And for all I normally manage to shoot, most of the time it's a waste anyhow!
But took the daughter and dogs for a stroll over the neighbour's place, Iron sighted .22 in hand (it's light to carry and I don't have to be precious about bashing a scope)
Between my
**** eyes, old glasses, sunstrike, generally being out of practice, I got prone and lined up on a plover at what I thought to be 50 yards, 6 o'clock hold, aiming for the big bit. Took a puff of feathers out the poor chap (low gut shot - we found him later, over 1km away), but plenty of feathers and bright red blood where he was hit so knew it was fatal. Turned out closer to 65 yards.
So the next one was a bit further up the paddock (80 paces when I went to retrieve) so I went for the dead-on hold, pressed send on the super-x and the nasty bastard went down on the spot with a high chest/neck hit.
Very satisfying for my blind old ass. And I do love shooting irons, though might need to go to aperture.
Anyway, finished the round with a juvenile peacock. Standing shot at 30 yards, high angle up a tree, right in the boiler. Which unfortunately with the 22lr ends up spoiling a bit of breast meat, but still recovered some, daughter did the butchery. Back legs for the dogs.
Annoyingly I'm left-eye dominant, and have shot left handed since the dawn of time, but (according to a recent optometrist appointment) have clearer vision out my right eye! What kind of gammy genetic joke is that!
So this one's mostly for bragging: