I had high hopes for a productive range session today: it was sunny but not too warm and the wind was manageable. I set up my target and the wind flags and began shooting off the bench, just to get the rifle sighted in.
I had just finished sighting in at 50 metres when I looked off to my left and found a yearling black bear cub staring back at me from about 15 feet. Crap!
We had met on the way back to the range: I honked and he scampered off into the woods. I warned some folks picking wild raspberries on the pistol range that a bear cub was in their area and they started making noise and didn't seem too concerned.
Knowing the bear was in the general vicinity, I set up and began shooting but kept my ear plugs out so I could listen. The cub must've circled around them -- they were making noise, after all -- and decided to come check me out to see if I had any snacks.
I hollered at him and squirted water from my bottle but he wouldn't move, so I put a couple of shots into the ground between his feet and he didn't move. I yelled some more and jumped up and down and he jogged across the range into the bush:
He still wouldn't go so I put a few more shots into the trees just over his head but he wouldn't move. I realized at this point that I had to leave, as I was getting worried about Yogi -- or likely, mum -- showing up.
The berry pickers had come over by this point and were making noise, too, so I was able to grab my gear and throw it into the truck -- but not before he stuck his head in my range bag. I had to knock over a metal shelving unit to scare him away at that point.
So not the kind of range session I wanted to have two weeks out from a match. I'm just glad that I hadn't got into position yet -- he could've wandered right up and nibbled on my foot before I knew what was happening!
I really need to test my flipover front sight, so I'll bring my wife as a spotter the next time I go up. And maybe bring an air horn and some bear spray, too. . . .
I had just finished sighting in at 50 metres when I looked off to my left and found a yearling black bear cub staring back at me from about 15 feet. Crap!
We had met on the way back to the range: I honked and he scampered off into the woods. I warned some folks picking wild raspberries on the pistol range that a bear cub was in their area and they started making noise and didn't seem too concerned.
Knowing the bear was in the general vicinity, I set up and began shooting but kept my ear plugs out so I could listen. The cub must've circled around them -- they were making noise, after all -- and decided to come check me out to see if I had any snacks.
I hollered at him and squirted water from my bottle but he wouldn't move, so I put a couple of shots into the ground between his feet and he didn't move. I yelled some more and jumped up and down and he jogged across the range into the bush:
He still wouldn't go so I put a few more shots into the trees just over his head but he wouldn't move. I realized at this point that I had to leave, as I was getting worried about Yogi -- or likely, mum -- showing up.
The berry pickers had come over by this point and were making noise, too, so I was able to grab my gear and throw it into the truck -- but not before he stuck his head in my range bag. I had to knock over a metal shelving unit to scare him away at that point.
So not the kind of range session I wanted to have two weeks out from a match. I'm just glad that I hadn't got into position yet -- he could've wandered right up and nibbled on my foot before I knew what was happening!
I really need to test my flipover front sight, so I'll bring my wife as a spotter the next time I go up. And maybe bring an air horn and some bear spray, too. . . .
0 comments:
Post a Comment