My dad loved guns and wanted us boys to also. He was adamant that we learned everything there was to know about guns if we were going to handle them. How to take them apart and clean them. How to reload ammunition (both center-fire and shot-shells). How to preserve them in good condition to maintain their value. He instructed that we always treat a gun as though it were loaded, never pointing it anywhere except in a safe direction. Dad was a real marksman with a pistol, and he taught us well how to aim and squeeze the trigger not just with your finger, but by tightening the grip of your whole hand. With a shotgun he taught us how to raise your right elbow so that the stock would be pushed into your cheek. This brought your eye perfectly onto the sight line of the gun’s ventilated rib. Dad also instructed that when following the target in flight you never stopped after pulling the trigger. By continuing to follow the bird you would assure a smooth trigger pull and naturally lead the target. He taught us how to shoot a rifle, both with open sights and a scope. The scope was much easier and I preferred that method, especially for long-range shots. My first rifle was a Marlin 30-30 carbine with a raised scope that allowed you to also use the iron sights underneath. This was a great deer rifle in heavy brush.
Growing up it seems I always had a gun in my hand (as did my brother and our friends) if I wasn’t playing football or baseball. We loved to shoot .22 rifles or pistols and would accept most anything as a target. In the fields or woods you could normally find the odd bottle or can to set up on a log for a target. The college dump was like nirvana for these activities. Not only were there all sorts or artificial targets (no recycling in those days), there were also both rats and grackles to provide moving targets.
This was all great practice for the times we spent afield after legal game.
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