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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
So this past weekend I made my first trip to the capital forest gravel pit. We find the pit with no problems, park close to the gate and start humping our weapons and range bags to the firing line. Once inside the pit there is and old coot sitting next to his truck, chain smoking and reading the paper? Smugly he starts telling me about all the time he spends in the pit cleaning up garbage blah blah blah and as he is rambling I check out his multiple buckets of sorted brass in the bed of his truck. I look around the ground and see hundreds of steel cased shells but not even one .22 brass shell. OK I see what your about and really I could care less, hell ask me for the spend casing and I will give them to you.

He tells me he has the gate key so I'm like hey....open her up so I don't have to hump this stuff. Nope he will have no part of that and goes back to telling me about the time he spends there...blah blah blah. **** I would have gave him $20 bucks to open the gate while I was there and it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere. OK Fine.

So I'm kinda ****ed at this guy now as he sits there watching us and others hump their gear but whatever I'm here to shoot. Shooting goes on for a few hours as we use up magazines faster then a bum on a ham sandwich. The entire time this cantankerous old cus lurks about 50 feet away. Finally he can't take it any more and he comes over to me with an empty bucket and tells me about all the shotgun husks he has cleaned up and instructs me to pick up the husks and put them in his bucket. Now as he is giving me instructions on the shotgun husks his eyes are scanning the ground like a terminator counting up the hundreds of fresh shells littering the ground. In his hand he has these long tweezer like grabbers for picking up the brass and those tweezers are snapping together in anticipation like crabs claws waiting for a meal. I purposely nod and do not say anything so he was no choice but to shuffle back to his truck without conversation.

Couple of other guys out there shooting come over and ask me about a Saiga we have have and guns in general then one of them asks me about this empty shotgun husks and can he have them...BIG GRIN :) I say sure you can have them and he starts picking them up....old coot see this and he is on his way over, he stops about 15 feet away and stares for a few minutes as my new best friends pick up his meal ticket. He walks over picks up the empty bucket he dropped off and sulks back to his truck. I take the time to pick up every empty brass shell and pack up and go home.

So who is this self proclaimed policemen of the pit?
 

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You can draw more flies with honey instead of vinegar! I would have done the same thing!:D
 
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