It just so happened that Secret Agent Man could not make it to trap shooting practice last night. So, this left me as the lone family representative. That wouldn't be so bad, except that Secret Agent Man has taken up some of the coaching duties.
I don't even care to shoot a gun, much less use one strictly for sport. Once again, I had to enter into man territory. Signs were everywhere at the sportsman's club.
They even had special ones on the restroom doors.
These almost leave me speechless.
The Deerslayer introduced me to the concept of loading the thrower,
and then setting up the speakers.
I have to say that the view was beautiful while we went about our work.
Soon the shooters arrived and practice began.
I made it out of there alive without any of that manliness rubbing off on me.
And, The Deerslayer shot a 99/100.
That's some good shootin', as the old-timers like to say.