David E. Petzal - The Gun Nut

This has nothing to do with guns.

One of the very, very few advantages of getting old is that you can remember how things used to be, and if you can remember that, the present doesn’t seem to be quite so grim. As Christmas 06 slouches toward Bethlehem waiting to be born, The End seems nigh. We can’t solve any of our problems, we are led by fools and worse, and the good old days seem very far away indeed.

Well, let me tell you about the good old days; in particular, Christmas of 1957. This was during the Cold War, and the U.S.S.R had just put the first two satellites into orbit, Sputnik One in September, and Sputnik Two in November. What this meant was that not only did the Rooskies have the H-Bomb, they had ICBMs to deliver it to us, and all our rockets could do was crash and burn on the launching pad.

You want to talk fear? I can tell you we were scared but good. The fear was so pervasive that on its Christmas-week cover, Newsweek magazine printed these words:

“And the angels spoke unto them, saying ‘Be not afraid…’”

We lived through it, and we got our own rockets, and despite some close calls, we did not put an end to mankind.

And we may survive this, too.

Merry Christmas from the Gun Nut.

(Being a collection of gun-related items, running more or less weekly, that proves The End is near.)

Portsmouth High School, in Portsmouth, RI, refused to use a yearbook photo of a student dressed in chain mail and carrying a sword. According to the school, the photo was not in keeping with its zero-tolerance policy toward weapons.

The school mascot is a Revolutionary War soldier carrying a musket.

The unsung hero of this blog is a young man named Nate Matthews, who not only runs the Gun Nut, but the entire Field & Stream and Outdoor Life websites as well. He puts things up and takes things down, and is the one who decides when a rant has run its useful life.

He also suggests rants, and this morning he came up with the idea of my picking the top five of the year.

“P**s off,” I said, filled with yuletide cheer, “you want it, you do it.” And by crackey, he did. Here are Nate’s Five Favorites, with short comments by myself. To paraphrase Tiny Tim,

“God help us. God help us, every one.”
 
1. What Gun Would You Use To Kill A T-Rex?
It will probably turn out in the face of future paleontological research that T-Rex was a veggie eater who knitted comforters and attended church regularly. Killing one would be like blasting the Easter bunny. T-Rex was around for something like 40 million years, but we will be lucky if we last another 40 (years) as a species.

“‘Cheer up sad world,’ it said, and winked. ‘It’s kind of fun to be extinct.’”— from Carnival of the Animals

2. A Not-So-Sad Farewell To The Crocodile Hunter
This generated more comment than any other rant and caused lots of people to lust for my blood. I’m sorry Steve Irwin died, and sorry for his wife and kid, but he should have realized that it was time to grow up.
 
3. The Gun Nut Challenge
A gratifying number of you (7,500) took the quiz, but entirely too many of you got entirely too many correct answers. So next time, no more Mr. Nice Guy. If you want to get a perfect score on Quiz Number Two (coming soon), you’ll have to be John Moses Browning.

4. How To Write An Anti-Gun Editorial
Just trying to be helpful.
 
5.  The Death Of Winchester
This was my very first post, and not much has changed. The Model 70 and the Model 94 are still defunct, and despite much rushing about and optimistic dithering about reviving it, Winchester’s New Haven plant is equally dead. I’ve been told by multiple sources that Browning will be announcing a Model 70 made in Japan by Miroku, but Browning denies it.
 
Anyway, that’s the best for this year. If you don’t like them, write in your comments to Nate and tell him you lust for his blood.
 
Editor's Note: Hey, at least he didn't give out my address.

“America is a nation of laws…poorly written and randomly enforced.”
—Frank Zappa
 
Here’s one for you to debate: On December 10,  The Journal News, a newspaper that covers downstate New York, published an article on the handgun-permit system in three counties. The system, it seems, is a shambles, relying on outdated records-keeping methods and a lack of communication among various government agencies rendering the whole enterprise ineffectual. The most serious flaw, according to the article, is that when handgun owners die the permit bureaus are not notified of their deaths, and so thousands of their files pertain to deceased persons, and the agencies have no idea what became of their guns.

All of this is quite accurate. However, as part of the article, the Journal News published a URL where its readers could download a Microsoft Excel file containing the name and town of residence (actual addresses were omitted) of every handgun-permit holder in Westchester County (including myself).

Now there are several points of view about this:
It may or may not be an outrageous invasion of privacy.
It’s a terrific way of informing criminals where they can go to steal handguns.
It’s a terrific way of warning criminals which households to stay out of if they don’t want to get shot.

I was curious about the reasoning behind publishing the website, and e-mailed the paper. I received a reply from Jorge Fitz-Gibbon, one of the two reporters who did the piece. It said, in part:

“…The list serves as a database to be checked and purged by readers and/or officials. In addition, it was the belief among editors at the Journal News that many in their community would consider it a public service to know who among their neighbors and/or acquaintances has a weapon in their home, including parents making personal choices about play dates for their children, etc. (my Italics)

“The licensing and upkeep of pistol permits is also a public process carried out by public employees whose salaries and services are funded by the tax dollars of all citizens. It is therefore deemed by state lawmakers to be a public record….

“As a member of the media yourself, I am certain you are aware of both the newspaper’s right to publish the information and the responsibility shown in editing the public record to omit home address…”

Gentlemen, your opinions, please.

A recent issue of Sports Afield Magazine ran an unusual piece about elephant “hunting” in Africa, in which the pachyderms are  shot with a dart gun. This follows the current fad for darting white rhinos and posing with the doped-up beasts as they sleep off their nembutol, or whatever it is.

Ted Kerasote, who wrote the article (titled “The Green Hunt”), was enthusiastic about the practice, as it allowed you to “hunt” elephants without killing them. Well, OK, if it makes his liver quiver. The only problem I have with the whole business is that it’s not hunting. To illustrate this, let’s look at a couple of other pursuits.

The object of professional boxing is see to who can pound the stuffing out of whom. Olympic boxing, on the other hand, counts only the number of punches landed, and goes to some lengths to make sure that no one is inconvenienced by an authentic ass-whipping. That is the reason it’s followed by so many with such rapt boredom. Can anyone name an Olympic boxing champion in any weight division since Sugar Ray Leonard won gold in 1976?

And then there is bullfighting, which is not considered a sport by its fans but a form of theatre, the object of which is the demonstration of courage in the face of death. Take the death out of it and all you have is a guy in tights embarrassing both himself and a bull in a stadium full of people.

Hunting, and especially the hunting of dangerous game, is about life and death. If you try to kill an elephant there is always the chance he will kill you, and the death of one of you is what gives the enterprise its meaning.  If you yearn to stick a needle in the rump of some poor elephant, by all means do so, but don’t file the activity under “hunting.” It ain’t.

Bill Heavey and I regularly exchange nasty e-mails; he is a querulous and testy fellow who does not always write in English, but what the hell, he’s a colleague and I am obliged to answer. Anyway, on a particularly bad morning when two of his five remaining hairs came out in the brush he told me about a big deer he had killed with a bow after a long stalk, and compared this with my shooting animals thousands of yards distant. The implication was that he was a real hunter and I was a mere technician who is carried by his equipment. Now Bill is an amusing writer, but he is the small dust of the balance, and I don’t care an assful of ashes if he thinks poorly of me. However, his testy e-mail caused me to reflect on the past season and see just how I took what I did.

It goes like this:
Alaska moose, one shot, offhand at 60 yards
Black bear, one shot, offhand at 40 yards
Whitetail buck, one shot out of a tower stand at 160 yards
Whitetail buck, one shot offhand, 70 yards

I draw two conclusions from this: In the real world, we usually shoot at game at 100 yards or less. It may be fashionable to buy equipment that will let you hit targets on Saturn, but in real life, things rarely work out that way. Practice that offhand position. It ain’t easy, but by crackey, it sure comes in handy. Sometimes—if fact, quite often, you gotta stand on your hind legs like a fully evolved primate and pull the trigger.

According to The New York Times of December 8th, New York City Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg has coerced (via lawsuit) six out-of-state gun dealers into allowing court-monitored supervision of their operations. These dealers are allegedly among 27 dealers who are alleged major sources of handguns used in crimes in New York.

But if the mayor is really interested in the safety of his citizens, he must also deal with an armed, dangerous group that periodically runs amok in his city. Am I talking of drug dealers? Biker gangs? No, I’m referring to New York’s Finest, who sometimes seem unable to remember their training when the lead is flying.

Bashing cops is not my intent. I simply think that they could use assistance in their dangerous work, and I’d like to suggest two steps that might provide it.

First, every undercover police operation should be accompanied by an officer from Internal Affairs and an attorney, preferably from the American Civil Liberties Union. These two-person units would be called Fusillade Management Teams, and their job would be to monitor each armed engagement, making sure that that the people being shot at are actually shooting back, and that no one officer fires more than good taste dictates.

Second, I think that every police sidearm should have a three-shot limiting device installed in it. The Army did this with the M-16 A1 rifle, preventing trigger-happy troops from burning through a whole 30-round magazine with one pull of the trigger. Thus, an NYPD officer would fire three shots and his automatic would lock open, giving him time to reflect on the department’s stated policy that its cops are supposed to fire only three rounds and re-evaluate the situation before re-commencing fire.

Anyway, that’s my proposal. No need to thank me. I’m just a concerned citizen trying to do his civic duty.

This happened to a friend of mine whom I will call Ernest because that is not his name. Anyway, Ernest is returning from Edmonton to Austin via Denver, on Air Canada (which is pretty ominous right there), has cleared both U.S. Customs and security in Edmonton, and has upgraded to first class. The doors are about to close when an Air Canada functionary accosts him and asks if he is the gentleman traveling with the firearm. Ernest says yes, he is.

“Well then,” says the AC person, “would you mind giving me the key to your case? It needs ADDITIONAL SCREENING.”

“Why?” asks Ernest. “It’s already been checked twice.”

“I don’t know [Independent research shows that these three words are used more by airline employees than any others] sir, but we can’t take off until the screening is performed.”

Well, now the other passengers are starting to turn and stare, and their expressions are not supportive, so Ernest turns over the key and says can he please get it back before takeoff because it’s the only one he has. Of course, says the AC person, who then departs for who knows where.

And so a few minutes elapse, and the doors close, and the plane backs out of its gate, and there is no AC person and no key. And Ernest is now sweating—pardon the expression—bullets. In fact, he is so unhinged that he asks the flight attendant to speak to the pilot and ask him what the hell, but there is no help on that end, either.

And so they finally land in Austin, and the pilot, to his great credit, accompanies Ernest to the baggage claim to find out what the hell, and before you know it, there is Ernest’s gun case on the conveyor belt with the key taped to the handle in direct violation of every FAA, TSA, or Canadian regulation I’ve ever heard of.

Ernest wants to file a complaint with the FAA, but thinks that a) it wouldn’t do any good; and b) his name would be placed on a watch list. He still has no idea what the ADDITIONAL SCREENING was about, and will never know.

This rant was inspired by Mike, who put four shots in a grizzly even though the first one was perfect. His guide gave him exactly the right instruction—on any dangerous-game animal, you keep shooting until there is no sign of life. More than one hunter has ended up in the obituaries after firing one “perfect” shot and letting it go at that.

And I’d take it one step beyond that. If you have an animal down, and dying, you shoot it again and end its suffering. There is nothing worse in the sport than watching someone stand over a creature that is expiring and refusing to fire a second, merciful shot because he wants a one-shot kill.

There is only one thing you can decently do if you have an animal down—end it. Right now. Even if it spares the creature only a few seconds of suffering, you are obliged to pull that trigger.  Sorry to preach, but I have seen a number of very bad sights over the years and they all involved some poor animal writhing in pain for the sake of some “hunter’s” ego.

Let me preface this by saying that I have endless respect for hunter-safety instructors and the work they do. We all owe them a debt that can never be adequately repaid.

That said, I’ve noticed over the years that we seem to have an unusual number of safety nazis in the ranks of our readers. These are the folks who say that you never, ever do thus and such because it might possibly be unsafe, and if you suggest anything to the contrary, you are a yahoo and a menace.

Now, you never point a gun at another person unless you want to shoot them, and you don’t blast road signs, and you don’t shoot at anything unless you’re absolutely certain what it is. But I’ve been told that you never run with a loaded rifle, and I have done just that, many times, most often to get a second shot into an escaping animal and save it hours or days of agony. I’ve climbed up iffy tree stands, and done all manner of fairly chancy stuff that would not be approved of in hunter safety ed.

Hunting, you see, is inherently risky, as is driving an automobile. Guns are dangerous, and there is always the chance of an accident no matter how careful you are. Bush planes crash, horses will cheerfully kill you the first chance they get, bears can attack you, and you can get lost and die from hypothermia.

Hunting is comprised mainly of gray areas, and the degree to which you navigate them successfully depends on your judgment,  and judgment can’t be taught. There is much in the sport that is intrinsically unsafe, and unless you are willing to accept that, you are not going to have much of a career as a hunter.