Born Shooters.—Every man who uses a gun at all will feel an ambition to use it skillfully, and when he finds himself falling short of his aspirations he will apply to his gunsmith for instructions, for the gunsmith is expected to set the owner all right as well as his gun. There will be some difference in results to the gunsmith, however, for when the gun gets out of fix, and the gunsmith repairs the imperfections, the owner expects to pay for services rendered, but not so with reference to himself. He will expect the gunsmith to spend an hour or so in telling him how to shoot, but it will not occur to him that time is worth the same in dollars and cents spend it as we may, hence he will never think of tendering the slightest remuneration for the time consumed in giving him instructions. We have often thought that a chapter in some book telling about all there is to tell the novice on the subject of shooting would be worth a great deal to the gunsmith, as he could turn it over to his inquiring customers and go on about his work, leaving them to sift out from the “black and white” the information desired, taking their own time for it, and digesting everything in accordance with their own notions. And right here, it may be remarked, is a proper place to put in just such a chapter, which is done without further preface.
Some popular writer has said that, like the poet, the first-class shot with a gun, or the “dead shot,” as he is often called, must be born such—he cannot be made. Good shooting is a fine art, and in none of the fine arts can perfection be acquired where there does not exist a natural talent, or natural capacity, if the term be better. Any man with fair calculation and a reasonably good mechanical eye may, by practice, become a very passable shot, but without this peculiar natural requirement, which no one can clearly explain, it will be impossible for him to ever excel as an expert marksman.
It is not often that a real born shot is met with—they are about as scarce as true poets and true painters. When one does meet with him one soon knows him, if there is any shooting going on. Perhaps he is at his first shooting match. He does not know himself as a “shootist,” possibly. Curiosity alone, it may be, prompts him to try a shot, so he takes the gun, and wholly without study or previous experience, blazes away, and, to the astonishment of all present, shoots almost to perfection. It is in him as a gift. Some peculiar balance in his organization is the cause of it, and it is folly to be envious even in the least degree. Nor is it worth while to despair because such a peculiar balance of organization did not happen to fall to “our” lot. If there be a wish to succeed, a little patient study, industry and practice may soon bring the “shootist” up to the average at least, and that will leave no reasonable cause for complaint.
How to Shoot.—This part of the subject need not be brought down to the simple operation of merely discharging a gun, for it is supposed that every person with common sense, and old enough to handle a gun would know how to discharge it when loaded. What is meant, then, by “how to shoot,” is how to shoot well, and to enable any one to do this, one of the most important requisites lies in taking aim on the object at which is expected to be shot. Most young gunners close one eye in this operation, which, according to the best authorities, is entirely wrong. A man will learn to take correct aim with a shot-gun much sooner by keeping both eyes naturally open than he will by holding one closed. Once got in the habit of shooting with a closed eye, it will be found a most difficult habit to break up—the “hiding eye” will “close up” just as the finger is being pressed upon the trigger. And with that “closing up” is very apt to come a deviation of the gun from the line of correct aim.
Some years ago Mr. Dougall, in his “Shooting Simplified,” advanced many strong arguments in favor of shooting with both eyes open, basing them upon correct science. He says the person who takes aim with one eye closed has robbed himself of half his vision. The single open eye cannot see the whole of the object at which it looks, but only a part, or one side of it. Then, it requires the use of both eyes to see and calculate distance correctly. One eye may outline a thing, but it calls for the employment of two eyes to give it a perfect perspective.
When an object is hastily caught within the range of both eyes, the sense of vision is instantly assured as to position of the object, its distance from the gun, and, if moving, the rate of speed at which it is going. By a mental operation the brain is promptly impressed with all this, giving confidence and, consequently, calmness. Here the main point favoring success has been attained—calmness and a strong belief that the shot is going to succeed. The moment when this is felt is the one in which to press upon the trigger. It means that a correct sight is secured, whether there be time to think about it or not, and hence an instantaneous discharge of the gun is almost sure to bring down the game.
Since beginning to write this book one of the authors interviewed a wonderfully successful sportsman with reference to his mode of taking aim at birds on the wing. “Why, bless your soul!” said he, “I never take aim at all. I throw my gun in range of the bird, look at the bird with both eyes open, and the moment a feeling comes over me that I shall kill the bird if I shoot, I pull the trigger, and it’s about always my bird.” So it is. But this expert is evidently mistaken with reference to taking aim: he takes aim mechanically. He thinks only about killing the bird, without thinking about taking aim, and in response to the securing of a perfect aim comes the feeling, unexplained in his thoughts, that if he shoots he shall kill the bird. It is simply a powerful concentration of thought, which is always of paramount importance in shooting. A mind scattering over all creation at the time of shooting is no more to be depended upon for good results than a gun scattering to all sides of a ten-acre field. There must be concentration in both cases. A man cannot buy goods, grow crops, swap horses, make poetry, edit a newspaper and kill birds on the wing with unvarying success all at the same instant.
Brewster on the Use of Two Eyes.—As the novice who has not devoted much thought to the subject of shooting, will be apt to feel some surprise at the idea of the use of both eyes being recommended in taking aim, the liberty will be assumed of quoting a paragraph from the writings of Sir David Brewster, offering it as evidence in substantiation of the foregoing position. In his able work on the Stereoscope he says: “When we look with both eyes open at a sphere, or any other solid object, we see it by uniting into one two pictures—one as seen by the right, and the other as seen by the left eye. If we hold up a thin book perpendicularly, and midway between both eyes, we see distinctly the back of it and both sides with the eyes open. When we shut the right eye, we see with the left eye the back of the book and the left side of it; and when we shut the left eye, we see with the right eye the back of it and the right side. The picture of the book, therefore, which we see with both eyes, consists of two dissimilar pictures united, namely, a picture of the back and left side of the book as seen by the left eye, and a picture of the back and right side of the book as seen by the right eye.”
This argues that the sportsman who closes one eye at the time of taking aim at an away-going bird, really has a very imperfect view of it—but half a picture, as it were—hence the aim could not possibly be so perfect as in case where the picture was rendered more distinct by the use of both eyes, in accordance with the clear explanation of Sir David, who goes on to state:
“But though we see with one eye the direction in which any object or point of an object is situated, we do not see its position or the distance from the eye at which it is placed. In monocular vision we learn from experience to estimate all distances, but particularly great ones, by various tests, which are called the criteria of distance, but it is only with both eyes that we can estimate with anything like accuracy the distance of objects not far from us.
“The most important advantage which we derive from the use of two eyes is to enable us to see distance, or a third dimension in space. That this vision is not the result of experience as monocular vision is, is obvious from the fact that distance is seen as perfectly by children as by adults; and it has been proved by naturalists that animals newly-born appreciate distance with the greatest correctness.”
Dougall’s Reasoning.—Mr. Dougall says, in his “Shooting Simplified,” that “A thorough good gun will knock over a hare running broadside, with four or five shots at seventy yards distance, but full elevation must be taken, and the gun fired with the head well raised and the eyes kept steady on the aim, not taking sight along the rib, with the eye well down behind the breech, as has been erroneously recommended.
“Distance requires elevation in proportion. A rifle is fitted with graduated sights to meet this, but the elevation of the rib of a fowling-piece is fixed and immovable. But by a simple law of perspective, when you look at a hare (or any other object) seventy yards away, bringing mechanically the sight to bear upon it, you have the breech of the gun lower than if it were only forty yards off; whereas, if you adopt the one-eye system, you fire at exactly the same elevation at all distances. It would be as absurd to take a level aim along the rib at seventy yards as it would be to fire a rifle at a mark at two hundred yards with the sight set for one hundred.
“While everything has been done to increase the range of the fowling-piece, nothing has been done to give the elevation necessary to take full advantage of the increase of power. As long as the one-eye system of shooting is adopted, the object, if hit at all, will be struck only by outside weak pellets, and not by the effective central shot.
“The proper way is to throw the gun well up and into the shoulder; the setting off of the stock will then bring the gun right in front of the face; and, the head being erect, and both eyes fixed intently on the object, the line of motion is commanded, and the aim taken instinctively. The central pellets have thus an allowance given them to compensate for distance and the motion of the object. You look along the imaginary line, higher at the breech according to distance, and at this elevation the gun is fired, exactly as a rifle target-shooter sets his breech sights to a given distance.
“How does a man drive a nail? Certainly not by closing one eye and looking along the hammer; but with both eyes open, he mechanically balances the hammer and strikes instinctively, never, if accustomed to the use of the tool, missing his aim. It is the same in shooting.”
Coming directly to the subject of employing binocular vision in taking aim to shoot, Mr. Dougall quotes from a paper in Once-a-Week to the effect that monocular vision, while much employed for this purpose, cannot at all be depended upon. To prove this position, place upon a table an empty small-mouthed vial, and taking another similar vial full of water in one hand, shut an eye and approach the vial upon the table; when apparently near enough, stretch out your arm quickly and endeavor to pour the water from the full vial into the other, still keeping the eye closed. You will be very apt to find, as the water comes down, that it is missing the mouth of the empty vial on account of a miscalculation, due to monocular vision. Now repeat the operation with both eyes open, and if care is exercised success will be the invariable result. A similar miscalculation will be shown to the person who endeavors to approach and snuff a candle with one eye shut.
Mr. Dougall thinks there can be no reasonable question as to the advantages of learning to use the shot-gun with both eyes open. This has been proven time and again by the most rigid tests. It is even a settled fact that the nearer the eyes of an individual set together in the head the less he is likely to shoot well. “And yet,” says Mr. Dougall, “how strange it is to find sportsmen who would still further narrow this fine provision of nature into the diameter of one retina only. Throwing the fowling-piece into a line with the object of aim by an instinctive effort, keeping both eyes firmly fixed on and following the flight of the object, is the first great principle in shooting well.”
Gloan on Taking Aim.—The clever author of a neat little book entitled “The Breech-Loaders,” tells us that when the shot leave the gun the powder which propels the pellets has started them with sufficient force to keep them up for a short time against all natural resistances acting upon them, but finally gravitation, which is pulling upon them all the time, begins to tell, and carry them downward from the line upon which they set out.
“The shot have a journey to perform after they leave the gun, and before they reach the bird. It may be a long journey or a short journey, according to the distance of the bird; but still it is a journey, and it takes some time to do it in. While the shot are traveling on their way, the bird is flying on his way. If the bird is flying across the shooter, and the aim is at the bird, naturally, by the time the shot get to the point of aim, the bird has gone on beyond it, and is untouched by the shot. And if the distance is great, gravitation has affected the shot and pulled them down below the point of aim. Possibly, too, the wind is strong, and has blown them a little to one side. So that, assuming that a sportsman aims steadily and exactly at a cross-flying bird, sixty yards distant, going a mile a minute, the gun making a pattern good enough to kill, what results?
“When the shot arrive at their point of destination they are from eight to ten feet behind the point to which the bird has flown; and they are from ten to twelve inches below the line upon which the bird was flying. If the wind is high they are blown aside, even on the lower line, and the other pellets become harmless if they hit. The bird escapes, as a matter of surprise to the young sportsman, who is confident that he ‘covered it exactly.’
“He did cover it, literally, and exactly, and that was the cause of the miss. If he had aimed the length of a fence rail ahead of the bird and half the length above it, he would probably have brought it down. As the shot was, however, the bird was sure to be lost.
“An old shot will shine on range and allowance. His eye will measure distance as though with a tape-line. He will estimate velocity as with a registering instrument. He makes his cheek an index of the wind, and before his gun is at his shoulder he has decided with unfailing skill where the aim must be, and there he plants the load. If the bird does not fall it is the gun’s fault, not his.
“By the binocular vision these difficulties, which are so trying to the novice, are the more readily overcome. The eyes take in the flight of the bird, and convey the rate of speed at which it flies. The full distance of the whole perspective of the landscape is made palpable to the sense, and the finger responds to the call, which is made all the more quickly and all the more truly because of the certainty which the eyes impart.”