How to handle a lucky shot

A LOT HAS BEEN written about the great shots we have accidentally made on game. This week’s column will delve into a little known sub-genre of the accidental great shot – that being how to comport yourself when you have accidentally made a great shot on a distant twig.

A fine example of this occurred on Saturday when my brother and I were shooting my pre-charged pneumatic air rifle, which is ridiculously accurate at ranges up to 50 yards.

We were walking in the woods when I pointed to a twig that clearly stood out against a side hill. We judged it to be 35 yards away. I handed him my rifle and shooting stick and said, “See if you can hit that twig.”

Martin took a shot and, if the puff of dirt to the left was any indication, missed it by an inch. He then handed me the rifle and I lined the twig up, shot, and snapped it cleanly in half.

Many shooters would have let their emotions betray their surprise at that point – after all, the twig was hardly pencil-width and appeared narrow even when magnified in my 12X scope. Those shooters might have gloated about the skill it takes to control their breathing and trigger pull. They might have immediately launched into a lecture on the mental aspect of making a shot like that or how they used the ballistic co-efficient of the pellet and estimated velocity to make a mental calculation of trajectory and holdover required at that range.

Not me. I’m playing the

long game.

I looked at my brother and gave him a far more insidious response.

“That’s really embarrassing,” I said, as I shook my head. “I hit a sixteenth of an inch low.”

Then I handed him back the rifle.

For the next bit of our walk, I lamented on this grave error and at one point even threatened to quit shooting altogether if I couldn’t get out of this “slump” I was in. The word slump was intentional since it is one no shooting buddy can resist.

“Slump?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “the other day I was shooting at a bottle cap at 60 yards and I nicked it three times in a row before hitting it.”

I know. The old school way of thinking dictates that, instead of this, I should have turned the conversation to his spectacular miss to make him feel bad.

Of course, that’s plain wrong. It’s far better to make another shooter feel bad by going on about how a great shot you made wasn’t even remotely up to your usual standards. Yes it’s more subtle, but it’s effective.

This works its way into the other persons mind and makes the next shot challenge even easier to win. And, let’s be honest shooting, once you get past the fundamentals, is a mental game.

That’s why I was surprised when we spied a very similar target ten minutes later and my brother pointed to it and said, “Let’s try again.” “After you,” I said. This time he nicked the stick. Then he handed me the rifle.

I shot and a puff of dirt showed just to the right.

“You missed,” he said with some satisfaction.

“Yes,” I replied glumly, “I hit that mosquito a little to the left ...”