Growing up in rural Montana – about 10 miles north of Helena, the capital city, neighbors had horses, dirt road, cactus in the back yard – we were introduced to guns fairly early in life. I think I skipped the “you’ll shoot your eye out!” bb-gun that many friends were getting and moved on to a pump-action single shot pellet-gun around the age of 8.
After losing interest in killing things for a while, I decided at about 16 that I should take up hunting. I killed a deer. I gave up hunting.
Then I got into trap shooting, joined the ATA (Amateur Trapshooting Association, a kinder, gentler version of the NRA), and toured the state with my dad winning little 1oz silver coins (now worth about $36 each, yay) and other oddities. And then college hit and it’s been about 10 years since I’ve really shot much. But now, back in Montana visiting family, I’ve picked it up again. Family.
File under “ya never know.”