Sighting In

Part of the fall ritual was hunting for deer.

Both Mom and Dad would usually get tags for the hunt. That way, they could get two deer and that would make our winter meat supply just that much more abundant. If Mom didn't get her deer (unlikely), Dad would have a chance at two. And vice versa. When Mom went hunting she was in it for real. She wasn't there just to cook and read a book. Her 32 Winchester special was her gun - not one of Dad's. Dad had a 30-30 Winchester. Both were lever action.

But this memory isn't about Mom. It is about Dad and Grandpa Wheeler.

Grandpa Wheeler was a bookish man, but he had a shotgun and a 9 mm rifle in his closet. When he and Grandma were away I would often go into that closet and look at both the shotgun and the rifle. They were bolt action, but I am not certain of the manufacture (perhaps Remington). I had never seen Grandpa use those guns - ever.

One Saturday morning in late September or early October (it may have been 1962 or 1963), Dad and Grandpa went up to the sand pit just east of the house. Dad had a couple of pieces of sheetrock on which were painted some rings to make targets. Both of them had their rifles.

Dad put the targets up against the sand about 100 yards away and walked back to where Grandpa, Joe and I were standing. He stood up with his 30-30 and fired several shots. Each one as I remember hit the target, but not exactly where he wanted it. So he adjusted, and fired again. This time he was satisfied.

Grandpa got down into a sitting position. He took his 9 mm and fired a couple of times. As I recall, each shot was nearly dead on in the centre of the target. He didn't fire again.

I don't remember if Grandpa went hunting with Dad that year, but he certainly could have. He was an awesome shot, even next to Dad who wasn't half bad.