T F Coyote
08-01-2005, 10:11 PM
I am an officer with an Orange County police department (I won't state which as it is a very liberal town and would not approve of my activites), and I'm also one of our department's range masters. Our shooting range is in a small canyon just above downtown, and there are lots of rabbits and quail in the surrounding hills.
Today was a range day, and as I was unlocking the gate, I saw two rabbits 15 feet away doing their "if-I-just-stand-still-this-guy-won't-see-me" thing. I quickly grabbed the.22 revolver I brought to play with. One rabbit jumped into the bushes while the other ran another 15 feet and did the "stand-still" thing again.
I raised the revolver and fired, but with its tiny sights and two-inch barrel, I didn't shoot well (I'm generally a good shot otherwise). Shots one and two both wizzed past the bunny and hit the dirt next to him (or her, I'm not picky), but it didn't move. It started to run as I fired number three--miss. Just as it was reaching the bushes, shot number four entered its skull and it stopped instantly. Since the first two shots were misses while the rabbit stood still and watched me shooting at it, I can only attribute the fourth shot hitting a running target as being LUCK.
As I was retrieving my trophy, my fellow range master was arriving and he pointed out another rabbit. That one only let me miss once before it was gone.
This was probably the largest cottontail I've ever taken, therefore I'm pretty sure it was a buck. I quickly skinned and gutted the rabbit as the first three shooters of the day were arriving. One was appalled; the other two were mildly impressed.
Anyway, I was squatting there in the bushes, with bloody, gloved hands and a bloody knife, quickly making the small mammal look more like a small chicken, when it hit me: I was on the clock at time and a half--roughly $57 dollars an hour, before taxes. And a smile crept across my face.
YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK.
(The rabbit now resides in a ziploc in my fridge, marinating in Thai peanut sauce.)
Today was a range day, and as I was unlocking the gate, I saw two rabbits 15 feet away doing their "if-I-just-stand-still-this-guy-won't-see-me" thing. I quickly grabbed the.22 revolver I brought to play with. One rabbit jumped into the bushes while the other ran another 15 feet and did the "stand-still" thing again.
I raised the revolver and fired, but with its tiny sights and two-inch barrel, I didn't shoot well (I'm generally a good shot otherwise). Shots one and two both wizzed past the bunny and hit the dirt next to him (or her, I'm not picky), but it didn't move. It started to run as I fired number three--miss. Just as it was reaching the bushes, shot number four entered its skull and it stopped instantly. Since the first two shots were misses while the rabbit stood still and watched me shooting at it, I can only attribute the fourth shot hitting a running target as being LUCK.
As I was retrieving my trophy, my fellow range master was arriving and he pointed out another rabbit. That one only let me miss once before it was gone.
This was probably the largest cottontail I've ever taken, therefore I'm pretty sure it was a buck. I quickly skinned and gutted the rabbit as the first three shooters of the day were arriving. One was appalled; the other two were mildly impressed.
Anyway, I was squatting there in the bushes, with bloody, gloved hands and a bloody knife, quickly making the small mammal look more like a small chicken, when it hit me: I was on the clock at time and a half--roughly $57 dollars an hour, before taxes. And a smile crept across my face.
YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK.
(The rabbit now resides in a ziploc in my fridge, marinating in Thai peanut sauce.)