6mm Remington
Well-known member
I wrote this a few years ago and touched it up and tweaked it a bit recently as the disease is still in me even thought I thought I was cured. You will be able to tell by the end of the story that I still have it and there is no cure. It's long but I hope you might enjoy reading it and see the humor that I am poking at myself and the rest of us that are infected with this disease!
I call it RADD or Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder:
Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder
As I mentioned previously, we finally have a name for the disease that I feel many of us are afflicted with. It is called Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder or RADD for short. It is a very powerful disease with no known cure. So far the only temporary relief has been found through therapeutic shopping. This is where more firearms are purchased in the hopes of quieting the anguish and grief brought on by reading our hunting and shooting magazines, or the frequent trips to the sporting goods store. So far though nothing has appeared to work and once a person is inflicted it appears to be a life-long illness.
As it seems that I went first in admitting that I have this illness and we now have a name for it, maybe by telling my story others will be helped and we will also understand that we do not have to suffer alone. Hopefully they too will share their story and together we might find some solace in knowing there are many others in this group.
Hello everyone my name is David and I am a Rifle Addict and this is my story. As you read my story, you will come to the realization that this disease is even more than just an addiction to firearms but also encompasses fishing, trapping, hiking, boating, snowshoeing, and in essence everything and anything to do with the great outdoors. I feel that the name RADD appropriately fits pretty well and besides that I like the name. I’ll try to tell this in a chronological fashion as I think it might make it easier for the layman to understand how this disease progresses and how severely it effects each of us.
My addiction started as young as the age of three or four when my parents, my grandparents, and aunts and uncles would take me fishing with a fly pole in small creeks and streams near where we lived. It was obvious that I was enjoying it by the look on my face when I would land a whopping 6 inch long brook trout. This then progressed to the age of 5 when my father could no longer come up with reasons that I could not join him and his friend when they went out frequently to check their trap lines. They trapped fox, badger, coyote, and bobcat. This is where the rifle addiction first started. We had .22 rifles with us on these trips to shoot rabbits with, and rabbits were what we used for bait. The .22’s were also used to dispatch the animals that they were fortunate enough to catch. I shot a lot of rabbits with that .22, and was making some shots that my father and his friend envied! We used the cottontails for the baits and turned in the jackrabbits at the mercantile as they gave us 25 cents for each jackrabbit so they could use their hides in gloves and such. The money made from the jackrabbits was then in turn used to buy a hamburger and play a couple games of pool at a small town bar in Reed Point Montana at the end of our tough day on the trap-line. That in turn lead to another addiction called billiards, but that is another story.
At about the age of 8 I was given my first BB gun which was a lever action Daisy that held the BB’s in a large tube surrounding the barrel. I do not recall the exact amount of BB’s it would hold, but it was as I recall quite substantial. It had to number between 200-300 BB’s. Now the Daisy rifle was spring loaded and the energy to shoot the BB resulted from cocking the rifle. It non-the-less had ample power to kill grasshoppers, starlings, magpies, dirt clods, and other big-game I could conjure up such as a tree stump. I remember finding out just how powerful the Daisy was when another friend of mine who was the same age and I decided to have a BB gun fight in the woods near the river where we lived. This particular river was the Stillwater River near Columbus Montana.
Being above average intelligence, or so we thought, we decided that there should be some rules of combat laid out so we wouldn’t hurt each other, and maybe even lose an eye! We agreed that we would try not to shoot the opponent any higher than the middle of his stomach area so that we hopefully would not take one in the eye or the face. Our FIRST and ONLY battle started with a bang or a pffff quite literally. I saw right away that I had quite an advantage over my opponent/enemy. I could literally shoot my BB gun all day where as he had to reload his after about 30 shots. Once I figured this out, I really pressed the attack. My friend was running through the woods trying to reload his BB gun all the while wishing that he had a white flag to wave as a sign of defeat, but alas he had none. I continued pressing the attack and he eventually got loaded back up and got back into the fight again. I also discovered that when he was running away from me, a well placed BB right in the soft spot behind his knee would put him down momentarily on the spot. Oh sure he would get up almost right away and continue to run in an attempt to get to a position of cover from which to fire back, but it sure slowed him down a little bit.
I was winning this battle we were having by a large margin because of my much greater volume of firepower. We both were taking some casualties though and were quickly finding out that a BB shot at what I would guess was roughly 300 fps or so really hurt when it hit you in the leg, the butt, or somewhere else. I remember the battle quickly coming to an end when my “friend” accidently shot me in the mouth after I had taken cover behind a tree and had lain on the ground to make as small a target as possible. I peaked around the tree to try and engage him again, and he hit me in one of my upper front teeth. The BB did not touch any part of my lip which might have slowed the impact somewhat. It did not knock the tooth out and it did not break the tooth, but the pain I felt I would be the equivalent of having the dentist drill out a cavity in your mouth without deadening the gums first. It hurt! We never EVER engaged in another battle of this type again. WE decided that it was not that much fun after all.
It was about the age of 9 when I got my first bow and arrows. Oh let the adventures begin! I had one of those cheap fiberglass long bows you can still purchase for the beginning archer today in various stores. They aren’t very powerful and I would guess that the bow I had took about 15-20 pounds to pull it back, but not more than that. It would shoot an arrow quite a ways though. I remember stalking deer and other animals back in the river bottom behind our house just practicing for the day when I would finally be old enough and would either have a rifle or a bow to actually hunt with. One day I was with another friend of mine who also had a bow similar to mine. We were shooting stumps, attempting to shoot ground squirrels, and any other kind of vermin we might come across. All was fine and dandy until my Norwegian Elkhound found a skunk and started barking at it and trying to get at the skunk. The skunk of course was not going to take this lying down so he began fighting back by the only means that a skunk has. The air was soon filled with the aroma that only a skunk can make and boy was it powerful! My dog was barking at the skunk and circling it all the while getting sprayed with that wonderful fragrance.
My friend and I decided that we needed to save my dog as “we did not want my dog to get hurt”. We each shot the skunk with our arrows that only had practice tips on them as that was all we were allowed to have at the time. This was probably a good thing. I have to mention at this point that we each had only ONE arrow apiece! We were not very well equipped for killing anything, but we had to try for my dogs sake and try we did.
I remember shooting the skunk and then my friend shot him as well. We then had to approach this still very alive skunk and recover our arrows so we could shoot him again. As you can probably imagine we both ended up covered in skunk perfume. After just a couple of arrows each we were able to kill the skunk so he would not be getting into anyone’s chicken coop again and by golly our dog was now safe too. It’s really kind of amazing when I look back at this, but did you know that you can smell so bad that at some point you cannot actually smell yourself any longer? I didn’t think that was possible but it really is! We were pretty proud of ourselves so we carried the skunk home to show my mom what a great job we had done getting rid of one of those pesty buggers. I somehow don’t think she needed the visual of the trophy to verify what had taken place as she could smell us coming from several blocks away. Mom surprisingly was not very happy.
I call it RADD or Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder:
Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder
As I mentioned previously, we finally have a name for the disease that I feel many of us are afflicted with. It is called Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder or RADD for short. It is a very powerful disease with no known cure. So far the only temporary relief has been found through therapeutic shopping. This is where more firearms are purchased in the hopes of quieting the anguish and grief brought on by reading our hunting and shooting magazines, or the frequent trips to the sporting goods store. So far though nothing has appeared to work and once a person is inflicted it appears to be a life-long illness.
As it seems that I went first in admitting that I have this illness and we now have a name for it, maybe by telling my story others will be helped and we will also understand that we do not have to suffer alone. Hopefully they too will share their story and together we might find some solace in knowing there are many others in this group.
Hello everyone my name is David and I am a Rifle Addict and this is my story. As you read my story, you will come to the realization that this disease is even more than just an addiction to firearms but also encompasses fishing, trapping, hiking, boating, snowshoeing, and in essence everything and anything to do with the great outdoors. I feel that the name RADD appropriately fits pretty well and besides that I like the name. I’ll try to tell this in a chronological fashion as I think it might make it easier for the layman to understand how this disease progresses and how severely it effects each of us.
My addiction started as young as the age of three or four when my parents, my grandparents, and aunts and uncles would take me fishing with a fly pole in small creeks and streams near where we lived. It was obvious that I was enjoying it by the look on my face when I would land a whopping 6 inch long brook trout. This then progressed to the age of 5 when my father could no longer come up with reasons that I could not join him and his friend when they went out frequently to check their trap lines. They trapped fox, badger, coyote, and bobcat. This is where the rifle addiction first started. We had .22 rifles with us on these trips to shoot rabbits with, and rabbits were what we used for bait. The .22’s were also used to dispatch the animals that they were fortunate enough to catch. I shot a lot of rabbits with that .22, and was making some shots that my father and his friend envied! We used the cottontails for the baits and turned in the jackrabbits at the mercantile as they gave us 25 cents for each jackrabbit so they could use their hides in gloves and such. The money made from the jackrabbits was then in turn used to buy a hamburger and play a couple games of pool at a small town bar in Reed Point Montana at the end of our tough day on the trap-line. That in turn lead to another addiction called billiards, but that is another story.
At about the age of 8 I was given my first BB gun which was a lever action Daisy that held the BB’s in a large tube surrounding the barrel. I do not recall the exact amount of BB’s it would hold, but it was as I recall quite substantial. It had to number between 200-300 BB’s. Now the Daisy rifle was spring loaded and the energy to shoot the BB resulted from cocking the rifle. It non-the-less had ample power to kill grasshoppers, starlings, magpies, dirt clods, and other big-game I could conjure up such as a tree stump. I remember finding out just how powerful the Daisy was when another friend of mine who was the same age and I decided to have a BB gun fight in the woods near the river where we lived. This particular river was the Stillwater River near Columbus Montana.
Being above average intelligence, or so we thought, we decided that there should be some rules of combat laid out so we wouldn’t hurt each other, and maybe even lose an eye! We agreed that we would try not to shoot the opponent any higher than the middle of his stomach area so that we hopefully would not take one in the eye or the face. Our FIRST and ONLY battle started with a bang or a pffff quite literally. I saw right away that I had quite an advantage over my opponent/enemy. I could literally shoot my BB gun all day where as he had to reload his after about 30 shots. Once I figured this out, I really pressed the attack. My friend was running through the woods trying to reload his BB gun all the while wishing that he had a white flag to wave as a sign of defeat, but alas he had none. I continued pressing the attack and he eventually got loaded back up and got back into the fight again. I also discovered that when he was running away from me, a well placed BB right in the soft spot behind his knee would put him down momentarily on the spot. Oh sure he would get up almost right away and continue to run in an attempt to get to a position of cover from which to fire back, but it sure slowed him down a little bit.
I was winning this battle we were having by a large margin because of my much greater volume of firepower. We both were taking some casualties though and were quickly finding out that a BB shot at what I would guess was roughly 300 fps or so really hurt when it hit you in the leg, the butt, or somewhere else. I remember the battle quickly coming to an end when my “friend” accidently shot me in the mouth after I had taken cover behind a tree and had lain on the ground to make as small a target as possible. I peaked around the tree to try and engage him again, and he hit me in one of my upper front teeth. The BB did not touch any part of my lip which might have slowed the impact somewhat. It did not knock the tooth out and it did not break the tooth, but the pain I felt I would be the equivalent of having the dentist drill out a cavity in your mouth without deadening the gums first. It hurt! We never EVER engaged in another battle of this type again. WE decided that it was not that much fun after all.
It was about the age of 9 when I got my first bow and arrows. Oh let the adventures begin! I had one of those cheap fiberglass long bows you can still purchase for the beginning archer today in various stores. They aren’t very powerful and I would guess that the bow I had took about 15-20 pounds to pull it back, but not more than that. It would shoot an arrow quite a ways though. I remember stalking deer and other animals back in the river bottom behind our house just practicing for the day when I would finally be old enough and would either have a rifle or a bow to actually hunt with. One day I was with another friend of mine who also had a bow similar to mine. We were shooting stumps, attempting to shoot ground squirrels, and any other kind of vermin we might come across. All was fine and dandy until my Norwegian Elkhound found a skunk and started barking at it and trying to get at the skunk. The skunk of course was not going to take this lying down so he began fighting back by the only means that a skunk has. The air was soon filled with the aroma that only a skunk can make and boy was it powerful! My dog was barking at the skunk and circling it all the while getting sprayed with that wonderful fragrance.
My friend and I decided that we needed to save my dog as “we did not want my dog to get hurt”. We each shot the skunk with our arrows that only had practice tips on them as that was all we were allowed to have at the time. This was probably a good thing. I have to mention at this point that we each had only ONE arrow apiece! We were not very well equipped for killing anything, but we had to try for my dogs sake and try we did.
I remember shooting the skunk and then my friend shot him as well. We then had to approach this still very alive skunk and recover our arrows so we could shoot him again. As you can probably imagine we both ended up covered in skunk perfume. After just a couple of arrows each we were able to kill the skunk so he would not be getting into anyone’s chicken coop again and by golly our dog was now safe too. It’s really kind of amazing when I look back at this, but did you know that you can smell so bad that at some point you cannot actually smell yourself any longer? I didn’t think that was possible but it really is! We were pretty proud of ourselves so we carried the skunk home to show my mom what a great job we had done getting rid of one of those pesty buggers. I somehow don’t think she needed the visual of the trophy to verify what had taken place as she could smell us coming from several blocks away. Mom surprisingly was not very happy.