Formerly known as xpd54.
The opinions expressed in this post are my own and do not reflect the opinions or policies of my employer.
www.gunsnobbery.wordpress.com
Duh - it's a plasma thrower, IIC.
Cloud Yeller of the Boomer Age
So dang accurate. This is now my most enjoyable gun to shoot.
Yes, all 6 shots are there at 25 yards.
Continued thanks to @JEC
Participation does not equal Proficiency
- Mike Pannone
Zero’d this and ran about 80 rounds through it total. FLAT shooter.
Formerly known as xpd54.
The opinions expressed in this post are my own and do not reflect the opinions or policies of my employer.
www.gunsnobbery.wordpress.com
Shot a 1916 short rifle in 762. It shoots 8" high at 50 yards but groups well. I was shooting at a 8x10 plate off hand at 50 yards and bent the plate. And my mountain gun
On the ragged edge of the world I'll roam,
And the home of the wolf shall be my home - Robert Service
Your recent posts are making me miss mountainside backcountry camping with a No. 5 Mk I as a long gun for the camp.
At least they reminded me of one morning on a trip a friend had tagged along for. I woke up next to the embers of a fire, wrapped in a wool blanket, hugging the Enfield, and shook off the overnight rain. The sky was barely starting to lighten as I tossed some wood on the embers to rekindle a breakfast fire, grabbed the billy made from a wire bailed coffee can to fill at the beaver pond next to the site, and slung my rifle. I broke through the trees and jumped out onto a boulder to squat and fill the can and was within an easy charge of a large bull moose wading out for his morning drink.
My friend came flying out of his tent in his long johns, cursing all the way, to come over and chew me out for talking to him and waking him up so early. He burst through the trees and wondered why I was looking away and apologizing for my friend's poor manners. Then he turned and saw the moose and realized I'd been chatting calmly with our new neighbor the whole time. He slowly backed off back to camp and never left his tent without a gun on and security halt again. It helped that the overnight rain had softened the ground so when he went to get the off-site bear bag to make breakfast to make up for cursing me, he noticed the bear tracks that skirted his tent on the way to circle under the food cache. If I may say so myself, the tea I brewed that morning was particularly good and not just because I got to sip it while watching him eat a few servings of crow. An Irish breakfast blend taken black, if I remember correctly.
This would have been around the time a mutual friend was going through a homeless stint between apartment leases and bayonet charged a bear getting aggressive in his camp with a Mosin he'd left unloaded.