Pace of life has been fast and exciting lately. The observation of Martin Luther King Jr. afforded me a couple of hours to drive to my shooting range. 40 degree weather helped too.
I brought two guns. The rifle is a percussion cap ,50 caliber Thompson New Englander I received as a gift from my Uncle Al while on a trip with Claire and Harris in Montana. 90 grains of ff black powder sends a lead ball down range with surprising accuracy.
The revolver is an Uberti replica of a 1860 Colt Army that fires .44 caliber balls truly with 30 grains fff black powder times six. Old school now, being Civil War era, however, this was a state of the art weapon used by both the North and the South.
I enjoy shooting these guns because they demand a slower pace granting me time to think and to focus on accuracy.
While trying to hold steady on the paper in front of me, I thought about how I would not want to load and fix the regular jams of these guns while someone was shooting at me. I thought about the technology of these guns causing more American casualties than in all of the United States wars combined. I thought about the causes of the Civil War. I thought about MLK day, hatred and assassination. I thought about more...
Shooting black powder is visceral; you feel the thud and hear the blast as wonderfully sulfurous smoke hangs in the air. Today I learned that thinking while shooting has much the same effect.