The first thing is getting them (ladies and youngsters) over their fear of the noise... and the weight of the firearm.
"Why are we building a lawn mower shed out of pallet wood and why am I the one with the nail gun? This thing is loud and heavy."
After lunch : "Your aren't even going to load it for me anymore?"
End of the day : "I can barely feel my arms, are you sure we needed all those nails? That little compressor ran and ran and I had to plan if I wanted to finish a section or wait for it to fill up again to have enough air for a full stack of nails. You were on the phone half the time and only holding pieces for me!"
(Unload shed in a safe area the next day at the preferred private land shooting spot, staple targets all over it and hand them the AR-15 and a vest full of topped off PMAGs)
"Now we do some real nail driving... you ready?"
Them : "Wow this thing is so light! And easy to load!"
"Compared to a heavy ass framing nail gun... you are damned right it is."
As a long time firearms instructor, I really appreciate this analogy. It's awesome! Might borrow the idea some day.
My son had his first Savage youth .22, (similar to the classic cricket) when he was only 4. Been a safe and responsible firearms enthusiast ever since.
My adopted Grandfather gave me a single box of 50 .22 rounds for each month of squirrel hunting. Each squirrel awarded me a dollar. Every coke and Sergeant Rock comic was gold on top of gold.
At age 10 he said I was a rifleman. The USAF later asked me whom taught me to shoot. My lead and track was never at fault.
God on Earth. God on Earth. His name was Pearly. He will be forever my real Grandfather.
My last season on the farm after he had passed, I walked the mile long path from stream to pasture and encountered a doe with fawn just as summer turned to fall, dropping to a knee and pointing my barrel at her snout, out of instinct... no more than two feet away.
She looked at me, sniffed and then snorted, "I know who you are. We all miss your Grandfather."
The first thing is getting them (ladies and youngsters) over their fear of the noise... and the weight of the firearm.
"Why are we building a lawn mower shed out of pallet wood and why am I the one with the nail gun? This thing is loud and heavy."
After lunch : "Your aren't even going to load it for me anymore?"
End of the day : "I can barely feel my arms, are you sure we needed all those nails? That little compressor ran and ran and I had to plan if I wanted to finish a section or wait for it to fill up again to have enough air for a full stack of nails. You were on the phone half the time and only holding pieces for me!"
(Unload shed in a safe area the next day at the preferred private land shooting spot, staple targets all over it and hand them the AR-15 and a vest full of topped off PMAGs)
"Now we do some real nail driving... you ready?"
Them : "Wow this thing is so light! And easy to load!"
"Compared to a heavy ass framing nail gun... you are damned right it is."
Them : (Big smile)
As a long time firearms instructor, I really appreciate this analogy. It's awesome! Might borrow the idea some day.
My son had his first Savage youth .22, (similar to the classic cricket) when he was only 4. Been a safe and responsible firearms enthusiast ever since.
I'm honored. Sincerely.
My adopted Grandfather gave me a single box of 50 .22 rounds for each month of squirrel hunting. Each squirrel awarded me a dollar. Every coke and Sergeant Rock comic was gold on top of gold.
At age 10 he said I was a rifleman. The USAF later asked me whom taught me to shoot. My lead and track was never at fault.
God on Earth. God on Earth. His name was Pearly. He will be forever my real Grandfather.
My last season on the farm after he had passed, I walked the mile long path from stream to pasture and encountered a doe with fawn just as summer turned to fall, dropping to a knee and pointing my barrel at her snout, out of instinct... no more than two feet away.
She looked at me, sniffed and then snorted, "I know who you are. We all miss your Grandfather."