Exercising Our Rights at the Range

Learning to not be a victim. Taking responsibility for your own well being is an important inherent right that folks from the hills take seriously. LaDonna Stephens practicing with a Taurus .357 Tracker pistol.

If there’s one thing I admire about hillbillies it’s that you won’t see too many of us volunteer to be a victim.  We’re an independent and bull-headed lot that actually believe all the hype about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…heavy on the liberty. It’s not unusual for folks from the hills to have a gun in every truck and several more in the house.  And not only are we not afraid to use’em but we actually enjoy burnin’ powder at every opportunity.  In the hills if a fella has bad judgment enough to show up uninvited on private property in the middle of the night he can count his lucky stars if’n he actually gets to explain himself after hearing the words, “What’s your business?”  If that same fella comes in the house uninvited in the night, well, he better want what he’s after awful bad.  There’s a good chance it will cost more than he’s willin’ to pay. 

Either she's a natural or she had an awfully good teacher...
The Taurus .357 loaded with .38's was a very accurate combination for LaDonna's shooting style.

 Now, with that kind of attitude there’s a certain amount of responsibility that goes along with it.  If you’re going to have the hillbilly attitude you better know your way around a gun.  And, in the hills it isn’t just the men who shoot – most of the ladies are very capable and many are down right scary in a scrape.  I’d say there’s only one thing worse than bumbling in-between a grizzly sow and her cubs, and that’s breaking into a house of a shotgun-packin’ hillbilly woman with her kids while her husband is away.  You can bet with a husband that hunts, fishes, and traps, it won’t be the first mess she’s cleaned up!  

FBI statistics will bear out that the average gun fight is at a distance of less than 7 yards, lasts 3-5 seconds, and 4 or fewer rounds are expended. The One-Eyed Hillbilly practicing up close and personal.

 This past weekend my wife and I decided to burn a little powder at the shooting range at Indian Trail State Park in rural Dent County.  LaDonna had shot rifles and shotguns with me several times but she had never shot a handgun.  I wanted to put a few rounds through my Kimber 1911 .45 Ultra Carry and my Taurus .357 Tracker pistol.  I had several cases of .38 ammo that would be great (and much cheaper than .357 rounds) for target practice.  I thought this would be a good opportunity to start LaDonna shooting handguns. 

For several years I had been talking with my wife about learning to shoot handguns and eventually getting her conceal-carry license.  She always said that she was interested but after working with me in our business for several years she said I was not patient enough to be a good teacher so she wanted to learn from someone else!  Can you believe that?!  “I’ll show her,” I thought to myself, as we were on our way to the range.  I told myself over and over again to be patient and nice while teaching her.  And then it happened - seems I always have a way of taking two steps back because I promptly started a bickering argument about a house in which she was interested.  I finally had the good sense to shut up.  Probably not a good idea to be teaching her to shoot a .357 in the midst of a heated argument about her house (there’s a time and place for being hard-headed – this wasn’t one of ‘em!).  

John M. Browning's crowning achievement - the Colt 1911 pistol. It is recognized the world over but it proved too big with too much recoil for LaDonna's taste.

 After getting to the range we set our ammo and firearms out on the shooting table and I loaded the .357 revolver.  I ran one cylinder while she watched.  I then reloaded and patiently went over with her the safety guidelines, revolver function as compared to semi-auto pistol function, proper aiming and proper shooting stance.  I then stood back and let her send a cylinder of rounds down range.  Now, either I’m a real good teacher (better than she gave me credit) or she was a natural.  I can tell you that you wouldn’t want her shooting at you with the .357 revolver loaded with .38’s.  The only issue for her was pulling back the hammer.  In a pinch that would not be an issue with which you would want to contend.  

"What was it that you were saying about the house?...and tell me again the difference between single and double action." This is not the opportune time to start an argument with your wife about her house! LaDonna Stephens asking a few questions about the pistol's double action characteristics.

 Next we loaded up the Kimber 1911.  I figured after cocking the gun for the first round it would be much easier for her since the 1911 would automatically cycle with each trigger pull – WRONG!  We learned that the .45 ACP with a 3½ barrel was too much recoil for her to handle.  In 7 shots she missed the whole target every time!  In a pinch you want to be able to hold on your target and not be afraid of the recoil.  With this new found information we are now thinking a smaller semi-auto .380 or .40 caliber will be the right choice for her to shoot comfortably and confidently.  

Talk about a mixed up mess - how about a right handed pistol shooter that only has his left eye! God definitely has a sense of humor! Greg with his conceal-carry firearm of choice - a 1911 .45 ACP Ultra Carry. Always bring enough gun to a gunfight.

 In closing, I would caution those who would be lulled to indifference concerning the need of firearms in today’s modern society.  While we do have some of the most dedicated, skilled, and well-intentioned public servants in the country in these hills to provide protection for us, they are not able to be in all places at all times.  And, as determined by the courts, they are under no obligation-


‘... a government and its agents are under no general duty to provide public services, such as police protection, to any particular individual citizen...’
      -- Warren v. District of Columbia, 444 A.2d 1 (D.C. App.181).
 
When one reads the details of this well documented and often cited court decision and the circumstances surrounding the case, it brings to light the importance of taking responsibility for your own well-being.  So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

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A Florida Character in the Ozark Hills!

The sights and surprises in the Great Outdoors never cease to amaze me.  Just when you think you have seen it all out in the woods, something comes along that reminds you that you haven’t even popped the cork of the moonshine jug of outdoors sights.  And some of the sights will make you wonder if someone hasn’t spiked your water pail with some of the ‘shine!  Case in point was this weekend in the turkey woods.

The weekend started normal enough on the water – we went out to a private lake to check some traps set for some nuisance beavers.  At the spillway where I had set a 330 conibear under a dive pole we had caught a big one.  By the feel of him I’d guess him to way 50 pounds.  He was definitely the construction leader at the spillway site.  For the past several weeks he and his compadres had been building a dam at the spillway only to have it deconstructed by us when we found it.  This, however, was not a discouragement for the beavers.  They went on about there construction like ‘busy beavers’ as the saying goes.  With all the rain for the past few weeks the trapping efforts were foiled again and again by high water leaving the traps many inches to a few feet below the surface of the water.  Finally, this weekend it got back down to a normal range long enough to snag our saw-toothed dam builder.

The weekend started off normal enough on the water. The One-Eyed Hillbilly with the saw-toothed dam builder.

While we were at the lake checking the traps I figured we might as well fish for a spell while circling the lake in the boat.  Much to our surprise when we got to the boat we discovered that all the rain had partially filled the hollow plastic hull with water and it was listing pretty heavily to port!  I talked my wife into helping me heave the partially foundered vessel up on the dock and hold it there as the water drained from a hole in the hull.  It was quite a struggle but we finally managed to drain it out enough to make the trip around the lake.  Coleman and I threw cranks, spinners, and jigs, and we managed to catch a few short fish but nothing of any size.  As I watched Coleman, my 7 year old son, I remembered a fishing trip with my dad and our friend Jackie Lough at the Sinks in Shannon County over 35 years ago.  I was about 7 at the time and I distinctly remember out-fishing both dad and Jackie, just as Coleman swore he was out-fishing me.  35 years ago…where’d the time go?

Building a foundation for a child's memories in the Great Outdoors. Coleman and mom, LaDonna Stephens on the boat.

After 35 years you start to think you’ve seen it all in the woods…but you haven’t.  Sunday morning, my son Alex and I were sitting in the corner of Uncle Boone’s farm with our turkey decoys out in front of us when Alex said, “Dad, there’s a guy over here in the field.” 

I looked to my left and could just make out a strange form crouched behind a bush about 30 yards from us.  We were just inside the woods line sitting under a large oak with scrub brush all around so he couldn’t see us but he could see our decoys.  About that time I heard him call…I think.  I wasn’t quite sure whether I heard a turkey call or the Aflac duck.  It was then that I figured out that he was stalking our decoys so I decided to whistle at him before he decided to take a dig at the rubber turkeys.  After he discovered the source of the whistling he stood up and came walking toward us.  That is when I discovered that I definitely had not even begun to see all that there is to see in the turkey woods.  

The boys acting goofy! Dad and Coleman posing with a "Monster" that Coleman caught while 'out-fishing' dad.

He was a friendly fella…just a little odd looking for the turkey woods.  He had bright blond hair that was so kinky it appeared to be an afro and he wore no hat to cover the hair.  He had a blonde Colonel Sanders beard and mustache.  He had a silver stud piercing protruding from his lower lip.  He wore a camouflage shirt with plaid,…yes, plaid shorts, and a pair of polished black cowboy boots.  He was packing a single-shot 28 gauge H&R shotgun.  He was a sight for sore turkey hunting eyes.  If I’m lyin’ I’m dyin’ and my son Alex can verify it all. 

During the conversation he told me he was from Florida.  Now, I’ve never hunted Osceola turkeys in Florida but this puts a new twist on what my perceptions were about hunting Osceolas!  He was a unique turkey hunting artist marching to the beat of his own drum.  Anyway, different strokes for different folks I guess.  I really don’t care how you dress.  I figure as long as you are in the woods chasing game you are on the right track.    

His style will definitely go down in my memory as unique in all the turkey hunting world.  He jogged my mind back 35 years as I searched my memory wondering if I had ever seen anything like him, just as watching Coleman had jogged my fishing memories back.  It’s hard to believe 35 years have flown by in the outdoors.  35 years, where’d they go?  One of my all time favorite musical artists, Bob Seager, wrote some lyrics that say,

“Twenty years now, where’d they go?

Twenty years, I don’t know. 

I sit and I wonder sometimes where they’ve gone.  

...And sometimes late at night,

oh when I’m bathed in the firelight,

the moon comes calling a ghostly white,

and I recall, I recall…”  

There is nothing more peacefully satisfying than being bathed in the campfire light as the moon shines bright over the wooded Ozark ridges and recalling the memories of a life in the hills.  So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.