Clay Shooting: The Beginning

A Bogardus Glass Ball from the Karl Hampel Collection

Note: This article first appeared in Hooks & Bullets Magazine March/April 2017 issue.

The day I first met Kevin Speer, the heart and soul behind Hooks & Bullets, we talked about many different subjects, one of them being my on-going efforts to write something that is readable without too much pain and discomfort to the reader. Another was that Kevin thought it would be nice to have some articles on clay shooting, since many readers showed interest in the subject, but were not familiar with the different forms of the shotgun sports.

But before we go any further I must make it very clear that my shotgunning parallel my writing: I am an enthusiast at both, but not really good, or just good, at either. And although I have published three books and written twenty or so magazine articles, I never shot a single registered shotgun target in my life, so…thread these lines with care!

Nowadays we have an apparently ever-increasing variety of shotgun sports, also called "Clay Pigeon Shooting", but the most common forms are Trap and Skeet. The basic difference is that in Trap the “birds,” as we call the four-inch diameter clay saucers lunched by a machine also called a trap, flies away from the shooter in a somewhat random pattern, while in Skeet the “birds” fly across the Skeet field in trajectories that are supposed to be fixed, unless wind plays tricks on the “bird,” or the shooter.

The other way of telling the difference between Trap and Skeet is by the behavior of their respective shooters: if everybody is hanging together, talking and laughing out loud you are in the middle of Skeet shooters; and if everyone is serious, concentrated, looking solely at their guns, and not saying a word besides “PULL”, the universal command to release a bird, now you find yourself among Trap shooters.

Since I shoot both Trap and Skeet, along with Sporting Clays, Five Stand, Skrap, and in more distant fields Bunker Trap (also called International or Olympic Trap) and Helix or ZZ-Birds, you could say that I must suffer from multiple personality disorder. C’est la vie!

But it amazes me is that with all the variety of clay shooting modalities that we have available in our modern times, many of us either forget or choose to ignore how the sport of shooting flying began.

Shotgunning as we know it today began in the later part of the XVIII century when the first practical shotguns came to light. By practical shotgun I mean a smooth bore long gun that was light enough that it could be handled relatively easily, ergonomically enough that a person could swing it while pointing at a moving target (for all practical purposes, a bird), and with a fast enough lock time (that is the time elapsed between pressing the trigger and the main powder charge being ignited and eventually the shot charge leaving the barrel) that would make it possible to hit a moving or flying target (again, a bird).

Bird hunting as a formal social activity originated in France, but was adopted by and perfected in England or the United Kingdom, and it is more than fair to say that shotguns first achieved perfection in that land, and a master gunsmith by the name of Joseph Manton is regarded as the creator of the first "Best Gun" and the forefather of the world-famous London Gun Trade.

The problem was, and continues to be, if you ever try shooting flying, is that once practical shotguns were available and hunting seasons were over, gentlemen of means, or of no means, still wanted to use them and demonstrate their newly acquired skills to the world, so friends began shooting at each others hats, thrown in the air for safety and to better imitate a bird (there is no historic evidence of that), but I imagine that they soon got tired of shooting at their hats, probably because it was boring and could become sort of expensive, since the beaver pelts to make those top hats had to be imported from America.

So they put their hats to use in a slightly different way. After digging a shallow hole on the ground, and place a live pigeon in it, they covered the hole and the pigeon with those hats. A long string was attached to the hat and the shooter (not a hunter anymore, but a shooter) would call "PULL" for whoever was manning the string to free the pigeon, and then shoot at it. In order to make the sport more challenging pigeons could be released from different positions, generally five.

Apparently those shooter had plenty of old hats (at least that is my assumption as they may have shot them before the pigeons became the accept flying target, again, no historic evidence), and they probably used those old hats, since one of the first famous Trap Clubs in England was called OLD HATS.

As the game evolved the old hats were replaced by wooden boxes that had a trap mechanism to release the birds and compel them into taking to the wing, therefore the name of the sport.

Eventually Trap reached the United States of America and the once abundant passenger pigeon became the target of choice, but once they became scarce (that was before they became extinct), and even in the XIX century animal rights activists began to make noise, the typical and unparalleled American ingenuity put itself to work to find suitable replacements for live pigeons.

First a Captain Adam Henry Bogardus invented the "Bogardus" glass ball in 1866. The glass ball was launched by a spring loaded trap with an arm that looked almost like a big spoon, but they made less than perfect replacement for pigeons: they were hard to see, hits were difficult to spot, so people started to fill them up with feathers, and many times shot would just slide around the smooth glass surface without breaking the targets. To correct that, the glass balls were made with textured surfaces, but the design proved to be a dead end.

Some years later, in 1880, the Cincinnati, Ohio, trap shooter George Ligowsky created the discoid clay pigeon, and we continue to shoot it today, launched from manual throwers or highly sophisticated automatic traps that hold hundreds of birds in their magazines.

From the humble beginnings (or maybe not so humble, as the first live pigeon shooter apparently were either of noble blood or had enough money to spend time with them), the multitude of "Clay Pigeon" sports evolved, but every single time I pull the trigger I envision my shot charge connecting with the feathers of a fast flying live pigeon against the blue sky.

Henrique's Hog Hunt

Drawing from the mighty hunter himself

My nephew Henrique came visiting from Brazil to spend a month during one of the nicest summers I can recall here in Traverse City, but his mind was in something much beyond summer and the blue waters of the West Arm of Grand Traverse Bay.

As the old saying goes, "you can take the boy out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the boy," and as soon as Henrique arrived the only things in his mind were hunting and shooting, and maybe a bit of fishing.

As you may or may not know, Brazil has some of the most draconian (and ineffective) guns laws in the world, so prior to his trip to Michigan the only things that Henrique had shot were an old and very loose air rifle and some rounds from a just as old and maybe as loose 410 shotgun.

So, as soon as he arrived at my home he was at the backyard shooting my Crosman 3357 .177" CO2 revolver. I tried to introduce him to other air guns, but he was just in love with the Python lookalike. Some days later I introduced him to Sporting Clays at Cedar Rod & Gun Club, and on the following Tuesday he discovered the world of Trap shooting, and after dropping my daughter and grandson at the Grand Rapids airport it was time to explore Cabela's.

But all these activities could not quench Henrique's thirst for hunting. The problem was that we were (or at the time of this writing are) right in the middle of summer, not the most convenient time of the year for the Sport of Kings, and I had to find a solution or either he would go crazy or worse yet, drive me crazy. The only practical and affordable solution was a hog hunt, and after searching the internet I settled for Super G Ranch, in Morley, MI, about two hours from my home.

Before going on with the story I would like to make a few comments: I really believe in fair chase hunting, but like many other hunters, and probably many of you, I've hunted preserve birds before and hunted in large high fenced properties in South Africa, and found both to have a place in the modern world of hunting. And one of most certain places is in introducing new hunters to the sport, especially when a young aspiring hunter is visiting from a far way place out of normal hunting season.

So we are back to Friday a week or so ago, waking up at 4:30 AM (one must really be a very nice uncle to do such a thing!), getting dressed (in my case, as Henrique slept with his clothes on) and getting on the road (my huntsmobile was already loaded with all the gear.) After a pancake breakfast at McDonalds we arrived at Super G Ranch just after 7:30 AM and Les, the owner, took us to a 540 acres high fenced hunting area about a mile from his home.

As we drove inside the inclosure and parked the huntsmobile under a nice shade tree, three or four pigs came to us as to be fed, and we just ignored them, even a very large hog that slowly moved away.

Henrique geared up, which consisted of a brand new Ka-Bar knife on his belt and my 1949 vintage Winchester Model 70 in 270 WCF. I carried a range finder and my Ruger SP101 357 Magnum, the later more for psychological comfort than real need.

The plan was to walk around the 540 acres until we saw a hog and then approach to a reasonable shooting distance, a classic stalking by any other name, and we started down a two track that pretty much bisected the enclosure. After three or four hundred yards I noticed some movement just off the two track, and we approached carefully and saw two whitetail does. We stared at each other for what seemed like a long time and they bolted into the undergrowth.

Shortly after we came upon a very large cow, most likely pregnant, and shooed her away, before crossing a creek. From there it was uphill, and the temperature started climbing with us.

After another half a mile or so, Henrique spotted some animals. It was a group of four or five very large pigs busily making a meal of whatever they had found. The rangefinder read 130 yards, and we decided to approach and check for hogs. As we closed the distance it became clear that there were only sows. We talked a bit and Henrique said he really wanted a hog.

We abandoned the sows and continued our journey into the "wilderness." After sometime heading west we came across a little marsh and had to cross another (or maybe the same) stream, and then came across some rams. And although the rams would make a nicer wall hanging trophy than a hog, I rather eat porc than mutton (but I will rather eat lamb than porc), so we let them be. They also didn't seem to mind us being around, another reason to ignore the rams.

We started heading south and had to cross yet another stream, and once again uphill we found several rather small pigs, and even with the higher temperatures decided that they were not what we were looking for. But after turning east into the woods to sort of close the loop, I noticed movement far ahead. It was a sounder of maybe ten or twelve animals, and they were foraging leisurely heading for the stream.

We moved at an angle to cut their path and when the sounder crossed the two track that we had originally walked on, two hogs, a black and a red, started fighting. It was nice to see their battle while the large sows moved around, apparently ignoring the would be suitors.

While the hogs filled the woods with their squeals and grunts we approach to forty yards, I told Henrique to kneel, and he selected the black hog, sending a 130 grain Remington Core-Lokt just behind the left shoulder. The sounder broke out towards the marsh, and the black hog arched in the opposite direction, not traveling more than ten yards before collapsing.

Henrique wanted to finish the hog with his new Ka-Bar, but I refused to let the accident-prone young men to risk an injury, and told him to put another bullet into the back of his head.

Les' daughter came retrieve the hog with a front-wheel loader and we walked back to the hunstmobile. We met Les at the barn to skin and quarter the 260 pound hog, and some good conversation, prior to starting back home.

Tomorrow I will smoke one of the hams in my Big Green Egg and bring it to Cedar Rod & Gun Club for Henrique's farewell party prior to his return to Brazil on Friday.

My New Hat

My New Hat

June is here and finally the cold and snowy winter is just present in our memory and while the dog days of summer don't arrive we can enjoy some nice time at the shotgun range, at least when I am not traveling on business, which is not very often.

Anyhow, yesterday my son Daniel and I drove to Cedar Rod & Gun Club (www.crgc.org) to shoot some Trap. Any form of shotgunning is always my preferred form of relaxation after a working day, and it is always more enjoyable if Daniel can come along, even if does not accept my coaching.

Driving from Old Mission Peninsula to Leelanau is always enjoyable, and I particular enjoy the country views once we leave M-72 and get 651 towards Cedar. The gentle rolling hills where farming and old growth forest intertwine always hide a deer or a flock of turkeys, keeping the distant fall hunting season alive in our hearts.

When we got to the club shooting was already underway and Daniel and I got engaged in some small talk with other members which soon turned to some new gun appreciation, as someone always has a new gun.

On our first round I started at station 5 and missed my seventh and eighth shots, which were taken at station 1, finishing with a score of 23. The Eighth Ammendment of the US Constitution prohibits cruel and unusual punishment, and while missing while shooting flying, be it birds or clay pigeons, is not unusual for me, it is always cruel to miss two birds in a row!

On the second round we only had four shooters in the squad which makes for a little faster pace, while I'd rather have a slower one. Anyhow, I was just "in the zone" and could focus the bird that was slightly affected by a rising air current with eagle eyes, despite being a middle aged grandfather. The Caesar Guerini Summit Limited was throwing the Remington Gun Club one ounce load of No. 8's exactly where they were supposed to go.

My last five shots were taken from station 3 and by the 21st or 22nd shot I had to start some yoga breath control in order to keep my concentration and avoid thinking about a possible twenty five straight, which is a clear receipt for disaster. The last shot was a straight-away bird, which is a harder shot for me, since I've always been a Skeet Shooter.

Anyhow, yesterday I had my first twenty five straight at Trap, and after everyone congratualted me they asked for my hat following a very old tradition, which may go as fas back as the OLD HATS pigeon club in England. Unusually I did not have one, so I bought a brand new CRGC hat, distributed ammunition to the other five shooters present, stuffed the had with a handfull of clay pigeons to give it some weight and threw it up.

The picture clearly shows what being hit by ten rounds of twelve gage ammo does. It turns a brandnew hat into an honorable Old Hat and a true trophy in seconds.

I just would like to thank all present to have allowed me to throw the hat in the air, rather than have to wear it when they shot it!

The Rebellion

The First National HDBF Shotgun Championship

It is no secret that shotgunning is a very important part of my life and that I get really annoyed with activities that interfere with my shooting, be it bird hunting or clay shooting, even if I miss more than my share of both kind of birds, the soft feathery ones or the hard clay pigeons.

It also should be no secret that I have a "corporate life" (whatever that may be), and that this means substantial amount of traveling and meetings, but for the most part I was able to fit in some amount of shotgunning after working hours. During the short but great year that I lived in Torino, Italy, I was able with the help of my friends Pino Facchini and Vito Benevelli to do a lot of shooting and enjoy many great meals throughout the Piemonte, Lombardia and the Venetto.

My current job takes me multiple times a year to southern Brazil, and in Caxias do Sul - RS I found the fantastic Clube Caxiense de Caça e Tiro where I made good friends, was treat to more great meals, and found an infrastructure that second to none in Brazil and fully comparable to the clubs I used to visit in Italy.

I was even able to get some bird hunting during the odd business trip or even when getting acquainted with new business partneres, but the "places" that would keep me away from shotgunning were conventions and business forums, that apparently are (or were) totally committed to golf, for whatever reason this may be.

I've never played more than three of four golf games in my life, but to say that this so called sport frustrates me is a gross understatement. The last game that I was forced to play (yes, I was actually forced to participate in a "team building" event that took place in a golf course) frustrated me so much that I threw one of the clubs away in a swamp.

But in the last couple weeks things started to change! I attended two conferences back to back, first in Phoenix, Arizona and then in La Jolla, California, and the rebellion started at these places or events.

As an alternative to golf, in Arizona about 30% (around 65 people) of the participants elected to shoot Sporting Clays at the fantastic Ben Avery Shooting Facility"s Clay Target Center. We shot the "Roadrunner Course" which had some very challenging target presentations, especially if you add the forty mile an hour winds that made the desert even drier. The range provided Beretta A-391 semi-automatic shotguns and Fiocchi one ounce 12 gauge shells. Truly a great combination, and I was told that I shot a 38 out of 50 possible and that I was high gun for the day.

The following week in California I passed on the "opportunity" to play golf at Torrey Pines from where the players have a gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean and instead got in a bus with a box lunch and eight other brave souls for the hour drive to the P2K Range in El Cajon.

When we got there we had to answer a safety questionaire (actually not a bad thing), rent shotguns, which were a mix and no match of everything from Caesar Guerini (at double the rent of the other guns), through Remingtons, Berettas, CZ's and a single Browning BT-99.

First we shot Trap and there Tim G. (the brave guy wearing a pink shirt in the center of the photo) demonstrated the capabilities of the classic BT-99 breaking 23 birds at trap. The pool shark later disclosed that he grew up on the birth place of modern trap shooting, the State of Ohio, and that at some time in his high school years he was Junior State Champion. Just another example of never to bet on a game unless you know all the players.

Then we shot Five Stand, which was a much more challenging course than I would have given credit to. As not all the shooters in our team were proficient with shotguns we decided to shoot single only and take only one shot per bird. Even with a very humbling 13 I was high gun under the hot and dry California afternoon.

On the way back to Torrey Pines instead of boxed lunches we made sure that we have enough cold beer to quench our thirst and divert our attention from the terrible traffic.

This is it. The rebellion has started. We may be few, but we know that we will prevail as palns are already in place for next year's events. Until there, keep on shooting!

Master Shotgunner

Fábio Dartora, the author, Luiz Roberto Viganó

Last week I was working at my company's headquarters in Caxias do Sul (RS), Brasil, and as I have done since my first visit to Caxias in July 2012, I spent some quality time at Clube Caxiense de Caça e Tiro (www.clubecaxiensecacaetiro.com.br) or CCCT.

CCCT is located on a beautiful mountain top and its fantastic infrastructure and cultural environment reminds me of some of the clubs that I used to visit in northern Italy during the brief one year period that I lived in Torino. As Caxias do Sul was colonized by Italian immigrants the similarity is not surprising, and it is also includes great food, ever available wine and the love for bird hunting.

From my first visit to CCCT I felt completely at home, enjoying many delicious meals, that spanned from fantastic and authentic churrasco gaucho to the delicious tortei, a local dish that combines the Italian ravioli pasta with the Brazilian pumpkin for a filling.

But the members make the real difference at CCCT. There is always a shotgun available if you want to shoot, and several occasions I was handled Borsoi's Franchi, Viganó's Beretta, or Gasperin's, the club president, Perazzi.

CCCT offers Bunker or Olympic Trap, American Trap, International Skeet, Sporting Clays, as well as pistol, rifle and archery ranges, and holds several tournaments during the year. In the last month CCCT held the finals for both Rio Grande do Sul state and Brazilian trap championships, and in one of the finals over three hundred athletes attended and around 60,000 clays were launched. In order to feed this small army the club grilled over seven hundred pounds of beef, pork and primo canto chicken.

Last Saturday afternoon CCCT held a very special tournament, the Master Shotgunner ("Mestre Atirador") which consists of a total of 45 clay pigeons equally divided among Bunker Trap, American Trap and International Skeet. As I was scheduled to start my trip back home just after lunch on Saturday I would not be able to participate, but during the Wednesday Fábio Dartora - Trap Director and CCCT president Mr. Gasperin invited me to shoot the tournament in the morning.

That being agreed, on Saturday morning Fábio and my wild boar hunting friend Luiz Roberto "Gordo" Viganó picked me up at the hotel and drove me to CCCT where using Viganó's Beretta 682 I proceeded to shoot a total score of 36. At the end of the day, when I was already far away, the winner was Jonata Penz scoring 38.

Being an accomplished shotgunner I can come up with any number of excuses to justify my poor performance like shooting with a borrowed gun, not having shot International Skeet in over four or five years, never having shot trap at CCCT, being particularly stressed by shooting all by myself (all other competitors shot in the afternoon), having traveled all the way from Traverse City, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…

But rather than come up with new and creative excuses I just would like to thank all my friends at Clube Caxiense de Caça e Tiro and congratulate them on maintaining and managing a world class shotgunning club in Brasil.

How it all began

Shot and feathers come together

Nowadays we have an apparently ever increasing variety of shotgun sports, also called "Clay Pigeon Shooting", but many of us either forget or try to ignore how the sport began.

Shotgunning as we know it today began in the later part of the XVIII century when the first practical shotguns came to light. By practical shotgun I mean a smooth bore long gun that was light enough that it could be handled relatively easily, ergonomic enough that a person could swing it while pointing at a moving target (really, a bird), and with a fast enough lock time (that is the time elapsed between pressing the trigger and the main powder charge being ignited) that would make it possible to hit a moving or flying target (again, a bird).

As widely discussed and publicized, shotguns first achieved perfection in England, and Joseph Manton is regarded as the creator of the first "Best Gun" and the forefather of the London Gun trade. 

The point is that once practical shotguns were available and hunting seasons were over, people still wanted to use them, so friends began shooting at each others hats thrown in the air (but there is no historic evidence of that), but I imagine that they soon got tired of shooting at their hats, probably because it was boring and could become sort of expensive, since the beaver pelts to make those hats had to be imported from America.

So they put their hats to other use. After digging a shallow hole on the ground, and place a live pigeon in it, they covered the hole and the pigeon with their hats. A long string attached to the hat and the shooter (not a hunter anymore, but a shooter) would order "PULL" for whoever was manning the string to free the pigeon, and then shoot at it.

Apparently those shooter had plenty of old hats (at least that is my assumption as they may have shot them before the pigeons, again, no historic evidence), and they probably used those old hats, since one of the first famous Trap Clubs in England was called the OLD HATS.

After the game reached the United States of America and the passenger pigeon became scarce (that was before it became extinct), the typical American ingenuity put itself to work to find suitable replacements for live pigeons. First Captain Adam Henry Bogardus invented the "Bogardus" glass ball in 1866, and then Cincinnati trap shooter George Ligowsky created the discoid clay pigeon in 1880, and we continue to shoot it today.

From these humble beginnings (maybe not so humble, as the first live pigeon shooter apparently were either of noble blood or had enough money to spend time with them), a multitude of "Clay Pigeon" spots was created, but every single time I pull the trigger I envision my shot charge connecting with the feathers of a fast flying live pigeon against the blue sky.