Sniper School Pays Off (One Shot, One Kill)

WARNING: If you can't deal with killing vermin, don't read this.

This was written 1998-Nov-08 when we lived in the country, near Jonestown.

The other night, I found out we had a mouse in the house.

I realized that we had no mouse traps.

After pumping up Josiah's air rifle (mine needs a new cocking spring), I realized it was empty - no BBs. The mouse disappeared, and did not come back out, even though I went through the trouble of getting the pellets out and inserting one in the air rifle.

The next day, both Sharon and I forgot to get mouse traps. That night, wen everyone else was in bed, I heard a noise in the kitchen; the mouse was using the gas range top as a playground. It disappeared as I peeped around the corner. Clever little devil.

I chose a suitable, hidden location (the table), complete with rifle rest (a small, wooden tissue box cover someone with bizarre taste gave us). I cleared all collateral objects (salt shakers, dish washing detergent, ceramic duck) from the field of fire. I made sure there was a suitable backdrop (a wall), to avoid any collateral damage (broken windows). I baited the trap (placed grated cheese in the middle of the range top).

I then sighted in my rifle on the target area, all of six feet away. Since the rifle was actually sighted in for 25 feet, I guesstimated that I needed 1/2 inch of additional muzzle elevation (tall sights). I settled in and waited.

After a few moments, the enemy made a scouting mission. He darted across the field of fire, reconnoitered, and darted back. I focused on the front sight and continued to breathe slowly and evenly. Again he darted through, pausing briefly near the cheese this time. I kept my finger over the trigger, but didn't move it.

A moment later, he darted straight into the middle of the cheese. Stopped dead in my sights. I aimed just above his spine, slowly squeezed the trigger.

There was a loud pop. The sights jumped slightly. The mouse did a flip in the air. I heard the whine of the ricochet. Something lodged in my hair. The mouse landed on its feet, scurried a few inches, and stopped across the burner hole. It relaxed and fell through, dead. As I got up and walked over to check it, the pellet, thoroughly flattened, fell out of my hair. [1]

I put the mouse in a Ziploc body bag, cleaned up the blood, and buried him under the coffee grounds in the kitchen trash can.

How did it feel? It didn't really. Not really good or bad. A tad sad, but I just did the job I had to do. Not that hard a shot, nothing to be especially proud of. Just an unpleasant job that had to be done.

It was the next morning I realized I'd blown it. I should have put the body bag in the freezer, next to Sharon's frozen snake. "Frozen Roadkill City - Fun For The Whole Family! 5 Miles Ahead!"

-Miles, Great White Hunter

[1] "Oh, gross! Mouse guts and blood in your hair!" -Sharon