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Growing up we had firearms in the house almost all the time. But most of them were rifles. My first gun was a Daisy BB gun, kind of a “copy” of the Winchester 94 or 92. Then later I picked up a small bore muzzle loading shotgun which was too rusted out to be used much. Around my 14th year my folks gave me a Daisy 880 pellet/BB gun and that is when I started to develop my shooting skills, such as they are. There were occasional pistols around, but at Brazilian prices for ammo they didn’t get shot much. My first cartridge gun was a Rossi double barrel, side by side 22 derringer type pistol. One COULD hit the broad side of a barn with it – provided that one was inside with all the windows and doors shut. It did duty as a ‘dillo gun, administering the coup de grace to the occasional unfortunate armadillo that came into our grasp -but did nothing to teach me to shoot a handgun. A Marksman BB/Pellet pistol did nothing for that skill set either. The muzzle velocity was around fastball baseball speed, you could see the pellet fly through the air – way off target every time. My dad’s brother had a 32 Smith and Wesson long caliber revolver – a Taurus or Rossi I believe, but don’t know for sure. Anyway, most of our shooting was done with long guns.

My first reloading experience was with a Boito shotgun that my dad allowed a visiting fellow from Alaska to put on dad’s quota of firearms. We loaded it with shot but shot it like a rifle. The first time dad let me go hunting was with his old Stevens Favorite – loaded with rat shot. Never got close enough to bag anything with it, didn’t even scare anything real bad. Later dad took it and shot the side of the outhouse – showing a HUGE pattern at a range of about 20 feet. No wonder I couldn’t hit anything with it. Later I learned to shoot with the Daisy 880 and got fairly proficient at harvesting doves and other small game – with a fair percentage of headshots.

When I left home at 17 I had no firearms. After working hard and saving up and turning 18 I went down to a local pawnshop, haggled with the owner for a Winchester ‘94 in 30-30. He lowered his price to meet my offer and I filled out the forms. When he saw that I was only 18 he refused to sell me the rifle – claiming I wasn’t old enough even though state law allowed that I was. To this day I’ve never spent a dime in that shop.

The next year I picked up a couple of rifles and a shotgun from a widow lady. A Remington 760 Gamemaster 30-06, a Remington 511 22 LR and a no-name break action 12 gauge singleshot. She tossed in some ammunition and I was happy as could be. Later the same summer I also picked up a German made 22 single action revolver and started messing around with it some. No one told any different so I carried that pistol with the 22 magnum cylinder in it and shot lr shells through it – with no ill effects. At close range it grouped OK but shot a mile high. Even removing the rear site completely didn’t bring the point of aim close enough to the point of impact and eventually the old gun as “sold down the river”.

Although I got to play with handguns some I remained a rifleman. I could shoot a long gun well enough but never could seem to do much with a pistol. Still, the lure of a packable piece of ordnance was there. It made sense to have a short enough gun that it could be packed out of sight, but ready to hand for shots at game – or in case one needed defense against some varmint – no matter how many legs or ambulatory posture such a varmint might exhibit. So a Ruger Mark II with the 6 7/8″ tapered target barrel was purchased as near to my 21st birthday as Missouri law would allow. At that time they required a “Permit to Purchase” which delayed my acquisition by several days but the Remington 760 was sacrificed in order to provide for the perceived need of a handgun.

Later my cousin purchased the exact same model – but in stainless steel. I always kind of wished I’d held of for the same, but the gun trading fever had kicked in and I couldn’t wait long enough. We’d save and scrimp and pick up a brick of ammo apiece then head out for the chat piles to burn it up. Federal Lightnings were the ammo of choice. We could pick up a brick of the stuff for about $10 at that time – dirt cheap compared to the $10 a box we’d been raised with in Brazil. It didn’t take us long to burn up the ammo but we had a blast doing it. I could always out shoot my cousin on paper, but he excelled on game and side bets. We’d wager a couple of shells on various shots “If you can hit ‘X’ on the next shot I’ll give you two rounds” was a common challenge. I believe I still have the half a penny that stayed in the crack of a rock after I took the top part off with a shot.

That Ruger somehow managed to make it down to Brazil with me later on. By that time it had a Clark trigger and a custom front sight. But the high humidity made it next to impossible to keep the rust at bay. I’d not yet learned to make a good preservative (nor did we have access to ATF or lanolin – the ingredients of my current lube/preservative) so inevitably some rust developed in spite of my best efforts. Also the gun wasn’t registered which made transportation of it a bit “iffy”. So it too went “down the river” to be replaced with a Rossi 38 with a six inch ventilated barrel.

The Rossi was a good gun. It gave me good service and built me a reputation as a pistol shot. Considering that your average Brazilian can’t shoot, that reputation was not too hard to come by. During this period of my life I continued to make meat more with long guns than anything else. A CBC 22 rifle replaced a CVA 50 caliber Blazer rifle I’d gotten into the country. It took care of a number of small game animals and was my “go to” gun for putting meat on the table. A bag of rusty parts was taken to a local smith and a H&R 28 gauge single shot was resurrected, to be loaded only with black powder reloads in full brass shells. It was traded for a basket case Winchester ‘73 which was resurrected – but was too worn to allow reloading of the fired brass. One out of three or four shells would actually crack on the first firing. So it was traded off for a Taurus 32 SWL for my wife.

When we were in the US for several months I picked up an Eddystone P17 Enfield that someone had customized. Got it at a local gunshow for dirt cheap. The next few months I spent building a load for it in preparation for deer season. A Hornady 165 gr BTSP over a dose of Winchester 760 gave me a tiny cloverleaf group at 100 yards. I picked up another box of those bullets and another can of powder on my way home from the range. That same year I also picked up a Norinco 45 acp caliber “Model of the 1911 A1″ because “everyone needs a 1911″. It got shot a lot too – but it was quite tiring to try and find all the brass each time.

By this time we moved to our current country of service. Gun laws were unknown and my old habits of smuggling had ended as I matured into understanding that not all nations have the Second Amendment – and I’m a guest there. Years passed and friendships developed. Some guys found out where we were ministering and that we had no modern means of self defense. Once I did my homework and learned about local law, a bunch of them kicked in and purchased a Llama Cassidy in 38 spl for our use.

So, although I was raised a rifleman, force of circumstances has brought me around more to the portable side of the shooting sports. Last year I scrimped and saved from some expense money we were given for a missions event. Six weeks of traveling over several thousand miles and I ate dollar menu hamburgers washed down with water. At the end of the time of travel I’d managed to save enough to pick up a Crossman 1377 pellet pistol It now provides me the means of doing some low cost practice. I retain hope that eventually I might learn to actually shoot a shortgun in an efficient way.

The Llama Cassidy and miscellaneous pocket residents

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