of the shot
charge and where it has gone when you miss; the direction, rate of
speed, and evenness of flight of the target; the mechanical ability
of the gunner to perform certain acts with absolute regularity and
precision; the behavior of the shooter’s mind and nerves under varying
degrees of tension.
If only one of these unknown quantities were known, fixed, and stable
it would immensely facilitate learning to shoot on the wing. For
instance, if our shot charge went up to the target in the shape of a
ball, approximately thirty inches in diameter, that we could see strike
or miss the target, we could all learn more of this art in a year than
we now do in a lifetime. The expert shot can frequently tell why he
has missed and where his charge went, but not so the novice for whom
we are writing. Even the most experienced are frequently puzzled as
to the cause of missing, though in their case it merely adds to the
fascination of the game which would lose in interest if made too easy.
In the same way if we could shoot at game which had an undeviating
line of flight, with angles that never changed and a speed that never
varied, striking the mark would be greatly simplified. We would
then have conditions similar to those that govern trap shooting at
artificial birds where high scores are made with such regularity as to
become monotonous.
Given a shot charge that could be seen and a target at known angles
whose rate of flight never changed, and we would still have two
unstable factors to contend with; the inability to make a perfect
mechanical machine of the human body and poor team work on the part of
brain and nerves. Mechanically, nature has endowed us differently. A
man may be able to draw one straight line, but if you tell him to draw
ten, one of them will be crooked; some other can draw ten straight
lines but will fail before reaching a hundred. The more difficult the
task and the longer continued, the higher the degree of mechanical
skill required. An expert modern trapshot is simply a great mechanic
and nothing else, but a high degree of mechanical skill is a requisite
in every description of wing-shooting. Nevertheless it is only _one_ of
the factors that lead to success in live bird shooting.
The action of an individual’s mind and nerves under varying degrees
of excitement is one of the shooting factors that are extremely hard
to control. Reliable work can only be accomplished by the man whose
mind and nerves have been trained to that very sort of thing. They must
work with automatic rapidity, without effort, under all circumstances.
Pulling the three-pound trigger of a shotgun is a very simple thing but
it takes one man six times as long to accomplish it as it does another,
or the trigger may be pressed in four-hundredths of a second ordinarily
but under excitement will be pulled in one-hundredth of a second. If
one pull places the charge upon the bird the other would probably miss
it.
It might be well to illustrate some of the shooting principles
mentioned. A quail is passing the gun at a distance of twenty yards and
the arm is aligned two feet ahead of the bird and fired, resulting in
a kill. Now the student of wing-shooting has an apparent foundation to
work upon, one of his unknown factors has become a fixed quantity; a
bird crossing at right angles, twenty yards distant, can be killed by
holding two feet in advance. But the next bird that affords a similar
shot is a duck and shooting two feet in front of it scores a clean
miss. His theory of holding two feet ahead of the target proved wrong
in this case and he must find reasons. By and by it may occur to him
that the duck was flying faster than the quail, forty feet a second
faster. The necessity of closely calculating the speed of flight of
the target is thus strongly impressed, and it dawns upon him that one
of the unknown factors, speed of flight, can never become a fixed
quantity, but must always be estimated, and upon his sound judgment
depends his skill as a shot.
The next duck that comes along he leads four feet and kills, much to
his satisfaction, for now he knows that two feet in advance of a quail
will kill it and four feet in front will connect with ducks. However,
a third duck is of a different variety, one that comes loitering by at
twenty miles an hour. A pull four feet ahead of this fowl results in
another rank miss and a badly puzzled shooter. Holding two or four feet
in advance doesn’t all depend on the variety of bird for the same wings
can carry it fast or slow, and every bird must be judged individually.
Again a quail comes by. A two feet lead will surely kill him as it did
before, but just as the trigger is pressed the bird suddenly swoops,
and the charge goes harmlessly above him. Birds must fly evenly if
our novice is to strike them; yes, and any one else--that is what the
second barrel is for. Yet another duck wings by and the gunner means to
try that four foot lead again, but the aim is high. He knows it, but
there is no time for more than the one aim and he cannot avoid throwing
his charge away. Our tyro has learned something else, though, if he is
to kill he must have the mechanical ability to place his charge exactly
where he means it to go, otherwise the knowledge of speed and where to
hold that he has been acquiring is all wasted.
More opportunities occur and the student resolves to be extremely
careful as to where he places his next shot. All his movements are
more deliberate. He swings slowly and pulls steadily and carefully, as
nearly as he can judge exactly four feet ahead of the duck, but it goes
on without the loss of a feather. Now what the deuce was wrong? Did he
fail to estimate the speed, or to hold where he intended? He may not
know it or learn what was the trouble for a long time, but the miss was
due entirely to his extreme care and over caution, to dwelling on the
trigger and taking six-hundredths of a second to pull it in place of
his usual one-hundredth. During the time lost by his over carefulness
the bird flew four feet and the shot passed away behind. His finger and
brain worked together like balky horses, when one lunged forward the
other held back.
Gradually he acquires knowledge, but all birds do not fly past at
twenty yards. A big bird swings down upon him and he thinks it very
close, but the usual lead fails to cut a feather. His gun swung to the
very spot he wished, he pulled in exact time, the flight of the fowl
never wavered from a straight line, and yet he missed. Neither would
he ever have known why except for a friend standing near who asked him
where he had held and how far off he considered the bird to be. His
reply was twenty-five yards and he had held five feet in front of the
old drake. He was skeptical when told that the fowl was not less than
forty-five yards distant and that he should have aimed from eight to
ten feet in front of it.
All this will be dwelt upon later. Here I wish merely to impress upon
the reader that the difficulties of wing-shooting lie almost entirely
in the inability of the gunner to detect the cause of error. Should he
ascribe the trouble to one thing and it proves to be something else, he
will surely go farther astray. There is no such thing as profiting by
our mistakes unless we know what those mistakes are. A bird might be
missed by giving it too much lead while the shooter, concluding he had
not led enough, would get farther and farther out with every succeeding
miss. Very likely the result of a perfect estimate of distance, angle,
and speed is thrown away by the novice keeping poor time, swinging too
fast or too slow, with a consequent placing of the charge elsewhere
than where he thinks he did. Under such circumstances the most natural
and easiest thing to do is to change the point of aim with the
inevitable additional misses that are as certain to follow as that two
wrongs do not make a right.
A false diagnosis leads to the novice swallowing many bitter and
useless doses. It is like a hunter hurrying to camp but on the wrong
road, the faster he walks the farther off he gets.
Some of the problems of wing-shooting are much more complex than any of
the foregoing. It took the writer a good ten years of steady practice
to solve one, and he thinks well of his work at that. Through years of
shooting I was considerably exercised by the fact that I missed easy
shots, generally quail going straight away or gently quartering--shots
that should have been as easy as falling off a log. Very often this
happened when I was perfectly cool and collected, covering my target
with such ease and certainty that missing should have been impossible.
By and by, from being told by companions and seeing the shot strike the
water or sand, I learned that the trouble was shooting low. There was
no doubt that I missed by shooting under, but I couldn’t see why when
the bird had been quivering along just above the muzzle of my gun as it
had a thousand times before when killed. One thing was obvious; I only
lost the birds that I felt sure of killing, those that were covered
with deliberate, calculating accuracy.
That being the case, I had only to quicken time, or shoot a trifle more
recklessly to kill, and this I could do. However, this did not satisfy
me; I wished to know reasons for the miss as the only sure means of
preventing its recurrence. My first conclusion was that with deliberate
shots I flinched and dropped the muzzle without knowing it. This
satisfied me in a way, though I worried because I never could detect
the flinching or discover means of preventing it. Then I solved the
mystery though I still miss the birds sometimes.
Here is the solution which applied in my case and might or might
not in others. At the exact instant when an experienced shot expects
his weapon to be discharged, he unconsciously leans forward to catch
the recoil which would otherwise throw him backward out of balance,
preventing the quick delivery of his second barrel. Now suppose the
weapon misses fire, there being no recoil to restore the equilibrium of
the body, it continues forward and if the gunner is standing in a light
duck boat he may be pitched out. On firm ground the muscles of the feet
will quickly restore him to position, but he will find his gun pointing
well beneath the target.
In a minor degree all this happened to me when I pulled deliberately.
Leaning forward to catch the kick which did not come at the anticipated
time because of slow pulling, down went the muzzle of my gun enough to
insure a miss. Of course leaning forward might not depress the muzzle
of the gun if you did it consciously, but not one shooter in a thousand
knows that he does it, and considerable poor work can be attributed to
this cause.
Close observation, experience, and practice will take you safely over
the road to the expert wing-shot’s camp, and the farther you travel the
smoother the path becomes--only do not take the wrong trail or walk in
a circle, neither trust any one else to more than point the direction
you ought to go.
In an entire day’s field shooting no two shots may be alike; indeed,
it is a question if two shots are ever exactly similar in live bird
shooting. One bird is driving, another is coming in; this little chap
quarters with a rising flight, and the next is dropping like a bullet;
the snipe dodges, while the mallard swerves and towers; now a wary old
pintail beats up against the wind and hovers over the decoys, but forty
yards beyond a blue wing teal whistles down the wind at a hundred and
twenty miles an hour. No man ever lived or ever will live that could
kill them all, which is as it should be.
I can remember the time when I could recall every kill made during
an entire season and where I held for the shot. That time will never
come to me again. The very best sport is enjoyed only by the ambitious
novice who is just beginning to learn. Youth, a good gun, and the
brown birds rising in the ragweed field need ask no odds of king or
millionaire. What matter if in five only one solved problem has deadly
results, life is before the boy and the skill that is surely coming to
every man who loves the gun.
CHAPTER II
AIMING
ONE EYE AIMING. BINOCULAR SHOOTING. GUN POINTING
Wing-shooting is of comparatively modern origin. A hundred years ago
very few birds were killed a-wing, and those with a long barreled old
flintlock that usually had double sights and was fired with what we
should consider a slow, pottering aim. Wing-shooting really dates from
the invention of percussion caps in a practical form, about 1830, and
the present style of shotgun shooting is of very modern origin.
Naturally the rifle method of aiming had its influence for a good
many years, a full half century in fact, long after the invention of
breechloading guns. The old manner of shooting a shotgun was to close
one eye and squint low over the breech, theoretically never pulling
trigger until the front bead was accurately aligned upon the target.
Many an old veteran still speaks learnedly of “drawing a bead” on the
game. The author’s wing-shooting career has been connected with the
breechloader only, yet in his first lessons, given by his father,
the necessity of closing one eye if any accuracy of aim were to be
attained, was strongly emphasized. In truth the primer of gun firing
was to learn to close one eye instantly and invariably preparatory
to aiming, and the second principle was not to shut them both before
pulling the trigger. If in those days any man had discovered that he
could kill game by simply pointing his gun without closing his eye
or seeing a sight, he would never have had courage enough openly to
advocate such a system of gun aiming.
Doubtless the coming of nitro powder has had much to do with the
development of our present slap-bang fashion of shotgun shooting, yet
due credit should be given to Doctor Carver who is properly entitled
to be called the father of modern wing-shooting. Probably no less
wonderful shot than he could have had influence enough to have changed
a style of shotgun aiming that was once universal.
The “one eye” method of sighting a shotgun is not altogether obsolete
yet. Many a veteran sportsman has shot long and successfully in this
way, and will not change; neither is there good reason why he should,
for it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks, nor does he learn them
quite so well as he knew the old. Nevertheless it is true that few or
no expert shots ever close an eye in aiming to-day, though some of
them in effect _sight_ exactly the same as though they did. The writer
has followed the Carver scheme of _gun pointing_ more years than he can
remember, and among all his friends who shoot well, especially in the
uplands, there are none who have any other method of aiming.
Many who point a gun without regard to sight or rib do it
unconsciously. As an example, a shooting companion of mine who found
difficulty in connecting with crossing birds concluded that a patent
sight with three beads would assist him greatly. With a bird passing to
the left he would use the right bead, and he figured to a mathematical
nicety just how far ahead that would throw his charge. After a shot of
the kind that usually troubled him, which he missed exactly as before,
I asked him where he had held that off bead. He admitted blankly that
he never had seen it, and neither could he remember ever seeing one of
those three beads afterward when making a quick shot though they were
big enough to cover a balloon. He soon threw the patent sight aside as
being theoretically fine but practically worthless.
ONE EYE SIGHTING
One eye sighting is distinctly slow, and is not adapted to killing game
that in the nature of its flight is either imperfectly outlined or
rapidly gets beyond range. One eye aiming implies that the instant the
gun comes to the shoulder there shall be a pause in its movement while
the eye adjusts itself to the sight, or, as it is called, finds it.
This focusing the eye upon the sight necessarily dims the vision of the
target, for there is no such thing as the human eye focusing perfectly
both upon the gun sight and the game. Notwithstanding this the target
can be seen, even though it appear shadowy, and the sight may be placed
upon it accurately; indeed, if the game were not moving, or the shot
was directed straight at it, with greater precision than any other way.
But it occurs not infrequently that after you have paused to find the
sight, the opportunity is gone, either the game cannot be seen again or
not quickly enough to cover it before it escapes.
Further, the principle involved in the one eye use of gunsights is that
if they do not perfectly align with the target on the first attempt,
withhold your fire and never pull trigger until _sure_ of your aim.
Naturally this theory of obtaining a second and surer sight when
needful is rarely put in practice in wing-shooting, and if it were the
result would be a pottering inefficiency that would last through life.
The gun-pointing shot doesn’t do things that way, since nothing short
of a house intervening would prevent his shooting exactly on time.
Finding the sights, whether with one or both eyes open, and putting the
focused bead upon the target is beyond question the most accurate way
of aiming a gun, as witness that it has been adopted by all riflemen
who are obliged to do fine holding. The very finest sighting that I
have ever seen done was accomplished with a telescope having a big
leather blinder attached to the rear which entirely covered the left
eye, thus permitting it to remain wide open without seeing anything.
Using a sight of this kind shots can be called within one inch at two
hundred yards. This means that at shotgun range of forty yards, a
sighting error of one-fifth of an inch could be detected; the absurdity
of such close sighting can be noted by recalling that a shotgun pattern
covers at least thirty inches at the distance.
What is required in wing-shooting is no such hair splitting aim, but
that we cover the target with the utmost dispatch and pull on the
instant--not a hundredth of a second sooner or later. Indeed, pulling
a hundredth of a second too soon or the hundredth of a second too late
will make more difference as to where our shot charge lands than any
variation that can occur with the finest sight or no sight at all.
While I am opposed on principle to the novice learning to sight a
shotgun with one eye shut or both eyes open, in fact to _sighting_ the
arm at all, believing that so taught he can never become a first rate
performer on all sorts of game, yet I have seen so much excellent work
in wildfowl shooting by men who closed one eye or who focused on the
sight that I hesitate to say it is not an effective style of firing at
ducks or any bird of large size that is habitually outlined against the
sky. In shooting of this kind the game is often seen while approaching
and allowance can be made for the time required to focus on the sights;
neither is it requisite that the gun be handled with such rapidity as
in upland work.
Success with wildfowl is more due to correct estimates of distance and
speed of flight than to manner of aiming, and since there is never any
question of being able to see the bird, even with half an eye, it is
probable that any system of sighting or pointing the gun can be made
about equally effective.
BINOCULAR SHOOTING--TWO-EYE AIMING
Two-eye aiming, or binocular shooting, has all the advantages of
closing one eye even for rifle firing while a distinctly clearer
view of the target is obtained, and distances can be estimated more
positively. All of us who were taught to close one eye can well
remember that the instant we blinded the left eye to find the sight,
the bird at once appeared to be a great deal farther away. I can recall
that more than once when a boy I have shut the left eye and then
decided that the quail was out of range, after which I opened both eyes
and found it still well within reach.
It is no doubt true that with only one eye a gunner could finally learn
to judge distances as well as though he had the use of both, but when
from birth to age he uses both eyes to see and estimate distances a
million times to where he does once with an eye shut, it reasonably
follows that he will do better work in the style in which he has been
trained even though that training were not with a gun. Therefore we can
take it as a simple statement of fact that with both eyes open we can
the most accurately estimate the distance that game is from us, the
speed of its flight, and the lead necessary in order to kill. Moreover
we can secure equally as fine sight with both eyes open, either with
shotgun or rifle, provided one eye alone governs the line of sight or
is focused upon the sights. This eye is then said to be the master eye
for the reason that the brain pays attention to what it is doing only.
The other eye sees just the same, but of its vision the brain fails to
keep any record.
[Illustration: Binocular shooting, or gun pointing]
Ordinarily it is supposed that the master eye has the stronger vision,
which entitles it to govern, but this does not follow by any means. In
shooting from the right shoulder the right eye controls, not because
its strength is greater, but for the simple reason that the brain has
been _trained_ to register only what this eye sees. It may be the
stronger eye or it may not, and neither would this make much difference
unless its vision were extremely defective while that of the other was
normal. Ninety-nine times in a hundred one eye governs the line of
sight entirely because it has been trained to do this and for no other
reason.
The usual manner of testing the eyes for shooting is to hold up an
object a proper distance from them and align it with a point beyond
while keeping both eyes open. Now close the left eye and if the
alignment doesn’t change, the right eye governs, but if on shutting
the left eye the line of aim swings to the left the wrong optic has
been in control, and the student will have to begin training the right
eye to assume the mastery or learn to shoot from the left shoulder.
Either can be done, but it is much simpler and easier as a rule to
put the brain to making its records from the proper eye. It might be
noted, in passing, that in case of an experienced shot no eye tests are
necessary, for the one with which he has been accustomed to sighting is
certain to govern.
The style of aiming with both eyes open may be exactly the same as with
one closed; that is the gun is brought up and there is a slight pause
long enough for the eye to find the front sight which is then placed
upon the point of aim. The focusing of the eye upon the front sight,
however, will probably not be so sharp as with the left eye shut, with
the consequence that the vision of the game will be less dimmed. The
man accustomed to aiming with one eye closed may find it best to teach
himself to shoot with both eyes open while still focusing upon the
sight after his acquired fashion. However, this is not the favorite
or most effective mode of two-eye aiming. Modern wing-shots have
pronounced in favor of the Carver method.
CARVER METHOD OF GUN POINTING
While this style of shotgun aiming is of modern origin, in fact
originated with Doctor Carver, yet it is the oldest of all systems
of directing a missile. It was used by the rock slingers, the spear
throwers, the dart casters, and was brought to the greatest perfection
by the long-bowmen. Shooting in this fashion an Indian will drive a
penny from between a split stick with half his shots at fifty feet, or
strike a running deer at three hundred, and doubtless the Anglo-Saxon
bowmen were much better shots than any Indian.
Gun pointing was the recognized manner of aiming of all our Western
“bad men” and gun fighters whose gun play was entirely too rapid to
be directed by any description of gun sights. In combined quickness
and accuracy, from foot or horseback, the work of these men has never
been equalled, but their system of shooting is now becoming a lost art
because it was not found the best adapted to target practice. Perhaps
in course of time gun pointing will hold sway in short range shooting
with every variety of firearm, for the military tendency at present is
to encourage rapidity of fire.
Probably it was from the Western gun-fighter that Doctor Carver, a
Western man, got his idea of the correct way of sighting a shotgun.
If the man with the sixshooter could hit nickels thrown into the air,
rabbits running, a man on a galloping horse while himself mounted, or
swing his weapon on a foe with such rapidity that the eye could not
follow the movements, then why couldn’t a man with a shotgun place its
thirty inch pattern upon a flying bird without glueing his eye to
any sights? Carver believed that it could be done, and he showed the
skeptical until everybody was ready to go away and do likewise.
[Illustration: Gun pointing--both eyes open]
Gun pointing has been miscalled instinctive aiming, though in reality
there is nothing instinctive about it. There can be nothing instinctive
in doing a thing that we have learned to accomplish through repeating
a performance thousands of times. It is merely perfecting an art that
we have been acquiring from babyhood, that of being able to point the
finger or something else directly at an object toward which we are
fixedly looking. We might as well say that we write instinctively,
because we give no thought as to what the next stroke will be. In
civilized human beings training takes the place of instinct which is a
very imperfect factor, though it must be admitted that every man has
inherited tendencies.
Shooting a pistol in the old Western way consisted simply in extending
the hand quickly in the direction of the target and pulling on the
instant. This one-hand gun pointing is the most natural method and the
easiest to acquire because we have been at it a good many years before
we ever gripped a gun. Shooting a shotgun differs from it only in that
the _piece is pointed with both hands_ in place of one, and while the
method is more difficult to acquire it is steadier and more reliable,
because with the butt of the weapon at the shoulder and both hands
holding it, we have a firmer control than if the piece were directed
entirely with the one hand. Shooting a shotgun in the Carver fashion,
in its primary principle, is merely training the two hands to point
at the exact spot at which the eyes are looking or the brain directs,
without any lost motion or focus upon sights.
Shooting a revolver in the Western manner, with movement of hand too
fast for the eye to follow, is in reality juggling a pistol, and
muscles and nerves must undergo the same training as those of a juggler
who keeps half a dozen balls in the air with one hand. The wing-shot
who aims by pointing also juggles his weapon in a way, though the
training necessary to do this is not so severe because the movements
are not especially rapid. Nevertheless he undergoes a degree of
training that insures his weapon being aligned automatically or without
conscious effort before he becomes an expert shot. When he has reached
a stage where none of the movements of his piece require conscious
supervision, then they are said to be instinctive, though, as we have
seen, instinct has nothing whatever to do with it, but it is training
pure and simple.
The advantages of pointing a shotgun in place of getting the eye close
down to the barrels and aligning rib and sight are these: Point your
finger at an object quickly, without any effort to sight or closing
an eye, and you will find that while it is directed precisely, yet
nevertheless you are glancing some distance above the finger. Now close
one eye and you will note at once a tendency to drop the head and
_sight_ the finger. The same optical principle applies to pointing and
sighting a gun; under the former system you naturally keep the barrels
well down out of the line of vision, but at the same time direct them
at the object with exactly the same precision as in the other way.
Moreover in pointing a gun by means of a thorough training of the
hands, you are in a measure independent of fit of gunstock. Indeed, in
my own experience and that of others, any gun can be shot accurately
so long as the drop of stock is not so great as to bring the barrels
within the line of sight, or where they will interfere with a clear
view of the target. Correct alignment is not nearly so dependent upon
drop of stock, as it is upon the position of the two hands grasping
grip and fore-end.
For instance, if you are accustomed to a gun that is grasped nearly in
the line of fire, and you then attempt to shoot with one having a deep
fore-end which places the left hand low, or a piece with grip set low
behind the frame, you will at once note a feeling of uncertainty as to
where you are pointing. I should therefore conclude that an accustomed
grip and fore-stock were of as much importance as drop at comb and
grip. Additionally it should be noted that if the hands are to do the
pointing, unassisted by sights, they should grasp the piece well apart,
that is with the left hand extended as far as possible without strain,
and the places where they grip the arm should never vary an iota.
Given a gun that I have grown to with use, I find that I can shoot as
effectively when holding my face several inches from the gunstock,
really not inclining the head toward the stock in the least, but
holding it perfectly erect, some inches above the line of the barrels
and well to one side. I have further dropped my head toward the
left shoulder in place of the right and struck my bird with the
same facility, proving that the hands were accomplishing their work
automatically without regard to the position of the sighting eye with
reference to the line of sight. Dropping the stock low on the shoulder,
or jamming the comb tight against the cheek made not a particle
of difference so long as the automatic action of the hands was not
interfered with by trying to govern them directly by means of the sight.
In gun pointing the sight should never be seen, nor rib, nor barrel,
neither should they be even thought of, for if the eye is permitted
to interfere with the calculation of the brain two bosses of equal
authority are installed with the obvious result that nothing will
be accomplished. In this style of aiming the gun should be swung
methodically, with mechanical uniformity of movement, and the trigger
pressed the moment you _feel_ that the aim is correct. No mystery need
be made of this feeling of being right, for it is merely the signal of
the brain to the nerves that the work has been well accomplished. The
same feeling is in evidence when a baseball pitcher has released a ball
which he _knows_ will split the pan, or when the billiardist or golf
player has made a true stroke.
In gun pointing, long and short barrels can be shot with much less
variation in the holding than when the eye governs the line of sight,
for with the latter method a long sighting plane is a positive
advantage. The hands will do their work with the same facility, be the
barrels long or short, since these are never seen, but length of tubes
is to be preferred for other than sighting reasons, as balance of the
arm, steadiness in swinging to a given point, with reduced recoil, etc.
Relative to the rapidity of shooting under the two systems, when a
rifle is fired the two sights are first placed exactly in a line which
is then directed to the point of aim. Should this line of sight not
cover the target precisely the piece is not discharged but the sights
are swung on again and again before the trigger is pulled; it may take
the rifleman from fifteen to sixty seconds to secure a satisfactory aim
and pull. This sort of aiming is absolutely impracticable in shotgun
shooting for obvious reasons, in fifteen seconds the target might be
two or three hundred yards away.
In some descriptions of wing-shooting, as quail or ruffed grouse in the
woods, the gun is discharged within three-quarters of a second after
the brain has realized that the bird is on the wing; during this length
of time the shooter takes position, brings his gun to his shoulder,
selects the point of aim, directs his piece there, and presses the
trigger. No “second sight” can be obtained under such circumstances,
whatever error the eye may detect at the instant of firing, and
accuracy is absolutely dependent upon the mechanical training of the
hands which direct the gun. By putting the eye and mind upon the
gunsights these can be noted very clearly, but while doing this _the
bird is lost_.
The one advantage in “sighting,” among all its disadvantages, is that
the novice can more readily detect errors in holding. He cannot prevent
the shot he is firing from going wrong, but he may be able to analyze
every movement of his piece and to discover which particular feature
needs correction; for he might be making some mistake with mechanical
regularity and certainty, just as in writing he may produce some
ill formed letter and be quite unable to alter its form except with
deliberate care. Perhaps it is true that a high degree of skill in
gun pointing is the result of a post graduate course in wing-shooting
rather than the A. B. C. of the art.
Now there may be doubt in the mind of the beginner or others as to
whether a shotgun can be pointed accurately enough invariably to place
the pattern upon the target, for it is not claimed that sufficient
precision can be developed for deliberate rifle shooting. With a view
to settling this question the writer made a series of experiments at
twenty yards with a 22 rifle in which the sights had been removed.
With a well balanced rifle, handling like a shotgun, ball after ball
could be placed in a six inch circle, the majority of them going into
four inch. No attempt was made to level or even see the barrel and the
arm was fired with the same rapidity as a shotgun at quail.
In order to be sure that the barrel was not being leveled or sighted,
a blinder was built up on the barrel over the position of the ordinary
rear sight; any attempt to sight over this would have thrown the
bullets two feet high. After a few shots the results were just the same
as before, and so long as the target could be seen the gun could be
pointed there with ample accuracy to kill every bird with a shotgun.
Diagrams are here presented of ten-shot targets made in this fashion
both with the naked barrel and the blinder attached. Of course such
shooting is dependent somewhat upon the skill of the marksman, and so
is any other kind of shooting for the matter of that.
[Illustration: Three ten-shot targets made with a 22 rifle at 20 yards
with a blinder over the rear sight, showing the effect of binocular gun
pointing.]
In some measure every man must be a law unto himself in his work with
a gun. While I use the pointing system of aiming for all game, yet
some of my shooting acquaintances tell me that whereas they can point
very accurately at anything flying near the ground, at birds passing
overhead they have a feeling of uncertainty as to where they are
holding that leads them to prefer aligning the barrels by direct sight
of eye in such work. Doubtless it is all much a matter of training and
habit.
CHAPTER III
SNAP SHOOTING--DELIBERATE SWING--RAPID SWING
AN ANALYSIS AND A COMPARISON
Almost every writer on the topic of field shooting will at some time
mention making a snap shot at a bird, or perhaps covering another and
then swinging ahead before firing. The reader can readily gather from
these essays that snapping is a very prompt way of delivering a shot,
while the swing is both more deliberate and more accurate. It is not
likely, however, that, taught by books solely, the student will ever
be able to fix in his own mind exactly what a snap shot is nor what
constitutes a swinging shot further than that one is discharged in much
the shorter time. Still less will he have grounds for deciding which
particular style of shooting he ought himself to adopt.
The object of this chapter is to analyze these systems of aiming,
making as plain as possible what constitutes a snap shot, what a
deliberate swing, and the difference in principle between a deliberate
and a rapid swing. Simple diagrams and drawings are used to illustrate
with the hope of making the subject plainer to the beginner.
The term “line of swing” will be used frequently in this chapter so it
is well to give an early explanation of its meaning. The accompanying
diagram shows the line of swing. It is the line covered by the
moving gunsights from the time the piece strikes the shoulder or the
sights are caught to where they are pointed when the gun is fired.
The character of this gun movement or sight movement constitutes the
difference in the three styles of gun aiming that we are discussing.
[Illustration: Rough snap, semi-snap, and rapid swing]
Technically, snap shooting has no line of swing, the aim being taken
before the gun is brought up, the sights are thrown directly to the
desired point and the arm is discharged the instant the butt hits the
shoulder. While this is snap shooting proper, it is a very ineffective
manner of firing even at an object at rest, for the reason that when
the butt jams into the shoulder muscles the latter give and then
rebound, causing the gun muzzle to vibrate to such an extent as to
insure a miss except with a very wide spread of pattern. Selecting
a point of aim before the gun is thrown to the shoulder is making a
pretty fine calculation too, it must be admitted; the bird might spring
to the north of you, and without a moment’s hesitation you would have
to know the precise spot to the northwest where the shot charge would
meet it.
Such absolute judgment of speed and angle of flight is next to
impossible, and the experienced gunner never attempts snap shooting in
this fashion except when he perceives that the opportunity to shoot at
all will be so fleeting that it is either a rough snap shot or none.
Impressed with the belief that wing-shooting is merely jerking up the
gun and lamming away, the novice is liable to practice just this sort
of snapping with the result that when he does hit he cannot tell why,
nor give a reason for his misses. The expert who can handle his gun
like a part of himself cannot shoot successfully in this manner, much
less a tyro who is none too sure of the easy shots.
There is another style of snap shooting, however, that is widely
practiced by nearly all clever upland shots. It consists of throwing
the gun close to the game with the motion of bringing it to the
shoulder, but always sufficiently under it. From this point beneath
the target the line of swing travels in a direct course with great
quickness to the place where the gun is discharged, following the line
C-E, shown in the diagram on page 221.
Suppose a grouse has sprung from the brush and is circling to the left
and rising. It has been estimated that a grouse or a quail will be ten
feet into the air before a man’s mind can give his nerves and muscles
any instruction whatever. Then if a rough snap shot were to be made
the gun would be at once flung ahead of the bird and there fired. The
difficulty of making such a shot is obvious. In the first place the
motion of raising a gun to the shoulder is complicated compared with
moving to a given spot after it is up and steady. Moreover in a rough
snap there is never any change of aim from the place the mind estimates
as right. The gun is simply thrown to that place and fired.
Orders have been given which the mind cannot alter if it would, and
even should the bird be killed meantime by another gunner the snapped
piece would be discharged precisely as though the bird were still
flying. Thus we see that the problems confronting the rough snap shot
are: a mechanical inability to jam a gun to the shoulder and shoot to a
given spot, and the extraordinary judgment required to foretell where
the bird will be when the arm is ready to fire.
We have all heard of some snap shots that were as quick as lightning,
and of course if this were literally so the shot could be sent to the
first possible place, but it should be remembered that the man is
probably walking with his gun down, and during the short space of say
half a second he must get his feet into position, make his estimates,
and bring up his gun--meantime the bird will be doing something you may
be sure, covering not less than twenty-five feet. Nevertheless it is
not to be doubted that the quicker the shooter, the lighter his gun,
and the more open his pattern the simpler his problem becomes.
At best, however, shooting in this fashion, an expert could not expect
to connect with more than one bird in three. Knowing this the skilled
wing-shot would never attempt the rough snap except that suppose at the
natural place of aim there was a tree with brush beyond; reaching this
tree the grouse would have been safe so nothing remained but to chance
the lightning snap at the point marked. It follows that the novice
should never deliver a rough snap unless any other kind of an aim is
impossible either because the bird will be out of sight or possibly
out of range. In either of which events it is to be preferred to not
shooting at all.
The second or practical style of snap shooting is much more reliable.
With this method the gun is thrown up below the target; first, that
the view of the game may not be obscured in the least; second, that
time may be given to the gun muzzle to cease its vibrations ere it
covers the point of aim; third, that while the line of swing is moving
steadily yet rapidly to the point where the charge is to go the trigger
finger can be given due warning to pull; fourth, the estimates for lead
and speed of flight are greatly simplified because only taken from the
time the gun is up and not from the rising of the bird. The problem
here is to make the line of aim cross the line of flight of the bird,
and this is comparatively easy.
In its principle rough snap shooting throws the gun to the point of aim
without a line of swing. That of semi-snap shooting is to _intersect_
the line of flight with the line of swing in the shortest and most
direct way. For instance, with some angles of flight the gun might be
thrown too far ahead and then the “line of aim” would be carried back
toward the flying target. Naturally this happens seldom unless the bird
changes his course, the skilled shot endeavoring to throw up his weapon
in such a position that it will only be necessary to lift it straight
to the spot where it will be fired.
The more accurate the judgment of the sportsman as to the bird’s speed
of flight the nearer he will come to throwing his piece to the proper
place with a consequent shorter line of swing and a quicker shot. But
in doing this it should not be forgotten that the line of swing must
always be of sufficient length to steady the gun before it covers the
mark, and to fairly warn the pulling finger. Otherwise you are on the
bird, as they say, “before you know it,” and the result is an almost
inevitable miss. This not infrequently happens with straightaway birds,
where in the nature of things the swing is short, and it is a most
productive and irritating source of misses. Indeed it is an axiom with
veteran field shots that the driving bird requires the steadiest of all
holding.
Successful snap shooting necessitates a very quick and sensitive
trigger. Bear in mind that the line of aim merely intercepts the line
of flight and can only do so at one point, at one instant; any dwelling
upon the trigger, a pressure that comes the smallest fraction of a
second too soon or too late, leads to certain missing. The bird may
be traveling fifty feet a second, the line of swing a hundred feet
a second or more; should the trigger yield the one-hundredth of a
second fast or slow the game will be missed a foot. Any irregularity
of trigger pulling is fatal, and a man who needs a greater time than a
fiftieth of a second to release his trigger had better adopt some other
style of aiming.
Snap shooting or semi-snap shooting is an effective style of aiming
only upon birds that are not changing their angle with regard to the
gun too rapidly--that is upon straightaway or quartering birds. Should
the quarry rise and swing about the gun would inevitably have to follow
it if the piece came up promptly, or a swift-flying fowl might come
in from the right and pass to the left before it could be covered,
with the result that the gun would have to move after and overtake it
before being discharged. This would lead to the third mode of aiming,
technically known as a rapid swing.
In this style the line of aim travels along the line of flight or
preferably takes a parallel course just beneath it for the sake of an
unobstructed view. The working principle of the rapid swing is that
the gun is invariably aligned behind the bird and the “line of aim” is
then swung after it much faster than the bird is traveling, until it
overtakes and passes the moving mark to the point where the charge is
sent.
The strength of this system of gun aiming lies in this: The gun moving
in the path of flight of the game takes the elevation automatically. In
illustration of this, should the bird be rising the line of aim rises
also and will continue to do so after passing the bird, necessarily
striking its mark unless the course of the target alters radically.
Of course an identical rule would apply were the bird descending,
climbing, or taking any other angle of elevation so long as the line of
swing followed the line of flight and passed it the proper distance.
Rapid swing simplifies lead also, for should the line of aim be
traveling three times as fast as the bird flies an estimated lead of
one foot would place the charge three feet ahead of the bird, the gain
being made during the interim of pressing the trigger and the passage
of the shot up the barrel. Moreover it must be borne in mind that now
the line of aim is not intersecting that of flight but traveling with
it, which permits considerable latitude in trigger pulling. Should the
gunner be a trifle quick or slow the charge still being in line will
probably catch the mark with some portion of the pattern.
Almost every skillful wildfowl gunner uses the rapid swing, and many
do so in the uplands as well. Birds with a speed of from sixty to one
hundred miles an hour are entirely too fast to be snapped with any
certainty.
The diagram indicates the difference in lead between a swinging shot
and a snap shot. The bird is supposed to be distant from the gun one
hundred feet, and is traveling at the rate of one hundred feet a
second. The normal velocity of a shot charge over a one hundred foot
course is eight hundred feet a second, and at this velocity it would
require one-eighth of a second for the pellets to reach the mark. In
one-eighth of a second the fowl would fly twelve and one-half feet
which is the theoretical lead necessary for shot and target to connect.
If the line of aim intersects the line of flight at right angles--as in
snap shooting--the full theoretical lead must be taken, and if there
is any dwelling upon the trigger a further allowance must be given.
[Illustration: The difference in lead between a snap shot and a
swinging shot]
But with a swinging shot in which the line of aim travels three times
as fast as the bird, this sighting line will move six feet in the
fiftieth of a second required for a quick man to pull the trigger and
for the passage of the shot up the barrel. Hence we have lead for a
snap shot twelve and one-half feet, lead for a swinging shot six and
one-half feet. In case of the man who requires the maximum length of
time to pull, or six-one-hundredths of a second, a further lead of six
feet would have to be given with a snap shot or a total of eighteen and
one-half feet. No man could make such an estimate.
By consulting experienced wing-shots it will be learned that hardly
any two of them will make the same estimate for the lead necessary to
kill at a given distance; neither theoretically nor practically are
they holding at the same place. In fact with the rapid swing every man
is a law unto himself, the distance he holds ahead being governed by
the rapidity of his swing, his time in trigger pulling, and his habit
of maintaining a uniform gun movement after pressing the trigger. One
shooter might swing rapidly but would check his piece at the moment
of firing and so lose all the advantage of swinging: another would
accelerate the motion of his muzzle at the instant of firing and so
gain more than six feet. The same thing could be done by the individual
of slow trigger, who if he pulled in six-one-hundredths of a second
could actually gain eighteen feet and would not need to make any lead
at all--neither would he hit anything, for it might well be stated now
that a pull of as slow as six-one-hundredths of a second is quite too
slow for wing-shooting.
Nevertheless some of the best duck shots that I have ever known stated
positively that they made no allowance whatever for speed of flight or
distance of the mark further than to merely hold in front and swing.
Watching them at work I arrived at the conclusion that they made the
necessary gain entirely by the rapidity with which they swung--for all
of them moved their pieces very swiftly--and not by any hesitation on
the trigger.
Doubtless the acme of wing-shooting is to be able to swing with such
rapidity and uniformity as to obviate the necessity for any lead, but
it will not do for the novice to attempt to graduate his first year in
school. Indeed the average sportsman never learns to shoot in this way,
neither should he endeavor to do so unless so situated that he can fire
shot after shot days, weeks, and months in succession.
Indeed the swifter the swing the graver the problem of so governing it
that the shot can be placed with sufficient precision to strike the
mark. The neophyte can readily learn this for himself by attempting
to shoot at a stationary mark while swinging the gunsights past
it. Experience soon teaches the gunner about how fast he can swing
successfully, and his endeavor henceforth should be to make this
movement as mechanically uniform as possible, studying carefully the
results which he secures from it.
A semi-snap shot and a rapid swing may readily merge into one another.
The gunner may throw up his weapon with a view to making a snap shot,
but finding the bird has passed his gun he must needs swing after it.
In the same way when intending to place his piece upon the line of the
bird’s flight he might fall below it, being then obliged both to swing
with the bird and to raise his gun to intersect its flight.
The two styles of aiming are readily used in conjunction, also, as in
live pigeon shooting where the shooter ordinarily makes a practical
snap with the first barrel and a rapid swing with the second. A like
system is preferred by the crack field shot who snaps with his first
barrel before the game is at top speed, and then swings on with the
second should he miss. One thing must forever be borne in mind by the
swinging shot and that is never to check the gun when pulling the
trigger.
In upland shooting upon such game as quail, snipe, chickens, partridge,
and woodcock, birds that rise near the gun, nearly every shot can be
taken without any allowance for lead or elevation, it being merely
necessary to swing upon the line of flight past the game and fire with
the result of killing nine birds out of ten which is a pretty good
percentage in any event. The truth is that in such work, especially in
the brush, there is no time to think of allowance for lead, but this
can always be secured automatically by swinging, and therein is the
advantage over any description of snap shot.
There remains to be described the deliberate swing. It fits in with
the old one eye manner of aiming and is becoming antiquated along
with it. With the deliberate swing the game is first covered usually
by throwing the line of sight in front of it, and then moving with the
target, at the proper distance in advance until the trigger is pulled.
The principle involved is to maintain the requisite lead while the
trigger is being pressed, continuing the swing at the same rate until
the charge is out of the gun. In theory this system of aiming is the
most accurate of all, because whether the trigger is pressed instantly
or dwelt upon the pattern will with like certainty reach the desired
lead. For instance if the line of aim is traveling three feet in
advance of the line of flight, which distance is maintained until the
shot are on the way, it cannot matter whether the trigger is pressed in
one-hundredth of a second or six-hundredths.
Obviously with this system of aiming no gain is made by the swing and
the same allowance for speed and distance is required as though the
target was snapped.
The trouble with this mode of aiming is that it develops a very slow,
poky, pottering style. There being no precise moment when the trigger
_must_ be pulled, the gunner almost invariably acquires the ill habit
of dwelling upon the trigger. For this reason the deliberate swing
cannot be used upon any game that is quick in its movements, that
swerves and dodges like a snipe or a quail. Hence such a slow system
of aiming is not adapted to anything except waterfowl or such birds as
are seen approaching and remain within gunshot some time.
I have seen most excellent work upon wildfowl by those who swung
deliberately in front of the target and am ready to believe that the
style can be made very effective upon such birds. In duck shooting
where the birds are passing and have acquired maximum speed it
certainly has the advantage of any sort of snap work.
Nevertheless my advice to the beginner would be to acquire the rapid
swing. It accomplishes everything that can be done with the deliberate
and does it quicker and better, with a minimum of nerve expenditure. It
requires double the expenditure of nerve force to shoot deliberately as
to pull quickly, and no man should endeavor to develop the slow style
unless nature has made him steady and phlegmatic.
CHAPTER IV
PRIMARY LESSONS
Almost every boy with an inborn taste for shooting will have learned
to aim a gun and pull trigger before he becomes old enough to tramp
widely afield or handle a fowling-piece. Emphatically is this true of
the youth so fortunate as to be born in the country. However, there
may be youngsters with the ill luck to be crowded by houses and people
all their lives, with whom the longing to hunt and shoot must be
deferred to more mature years. The city boy, whose instincts, waiting
on opportunity, must needs survive all urban temptations, makes the
most determined and enthusiastic of sportsmen when finally stock and
shoulder fit together. Hungry for the fields and the whistle of birds’
wings, he never gets enough from twenty years to his three score and
ten. With a view to assisting him as much as I may in his first lessons
this chapter is written.
An old disused barn in the country is a great place for preliminary
practice with a shotgun. Secure some large sheets of paper, blacken the
center, and tack them up on the barn. Shoot at twenty yards because at
that distance the pattern will not spread too much to easily observe
its effect. Select very lightly loaded shells for this kind of work,
two and one-half drams of power are enough and lighter loads are better
if they can be procured. Recoil always appears more severe when the
target is stationary, and it takes practice so to hold the weapon
that the arms and hands absorb most of the jar. The object now is to
acquire confidence in yourself and the gun, carefully guarding against
a tendency to flinch which is liable to develop into a most annoying
habit, nearly fatal to good wing-shooting.
A few shots should enable the learner to place his pattern regularly
upon the center of the target. When this can be done with a deliberate
aim begin snapping. Throw the gun quickly to the shoulder, pointed at
the target, and without checking the motion raise it to the center and
fire as you come up. If the trigger fails to yield at the exact time,
take the piece down, throw it up and try again. What you are striving
for in this is a correct trigger pull, the lock working precisely on
time, without any checking the gun for a second sight or any attempt to
hold it still upon the target.
An axiom of shotgun shooting is that the arm is never to be held still
upon anything--in this differing radically from the rifle. The trigger
should be pressed, therefore, without checking the regular rising
movement of the barrels, the pulling and upward movement of the sight
being so well timed that the discharge will take place just before the
center is covered.
Press the trigger, not by any conscious crooking of the forefinger,
but by tightening the grip of both hands, the one pushing forward and
the other drawing back. This is not only the right manner of pulling
trigger on a shotgun, but tightening the grip of the hands enables the
gunner to catch the recoil just as the blow of a fist is warded off
before it gathers momentum.
Having learned to strike the mark with a straight upward snap, as
directed, now begin swinging on from side to side, first from the right
and then from the left. Swing evenly past the target and pull as the
line of sight goes by, being careful not to check up at the moment of
firing. Probably this shooting with right and left swing will need
practice to get the desired accuracy, but keep at it until the charge
regularly reaches its mark. Swing slowly at first, but later increase
the speed until the center can be struck with the piece moving smartly.
Doubtless with a rapid swing a tendency will be noted for the charge
to pass the center of aim, but that can be avoided by pulling quicker
which is one of the things to be learned.
With proficiency, vary the line of swing with every shot, sometimes
coming on from the right, again from the left, then straight up and
quartering. These lessons are the foundation of wing-shooting, so take
plenty of time with them and do not expect to accomplish everything
in one day. Twenty-five shots are enough for one practice since among
other things you must develop nerve force rather than expend it to the
point of exhaustion. Remember that half the people who go afield never
learn to shoot, and a large share of the other spend the remainder of
their shooting days trying to eradicate the bad habits acquired in
early youth.
Being able to strike your target with a gun moving fast or slow, with
the line of sight swinging in every direction except down, you now have
command of the gun and can take up the second problem, exchanging the
stationary for a flying target. Here is where shooting schools are an
advantage since they have a movable target which travels across the
barn at any desired angle, with a rate of speed that can be regulated
from very slow to as fast as a bird flies. The benefit of a flying
target with a background that would instantly show the impact of the
pattern is not to be doubted, faults of holding being detected at
once. However shooting schools are not a very common institution in
this country, though in their place we have the clay bird trap and
artificial targets.
Having access to the grounds of a trap shooting club, go there for
practice. If possible enlist the services of some more experienced
friend who can point out your errors and instruct you as to where
to hold. Stand up close to the trap as you like and take only easy,
straightaway, low flying birds in the beginning, later changing to
quartering targets. Becoming skilled enough to hit these, go out into
the field and have the birds thrown past you at different distances to
one side and the other.
Endeavor to obtain every description of shot that is likely to be
afforded by field shooting. Have the birds thrown while walking up on
the trap with gun down in its ordinary carrying position, and instruct
the trapper to start his bird at unexpected times, even when your back
is turned, when he should of course warn you as the target starts.
A like method should be followed when the gun is out in the field.
Naturally the nearer conditions can be made to approach field shooting
the more valuable the practice. Getting behind the traps, with gun to
shoulder, and shooting at birds always at the same angle of flight
teaches very little except mechanical regularity of performance which
can be acquired at the barn. But rightly used artificial targets can be
made a very beneficial experience.
The English method is to mount the traps in a tower from which the
birds are thrown over the shooter’s head and past him. Such practice
would prove very helpful to the inexperienced duck shot, as it is with
the British driven game. Unfortunately our gun clubs never mount their
traps in a tower or endeavor to teach anything except the making of big
scores. For this reason a man may become an expert at the traps and
yet possess but a trifling amount of skill in the field.
The writer, a country boy, with no clay targets to shoot at, got his
first lessons in pass shooting by means of an arrow-shaped piece of
wood known as a dart. The dart is driven by means of a short stick,
similar to the rod of a fly fisherman, though not so long and limber.
This rod has a short, strong line with a knot in the end which engages
with a notch cut into the dart about one-third from the point; the
dart being cast by means of an overhead swing the same as in throwing
a fly. Our dart can be made of light, cheap wood, from three to five
feet long, with a large, flat head and a broad shank. It can be sent
a distance of one hundred and fifty yards, with a velocity in the
beginning of its flight higher than that attained by any bird.
The object is to strike the broad head of the dart and if the charge
falls back anywhere else along its length the novice knows that he
has not made sufficient allowance for speed and distance. When thrown
rapidly the flight of this projectile is practically level, neither
does it lose velocity so quickly as an artificial clay bird. The dart
can be sent at any desired angle except straight away from the gun.
Practice at the dart is especially good training for flight shooting
at wildfowl, and the boy who has become expert in striking the head of
a shaft traveling a hundred and fifty feet a second will have little
trouble in connecting with ducks or any bird of similar flight. Of
course a good assistant is necessary to this kind of practice, but any
athletic boy will enjoy casting the dart as much as the gunner will
shooting at it.
Shooting at clay birds as they are commonly thrown at gun club meets is
not without benefit to the upland gunner, but the experience avails the
marsh shooter very little; indeed, his acquired habit of holding close
to his birds is very hard to overcome even when he has learned where to
hold. Not so the man who shoots at a dart which may be traveling two
hundred feet a second; he necessarily learns to get out in front--away
out.
A hand trap is a convenience where club grounds and traps may not be
available. They throw the same clay birds as the ground traps, but are
held in the hand which enables the target to be sent in any direction.
Good practice can be made by having the assistant throw the bird at
unexpected times when both are walking along. The shooter thus learns
to be alert, promptly bringing up his gun to take the bird that rises
without warning. The trapper may walk behind and send his target past
the gun, or even be hidden by hedge and cover in which case he should
call sharply when starting the bird.
Keep up the snapping and swinging practice at the stationary target, at
the clay birds, and the dart until expert. It will teach you just as
much as getting out into the field and banging away at non-game birds,
which is a very unsportsmanlike thing to do as will be discovered
should it ever be attempted in the presence of a veteran bird hunter.
Besides shooting song birds is generally forbidden by law.
In all this time do not forget that your endeavor is to make the gun
a sort of third arm that will point anywhere you wish as readily as
the hand can be thrown in that direction. When no other practice is
available, take up the gun in your room or back yard, and placing some
empty shells in the chambers, exercise your pointing skill by throwing
the piece up quickly, covering some object and pulling the triggers.
This is a very valuable drill, alike beneficial to the tyro and the
expert. Indeed you can hardly get too much of it, only do not be
careless with the work but put heart into it. We have all laughed about
the Englishman who raises his walking stick to sight every bird that
flies past, but really the Briton is right, for there is horse sense in
just that kind of practice.
In your target shooting at the barn you may discover that the firing
can be accomplished with greater precision by stopping the gun at
the exact instant of pressing the trigger, but do not allow that to
influence you or change your scheme of pulling trigger with a moving
gun. A dangerous habit may become fixed, one that will have to be
overcome later when it is found necessary for the arm to keep pace with
the swiftest flying game. Furthermore there is the second barrel to be
remembered.
The barn is also a convenient background in training to acquire second
barrel habits. The right use of the second cartridge is to have it
follow the first invariably where the first barrel has crippled or
missed, unless two birds have sprung at once and you expect to make a
double. When this is the case make no pause to observe the effect of
the first shot but continue the swing of the tubes until they cover the
second target.
Put up two targets on the barn for second barrel practice, placing them
at first on a horizontal line about twenty feet apart. Fire at the
right hand target and without stopping the swing cover the second mark
and shoot again. You will shortly learn in doing this that some time
is required to recover from the recoil of the first shot, and the gun
will be thrown out of line. But utilize this time in moving onto the
second bull’s-eye which should be sighted as soon as the piece is under
control and moving steadily again.
As the practice continues change the position of the targets, sometimes
shooting at the right hand first and again at the left; then place
one above the other at different angles and various distances apart.
Quicken the time as you become expert until not over a half a second is
required to get onto the second, pull, and shoot. A lightning second
barrel shot can swing on with his second barrel and shoot accurately
in a quarter of a second, which quarter second time is the standard of
rapidity which the novice should set for himself.
The barn with large sheets of paper will indicate results of this rapid
swinging fire more definitely than any live or clay birds, so continue
this work until results are perfect, quick time being uniformly
maintained with absolute accuracy. Keep the piece swinging after the
second shot the same as the first.
After the practice I have described the novice should have little
trouble in connecting with a certain number of birds, either in the
uplands or marsh, the first time he goes afield. There is no greater
difficulty in placing the pattern upon a quail than in striking the
clay target, except for the added excitement caused by whirring wings,
and the anxiety to make a good showing.
Overanxiety to appear well or show shooting skill to your companion
is a fruitful source of missing, not only by the beginner, but by
the older hand alike. Indeed if overanxiety and flinching could
be eliminated the majority of us would do fifty per cent. better
execution. It is well therefore for the student of wing-shooting to go
afield with a veteran shot in securing his first experience, one that
cannot be considered in any sense a rival gunner, but who is anxious to
see that his young friend performs well rather than to display his own
skill. If such companionship and instruction are unavailable, then go
alone and study out the problems in your own way.
Be very careful not to quicken the time you have been acquiring, but
rather shoot more deliberately, remembering that any bird you fire at
so quickly as not to be able to recall where the gun was held is simply
a lost opportunity, no matter whether the bird was killed or missed.
The only method of acquiring a solid foundation for future success, is
to make your mental calculations quickly and then use your gun to prove
your judgment. In plainer phrase do not shoot until you have first
decided where to hold, and then put the charge right there with all the
skill you possess, making a mental memorandum of every move the bird
made, the gun processes necessary to cover him, and the results.
Do not be hurried because your companion is quickest, for every human
being learns to walk before he can run. You could not reasonably expect
to solve problems in mathematics as readily as a college professor, and
take my word for it wing-shooting is no less difficult than mathematics.
Do not let misses disturb you, for in the beginning as much can be
learned from missing as from hitting, since you have at least been
taught where not to hold. The man who cannot learn through his mistakes
will never know a great deal, but be sure to analyze errors thoroughly,
and know reasons, otherwise experience and practice will leave you
about where you started.
It is a fortunate thing for the earnest young sportsman that his mind
is impressionable and his memory most tenacious. I can clearly recall
the shots that I made twenty-five years ago; just how the bird broke
cover, the course of his flight, where the gun came to the shoulder,
how much it led when the trigger was pulled, the very weed that the
bird struck as he fell, even the clumps of feathers, sifting down, are
still before me. Opportunity and circumstances being similar, I could
again repeat the shots in the same old way. None but the young could be
impressed so graphically, and no others learn with such ease.
It is not necessary that the student should possess such memory,
however, but the moment a shot is fired every detail should be fixed
in his mind. The better to do this make a systematic mental diary.
Here the bird arose so many paces from the gun, he was at this point
when the weapon came up, he bore away from the shooter at an angle
of forty-five degrees, slightly rising; the gun came up just so much
behind him, and he flew so many yards before being covered and fired
upon with a lead of two feet; result a kill. Try to recall the exact
position of the flying target when the mental estimate for lead was
made, and if the bird flew farther than you think he should before
being shot perhaps the cause can be detected. Remember that a lesson is
of no value after it is forgotten and do not forget.
The very first thing to be recorded after the mind recovers from
the strain of firing is to note where the gun is then pointed. It
should swing right along on the path of the bird’s flight, and if
involuntarily checked at the shot, that is something to be studied and
corrected. The average shot never learns to continue his swing upon the
line of flight after the bird is dead, but be ambitious to do what the
average man cannot.
At the close of the day’s shooting, take your mental diagrams and
write them all out on paper. Mark upon the sheet where the bird rose,
where you stood, and every evolution of target and gun as previously
directed. Study these diagrams and fix in your own mind why you killed
and why you missed. If the shot was a scratch or accidental write that
down, for many such shots are made in the course of a season, and these
daily diagrams are intended for future study.
If you failed to hit give that drawing especial attention, marking the
place where you should have held. When at a loss as to where the shot
should have been directed, probably your shooting friend can set you
right. Above all do not again hold for the exact spot that previously
resulted in a failure, unless you can prove to your own satisfaction
that the miss resulted from other causes than faulty lead.
If the gunner cannot recall his point of aim at the instant of firing
that is something for grave study. It may be that his line of aim is
swinging so fast that it is impossible to govern it; he really cannot
tell where he is aiming at any precise moment from the time the weapon
comes to the shoulder until it is discharged. Again perhaps it is a
case of unconscious flinching, and this is always to be suspected where
the shooter cannot _see_ where his shot has gone.
I can only repeat again, use the utmost care not to make the same
mistake in a like way. Study and analyze, and your hits will soon
teach you to kill, while your misses will tell you how not to miss
again. When desirous of showing well, learn to select the bird that you
know how to kill, the one that is easy for you, be it straightaway,
left quarterer, or what not. But if simply desirous of improving your
shooting, let the easy birds go and choose only the hard ones, those
that you miss frequently.
Do not permit any overweening desire to appear easy and graceful
influence you, but shoot every shot with all your might. Put strength
into the work first, and by and by grace will take care of itself. You
are out to develop nerve force, and the only way to do that is to use
what you have; rather than fire a shot indifferently, quit altogether.
Nerve force can be developed by using it just the same as muscles are
strengthened by being exercised.
CHAPTER V
SOME SHOOTING PSYCHOLOGY
SECOND BARREL SHOOTING--THE EFFECTS OF RECOIL, FLINCHING,
CONCENTRATION, SELF-CONFIDENCE
Perhaps the greatest weakness of the average field shot lies in his
use of the second barrel. From my observation only the odd man can
place his second charge with prompt accuracy, this being particularly
true of clay bird performers who from habit fire but one barrel. The
observation applies with equal force to the ordinary sportsman, not
one in ten of whom has a deadly second barrel. Having faithfully
endeavored to ascertain the reasons for this, I will briefly set forth
my conclusions.
The best second barrel shots that I have seen were men trained to
live pigeon and wildfowl work, varieties of shooting more generally
practiced twenty years ago than to-day. Live bird shooting at the traps
is now generally forbidden by law, and the fowl are not distributed
so widely as they once were. The pigeon shooter commonly fired both
barrels at every bird, often for the sake of safety, when the second
charge was really not necessary to kill. The distance he was placed
from the traps, from twenty-eight to thirty-three yards, made it
imperative that he send in his loads with the utmost dispatch, a quick
half snap with the first and a rapid swing on with the second barrel.
Then, too, under some rules the boundary was so short that the bird
must be killed in the fraction of a second or it might fall out of
bounds.
Trained to such conditions the pigeon shot cracked in his second barrel
involuntarily, without a second thought or the least delay to verify
the effect of the first charge. A hundred or even a thousand dollars
might depend upon that second barrel driving in true and fast, the man
who could not learn to place it in a quarter of a second soon dropping
out of the game.
Though the shooting was from unknown ground traps, it was nothing
unusual for a fast bird to be caught within twenty feet of where he
sprang, and should the first charge fail the second would follow ere
the pigeon had gone five yards farther.
Such rapid work as this is not absolutely essential on game,
nevertheless it is the standard of excellence which the field sportsman
should endeavor to attain. The gunner who cannot deliver his second
charge in from a quarter to a half second after the first will not find
it to avail him much, and as a rule will fall into the common habit of
letting the bird go after it has escaped the first pattern.
The wildfowl hunter is a good second barrel man also, and equally with
the pigeon shooter from habit. These birds often fly in flocks which
necessitates the use of both barrels; additionally many single ducks
are struck without being killed outright which demands the use of the
second barrel before the fowl can reach the water and dive. While the
wildfowler is not so sharp as the pigeon shot about pulling either his
first or second load he is no less accurate and positive about it. Like
the man of the traps, he knows before his piece comes to the shoulder
that both barrels are to be fired, and hence there is never a delay to
note what the first charge has accomplished.
The general run of upland shots go at the matter differently. Almost
invariably they seem to believe that the first barrel will surely kill,
the immediate brain impression when they see the bird still going on
being one of surprise; recovering from this, they either fire the
second barrel so quickly as to practically have no aim, or a slow,
pottering second is sent in after the target is out of range. Either
the unaimed or the pottering second charge is so generally ineffective
that the gunner soon comes to depend entirely upon his first load.
Here is the trouble so far as I can analyze it. If the second barrel is
to do perfect execution, the brain must complete its work _before the
first shot is fired_. There is absolutely no time to think between the
first and second shots, the mind barely retaining sufficient control
to prevent the shot going in when the bird is unquestionably a dead
one. Indeed in the case of pigeon shots, the barrel might be delivered
involuntarily whether the bird were dead or alive, this not altogether
for safety as has been supposed, but rather because the finger was
predirected to pull and there was no time to think or to stop it.