Yup. That's me. And that's a rifle. A real rifle.

I have been debating on whether to post about this and whether to include any pictures, and have decided to just be controversial, go balls out and put it out there.

I shot guns. A bunch of them.

Our very sweet volunteer coordinator, P.D. — who coos at bobcats, wears socks with sandals, is very educated and in touch with his sentimental side — owns, carries and shoots a lot of guns. He lives on a beautiful desert property that includes a big pit with two old, beat-up refrigerators and fire extinguishers he uses for target practice. We were invited over on one of his days off to give it a shot.


Chris took the opportunity last time she was here and this time to get experience handling and shooting a rifle. She hopes to do remote field work and being able to handle arms (for protection from large predators) is often a job requirement. She did awesome. No grizzly or lion would dare even try for a nibble.


As for me, well I would be surprised if I ever applied for a position that asked for firearms experience. They generally haven't been shown to be good communications tools (though some may argue the contrary). I went along because it was a likely once-in-a-lifetime chance to know what it feels like, in a safe environment.

I actually expected that my comfort with guns would diminish rather than get better with the experience. And I was right. Save for one little unexpected happening - for a moment there, despite myself, I had fun. Getting the bullet where you aim it feels good. Staying steady when the rifle almost knocks your shoulder practically out of its socket feels good. Not being scared or too intimidated feels good.

The first shot was bad. Louder and stronger than you expect, and my aim was atrocious. But as the afternoon progressed, I got the hang of it and gained confidence. Confidence is important when shooting guns. Nervous is the last thing you and the people around you want to feel.

I had one very uncomfortable moment with the tinee-tiny Laura Croft thigh-holster gun. I didn't think it was an automatic and just squeezed the trigger again after the first shot assuming nothing would happen. It went off. My heart almost stopped and I realized fully how dangerous these things are. They can kill people. Like, for real. After that, I was uneasy for a while.

Then I shot a massive revolver with a kick-back so strong that I had to watch the butt of the gun didn't hit my forehead. Once I got the hang of that gun I found myself hitting the targets, really getting into it and wanting to just keep shooting.

The following picture (and the video I will not post) gives me the willies. I'm sorry if it does for you too. But I do look like I could be Indiana Jones' fearless sidekick...

After I stepped back and thought about it, I felt sick. I don't want guns to be something to enjoy. And I could see how people get into them. I could see how I could get into them. I am in favour of hunting for food and have no problem with registered rifles designed for hunting or protection in the depths of the Amazon, but having guns people can buy and own that are designed to kill people is something I am very uncomfortable with. And I don't know how I feel about having shot some.

P.D. talked about it for a bit and it was obvious he fully supports the right to bear arms. He carried a concealed gun in Houston all the time. He told us that in every state that implemented laws allowing concealed weapons (40 in total) the crime rate has gone down. Every one. I suppose his philosophy and logic is well-meaning, but I just can't handle the idea that you can be walking around your grocery store and people around you can be carrying deadly weapons.

P.D. with his holster and I with my wee lady gun.

And I had to wonder on the repercussions for Canada. If the US didn't have such a strong gun culture, people who want to do bad things may have better access to guns because of cross-border smuggling. But who knows, I'm just making stuff up with no information.

After we were finished shooting, we had some cokes and went and looked at the bobcat kittens. A nice way to get warm and fuzzy feelings back.

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Well, I feel better now that it's all out in the open. I certainly don't think I'll jump at the opportunity to shoot guns again, but I don't regret going out that day. And it did help me unload some pent up anger at the evil refrigerator industry...