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I go to a range that's 10 miles from the house just on the other side of the Bosque county line, it's an out door country range. I've been there 6 or 7 times and there are cats all over the place. Yesterday while getting the guns out of the trunk we hear this crazy noise and look over to witness a cat get mauled to death by a couple of dogs. BIZARRE! We tell the range master and he walks over and picks up the carcass and tosses it in a ditch, so many cats, so few recipes.

Do ya'll have any strange range stories?
 

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About the craziest thing I've had happen at the range is shooting the push pins off my targets with my 945. It's always funny to see those little pieces of plastic explode when the round hits it. The animals are far too smart to venture into the range area, even though I go to the state gamelands here in PA. they may come out after dark, but you're not allowed to shoot after dark there.
 

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Exploding push pins. Been there, done that. Thanks.
 

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Didn't happen to me, but this was from a "Guns Magazine" article called "Home, Home on the range..... Sorta". Made me laugh.

Never, Ever Disturb Pepe
Just below The Cotton Curtain, the “rangehouse” in this one place looked like a travel-trailer had broken loose from a truck and crashed into the end of a chicken house in about 1952. Somebody then decided to semi-permanently join ’em in unholy wedlock with duct tape, tin sheets and baling wire. At some later point, the result was deemed to be a range office and living quarters for the groundskeeper. It was the kind of thing you want to ask questions about, but get the feeling it could be a sensitive subject.

Over an obviously-occupied critter-burrow under one side there was a cardboard sign reading, “Do NOT Disterb Pepe!” scrawled in felt marker. I didn’t ask, and I sure didn’t want to disturb Pepe, whoever or whatever the heck he/she/it might be. Over the years I’ve learned that warnings written freehand in felt marker, blood, or lipstick carry far more weight than professionally-printed signs.
We were takin’ a break in the shade of the “range-coop” when we heard snickering, rattling, a sharp intake of breath, and then our collective olfactory senses were assaulted and overrun by airborne essence of super-skunk. Note: some skunks stink. This odor went somewhere beyond horrific. We’re talkin’ psychosomatic blindness, involuntary voiding, and short-term memory loss. My nasal hairs were tryin’ to retract into my brain.

Instantly, the “regulars” jammed foam earplugs up their nostrils, frenziedly scooped up their gear and, well, they didn’t “flee the area” so much as they radiated out from the blast-point like high-velocity shrapnel. I was left standing there, realizing that, (a) I didn’t have any foam ear plugs, (b) my range muffs could not fit up my nose, and (c) the idiot standing over by that burrow holding one of those telescoping brass-retrieving rods, was the culprit who committed the ultimate sin. He had disturbed Pepe.

For about two seconds, I felt sorry for the idiot. Having absorbed the point-blank blast of Pepe’s wrath, he looked like he had turned to stone, and the stone was disintegrating. Then the trailer door exploded open, and out shot the groundskeeper, an enraged, elderly apparition in long gray underwear, squeezing his nose with one hand and wavin’ an old Springfield ’03 stock in the other.
Dangleblaggit! he screamed, “Who ‘sturbed PEPE?”

The Stone Man, electrified by terror, bolted away—with Pappy in hot pursuit. I survived—and chalked up another quirk.
I briefly explained “quirks” to the gentleman on the phone, and he just chuckled.

“Oh, there’s nothin’ like that!” he laughed—then he got quiet. “Well-l-l,” he drawled, “There is that patch of quicksand on the path down to the trap house. It gets blowed over with leaves sometimes so’s you kinda can’t see it, but ever’body knows it’s there and skirts around it, ’cept for that fella who came visitin’ last spring, and… Umm… I see what you mean.”
Ah-HA! The QUIRK!
 

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Discussion Starter #5
Just below The Cotton Curtain, the “rangehouse” in this one place looked like a travel-trailer had broken loose from a truck and crashed into the end of a chicken house in about 1952. Somebody then decided to semi-permanently join ’em in unholy wedlock with duct tape, tin sheets and baling wire. At some later point, the result was deemed to be a range office and living quarters for the groundskeeper. It was the kind of thing you want to ask questions about, but get the feeling it could be a sensitive subject.
Sounds like the place where the "wanna be gunsmith"(paraphrased from a different post on the forum) did a trigger "job" on my 1974 Remington 700, yes the ones that if you do a trigger job on could go off unexpectedly. Man the pull on that soooooo nice if you could ignore the occasional pull the trigger and nothing happens game. I eventually got tired of the problem and took it to McBrides and quickly learned the error of my ways when the smith tore me a new one. Live and learn.
 

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...I look over to witness a cat get mauled to death by a couple of dogs. BIZARRE!

Do ya'll have any strange range stories?
Just those pesky BLACK HELICOPTERS flying over..and some guy named Hans that wants to change the range markers from yards to meters...damned metric system.
 

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Well there was the time when someone shooting tracers started a fire at the end of the 200 yard range and we all hard to run down and piss on the fire to put it out. Does that count?
 

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Exploding push pins. Been there, done that. Thanks.
If you boys are good enough shots to hit a push pin on a target, then I wouldn't want to go up against either one of you in a competition match!

Ya'll go on with your bad selves! :cool::cool:
 

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I won't say my daughter is a Top Shot (although she is good) but on our first trip to an unsupervised outdoor range I took along a couple of kits consisting of a target and a wire frame from which to hang it.
Her first shot was wide of the mark, hitting the frame and bending it to the point the whole thing was useless.
Not as good as driving push pins, but...
 

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If you boys are good enough shots to hit a push pin on a target, then I wouldn't want to go up against either one of you in a competition match!

Ya'll go on with your bad selves! :cool::cool:
But where were they aiming?? :D Hummmmm, now I'm thinking exploding push pins and cats... :D
 

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How about splitting a wire target holder (the cheap one from Walmart) in 2 at 100 yards with a 30-06?
(not my target, stole the picture)
holder.jpg

I hit the upright 1/8" metal rod and the the target fell over.
Had to wait until the range went cold to retrieve it.
Needles to say the shot was rather low!
 

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I was at our outdoor country members only gun club, in the afternoon on a week day all alone, shooting my PT145 at around 20 feet when during a 5 round mag I hear something rush by just behind me that makes me JUMP out of my skin. I swing around in a defensive way to see a doe deer run right by me. Parallel to the back stop! Once I realize what it was I just aim at her back and go "Bang". No I did not shoot, just pretended (it would have been an easy shoot) And watched her run off up the hill. That was cool!
:eek:
 
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