I Was A Card-Carrying Member of the N.R.A.

NOVEMBER 23, 2014 11:32AM

I Was A Card-Carrying Member of the N.R.A.

I learned to hunt before I was ten years old.  We lived in Phoenix, and my Dad went deer hunting every year and rabbit hunting every month.  We ate so much game from one end of the year to the next that I imagine we would have gone hungry if he hadn't hunted.  Not that hunting was particularly cheap; rifles and shotguns were expensive, and ammunition wasn't cheap.  Not to mention that hunting required camping supplies, heavier clothing than we normally wore even in the winter, and sometimes significant travel.  But we were a hunting and fishing family, and even my mother joined in.

I'll never forget the first rabbit I killed, the summer I turned ten.  I had a small over-and-under .22 caliber rifle and .410 gauge shotgun, and we had gone hunting in the desert near Horshoe Dam, about 50 miles north of Phoenix.  The area was thick with cholla cactus, which could be quite dangerous, and we were a mile or so from the road.  We were hunting cotton-tail rabbits as opposed to jackrabbits, which according to my Dad were fit only for dog food. Cotton-tails are significantly smaller than jackrabbits, and consequently significantly more difficult to shoot.  A skinned and gutted cotton-tail is roughly the size of a small chicken, and when cooked tastes remarkably the same.  We would normally bring home four to six of them, and my Mom would cook one and freeze the rest.  I had been hunting for several weekends without getting one, and had only seen two or three during that entire time.  This time one jumped up right in front of me, ran about thirty feet, and then stopped under a cholla.  I guess she thought she was hiding, but she didn't move a muscle.  I took a shot at her with the .22 and missed, and she still didn't move.  Rather than reload the .22 I took careful aim with the .410 and fired.  The good thing about a shotgun is that it sends out a wide spread of shot, and if you are anywhere in the neighborhood you will hit what you aim at.  On this day that poor rabbit's number was up, and I proudly carried it back to the truck attached to my belt with a hook through its hind leg after I field dressed it.  We ate it for dinner.

I had joined the Cub Scouts when I was eight (my Mom was the Den Mother and my Dad was the Scoutmaster, so I didn't really have a lot of choice) and moved up to the Boy Scouts when I turned eleven.  As a Boy Scout you start as a Tenderfoot, earn your Second Class badge in about three months, and then your First Class badge in another six months ot so.  After First Class you earn higher ranks by earning Merit Badges in various disciplines, such as Camping, Hiking, Swimming, and Personal Fitness.  Several of the disciplines are required if you wish to become an Eagle Scout, but there are several elective disciplines as well.   I had earned my First Class badge by the time I turned twelve, and began accumulating Merit Badges.

One of the elective disciplines was Marksmanship.  At summer camp each year I began spending time at the shooting range.  We used .22 caliber rifles, which by then I had been shooting for years.  In fact I had graduated from my over-and-under .22/.410 to a Mossberg bolt action .22 with a seven-cartridge clip.  I was not able to bring my own rifle to the range, of course, but I was extremely familiar with shooting a .22.  So from the beginning I did very well.

In shooting targets a perfect score is 50, which is earned by placing five shots out of five in the bull's eye.  In order to earn the Marksmanship Merit Badge I had to shoot 10 targets at 45 or better in the prone position, 10 targets at 40 or better in the kneeling position, and 10 targets at 35 or better in the standing position.  Obviously, shooting high scores is easier in the prone position and harder in the standing position. The reason should be obvious: in the prone position you can support the rifle more easily than in the kneeling position or the standing position. There were also other requirements, such as passing a gun safety course, but I was able to earn the Marksmanship Merit Badge in one week during my first summer of Boy Scout Camp.  

But I also learned there were other awards available.  The National Rifle Association gave medals for scoring 10 targets at 30 or higher in each postion, with additional medals for 10 targets at five points higher in each position.  So my goal became to earn the 3o, 35, 40, 45, and 50 medals in each position.  But first I had to join the N.R.A.  So I did.

In doing so I wasn't making any kind of political statement.  I didn't even understand that there was any kind of a political statement to be made.  I was just a kid who liked to shoot rifles and wanted the medals that they gave out.  I paid my very reasonable dues and began to earn medals.

When I got to high school (after having earned my Eagle Scout badge, by the way), this came in handy in a couple of ways.  At that time I had to take either P.E. or R.O.T.C., and I chose R.O.T.C.  I was looking for a way to pay for college, and did not yet realize that scholarships would be available that would pay the whole bill (this was the early 1960s, when such scholarships were still available).  One of the things I was condsidering was trying for an appointment to one of the service academies, and I thought that R.O.T.C. might help with that. Alternatively, I knew that if I took R.O.T.C. in college it would come with a scholarhip and end with a commission.  I actually did end up with an appointment to West Point, and when I turned it down my mother very nearly disowned me.  But that's another story.

Anyway, I discovered that I was allowed to wear some of my N.R.A. shooting medals on my R.O.T.C. uniform, automatically making me the most-decorated cadet in the corps. I moved up the ranks fairly quickly, earning Cadet of the Month honors during my first year and commanding a platoon during my second year.  I was on track for a company in my third year and batallion staff in my fourth (not batalliom commander; everybody knew who was the best cadet in line for that slot, and it wasn't me), but along the way I quit the R.O.T.C.  That, too, is another story. While I remained on the R.O.T.C., however, I was entitled to wear my Cadet of the Month medal as well as my 50-score prone medal, my 50-score kneeling medal, but only a 45-score standing medal.  I guess I would have done better with a .410 gauge shotgun.  I never did get that 50-score standing medal.

The other thing that my N.R.A. medals did for me was get me on the high school rifle team.  The R.O.T.C. instructor invited me to try out, and based on my first ten targets he invited me to join the team.  Technically any student in the high school could have been on the team, but in actual practice only boys in R.O.T.C. were allowed to compete.  We had competitions with other rifle teams from around the State on weekends, with qualification for the State tournament based on performance throughout the season.  A score of 50 on a target was standard, so in addition to hitting a target in the bull's eye, you had to hit in the sweet spot of the bull's eye.  It was almost like Olympic shooting in that regard. I did very well prone, moderately well kneeling, but only average standing. I helped the team win a number of meets, but did not qualify for State my first year.  When I quit the R.O.T.C. during my second year I was, of course, dropped from the rifle team.

 Rabbit hunting wasn't my only hunting experience during my adolescence.  We also hunted, and shot, javelina, turkeys, doves, deer, antelope, and elk.  I never personally got an elk, although I was present when my Dad got one.  While deer and antelope weigh in the vicinity of 100-200 pounds field dressed, an elk will run 600-800 pounds field dressed.  Although we had always butchered our own game, this was too much for us to butcher at home, so we sought professional help.  This raised the per-pound cost, of course, but it gave us enough meat for a long time. 

We hunted turkey with shotguns rather than rifles.  I had graduated from my .410 to a 12 gauge with a pump action, and was lucky just once on a turkey hunt.  I did very well with doves, though, going out on opening day four years in a row.  This led to one of my brushes with fame, meeting and eating breakfast with baseball star and broadcaster Dizzy Dean.  My other early brush with fame was being Barry Goldwater's paper boy (he tipped well), but that's another story.

For deer, antelope. and elk we used .30 caliber rifles.  At various times I owned and shot a .308 Winchester, a classic .30-30 Winchester, and a .357 Magnum.  The latter was too much rifle for me, so I mostly used my .308.  My Dad taught me to shoot these, and I got some practice on the range as well.  Each of these rifles had a scope, and so had to be sighted in each year at least once.  While hunting, of course, we fired them very little.

Opening day was always on a Friday in November, and I took the Thursday and Friday off from high school every year.  These were excused absences, as the high school administrators understood the need to hunt. We traveled north to Prescott or Flagstaff or Payson, where we set up camp with our tent and prepared for the hunt the next day.  The hunt itself was mobile, with us hiking for miles looking for game.  I myself preferred to find a place to hunker down on a ridge and scan the ground on either side with binoculars.  In this way I was able to track deer running from other hunters, and was successful in my last two years. Although whitetail deer were available in Arizona, we always hunted mule deer, which were somewhat larger.  My first buck was only about ninety pounds, but my second one dressed out to over a hundred and fifty.

At that time, anyone who wanted a deer license could get one, although we were limited to one buck per year.  Does were not hunted. In order to hunt antelope, elk, bison, or wild sheep, a hunter had to enter into a lottery.  I was drawn for antelope once (and was successful) and elk three times (unsuccessful each time).  I also tried for deer twice with bow and arrow, but never even saw one.  I suspect that even if I had I would have missed, or even worse I would have merely wounded an animal, since I was never very good with a bow.  I saw my Dad get one once, though, and know it can be done.  For years he kept the neckbone on our mantle, with the razor head of the arrow buried in it so deeply that it would not come out even with pliers.

Incidentally, in Illinois where I now live hunting deer with .30 caliber rifles is illegal; shotguns must be used.  We were able to use rifles because of the lack of population density, and would have considered using shotguns to be absurd.

After I left the R.O.T.C. I gave up my membership in the N.R.A. It was simply np longer worth it to me.  I haven't hunted or even shot a rifle or shotgun since 1965.  While I think the N.R.A. does some good things, like providing hunter safety courses, it has evolved into a political organization the main purpose of which is lobbying against gun control.  As such it is on the wrong side of an important issue, and I could never support it.

But for two years I was a card-carrying member.  And I don't regret it one bit.