Long RangeHere’s a peeve I haven’t petted in a little while…

I got my new issue of Outdoor Life the other day, and as usual, I glanced eagerly at the cover in hopes of seeing my smiling face and/or a byline.  I mean, heck, they’ve dropped Patrick McManus and Jim Carmichel.  Certainly their standards are low enough to welcome me aboard by now.

But since I haven’t actually submitted so much as a query to that magazine in over a decade, and I haven’t shot a world-record cervid (or ovid, or hominid, or iPod, or anything else), odds of seeing myself on the cover or even the back pages are pretty danged slim.  So I satisfied myself checking out the articles for the month.  And there it was… glaring at me with a smug and self-satisfied look… another article about long-distance shooting, complete with a tag line that explains that, “sometimes it’s the only shot you’ll get!” 

What is it Charlie Brown says when he’s utterly exasperated by Lucy or Snoopy?  “AUUGGGGHHH!!!”

Once again, here’s the magazine that is arguably one of the most widely read hunting and outdoors publications in the country, if not the world, telling an entire landscape of readers that it’s OK to take shots clear across the county if there’s a “trophy” buck or bull on the receiving end.  God forbid you should miss this opportunity!  What kind of hunter would you be if you didn’t post up that Hail, Mary shot rather than trying to close the distance or, and here’s a thought, writing that one off and looking for a better opportunity?

Am I pushing it?  Maybe, but honestly… what the hell is with this obsession of killing animals from the next zip code? 

This is the thing.  I know that there are some people who are truly good, and practiced long-range marksmen.  They hone their skills constantly, know their equipment intimately, know the wind and how to read it, and have the patience and understanding to choose the perfect shot AND to pass on the imperfect.  (If nothing else, that last is most critical!)  If they enjoy long-range marksmanship and wish to practice it on game, then I can’t fault them because they can do it right and well.

Those individuals, though, are arguably in a single-digit percentage of the general hunting population.  The rest of us simply should not be slinging lead (or copper) at living things from long distances.  It’s irresponsible and, dare I say it, unethical.  Yeah, this is me, making an ethics call.   

But I stand by it, because it is simply wrong to intentionally take a risk that may well result in a crippled animal or a slow death when we have the option of passing that shot for another opportunity… or, even better, we can demonstrate hunting skill and woodsmanship by closing the range to a more reasonable distance.  If we failed, we failed, but if we succeed, then haven’t we really attained something much more valuable than simply poking a bullet through hundreds of yards of empty space?

There’s an awful lot of the “judgment call” in there, but I’m OK with that.  If you’re not an experienced long-range shooter AND hunter, then you have no business taking long-range shots at live animals. 

But I’ve said all this before.  Maybe this will make me a better long range marksman?

The point is that here is yet another article essentially telling anyone who can read that all they need to become proficient, long-range hunters is a fancy scope, a caliber that is only a few millimeters short of an ICBM, and a couple other gadgets.  Dial it in, punch up some numbers in the computer, make a little chart to stick to the stock of your rifle, and you, too, can make 500+ yard shots with aplomb.  In fact, if you read the article as I did, there’s a suggestion that you can use the computer and ballistics charts to dial in your rifle with barely a visit to the range (and I hope like hell that’s just me, and not really what the author was suggesting).

And there’s where I have the biggest problem with this whole thing.  Nowhere in the article does the author describe the process of becoming proficient at long-range marksmanship.  From what I read, all you need to do is find your animal way out at the edge of sight, settle in, and let the high-tech equipment do the work for you. 

Nowhere does the article talk about judging a “good” long-range shot from a bad one.  How do you decide when to shoot, when the bullet will take nearly a full second to arrive on target?  How many folks realize how far a deer can move in half a second? 

Do you know how far that breeze is going to move your bullet?  Do you realize that sometimes the wind on the other side of the canyon is different than the wind on this side?  Can you tell the difference? 

What about the importance of having a spotter for the shot, because it’s a damned guarantee that the shooter won’t be able to judge the hit most of the time?  How will you find the exact spot where that animal was standing when you took the shot?

It makes the decisions that play into making a clean archery kill seem trivial.  There’s just so much more that goes into this than running out and buying the hottest, super-duper magnum rifle, foreign-made scope with the latest ballistic-compensating reticle, a cool computer program, and a high-end laser range-finder.  Articles like this one do a disservice to the hunters and even moreso to the animals that will, I can promise you, be shot at and wounded from insanely long distances by people who read this crap and think they know what they’re doing. 

I can’t say this enough. 

Long range shooting is a highly technical skill, and while it’s lots of fun for all of us to do on stationary targets at a controlled range, it’s another thing altogether when you start shooting at living creatures.  For those hunters who have the skill, practice it, and know how and when to use it, I suppose it’s fine and good.  I don’t prefer it, and will always try to close to what I consider a more optimal range, but if you’re qualified I won’t judge your experience. 

I’ll wrap this up by offering what I think are a couple of reasonable guidelines.

Number One:
Never exceed the capabilities of your gun to deliver both precision and sufficient energy.  Most modern centerfire rifles can certainly exceed the shooter’s ability, but some are designed specifically for shorter ranges, and lose energy quickly at longer distances.  Even if you have the skill to “lob” the round into the kill zone, will the bullet still perform when it gets there? 

For example, I can consistently hit a ground-squirrel sized target with my .17HMR at well over 200 yards… but on an actual ground squirrel, there’s not enough energy left to kill it outright (unless placement is perfect).  In fact, since the animal so hit will usually crawl back into a hole after the shot, it’s hard to tell if it was killed or not.  The same scenario can play out with something like a 30-30 at 200 yards on a deer or hog, or with a .270 at 600 yards.   Yet here are articles, advertisements, and gear “reviews” promoting exactly that kind of thing.

Number Two:
Shoot within your own capabilities.

No matter what the capabilities of your equipment, keep your shots within a reasonable radius of the distance you’ve practiced.  Most hunters seldom shoot more than 100 yards, and most rifles and calibers are pretty reasonably effective at that distance, so this allows a sensible variation (drop, windage, etc.) out to about 200 yards or so. 

After 200 yards, there are too many variables to make a reliable shot unless you’ve practiced enough to know what your rifle and cartridge will do out there.  There’s a surprisingly big difference way out yonder than there is at the more moderate distances, and that difference grows exponentionally with every yard.   

The average hunter can’t even tell the difference between 200 and 300 yards without a rangefinder, which throws the whole thing into the realm of Kentucky Windage.  That’s a roll of the dice, but the real loser is the animal that takes a round in the ham, or through the gut. 

The tricky part of this is that a lot of hunters do get lucky, some more than once.  This leads to further dice rolls (hey, this is the thinking that built golf courses and luxury resorts in Las Vegas).  Maybe it’s “controlled luck” in the case of the hunter who actually is a good marksman at 100 yards, and manages to squeak a 300+ yard shot into the kill zone on something big as an elk, but it’s still luck.  It’s taking an unnecessary chance to kill an animal that you don’t have to kill in the first place.  And that leads to…

Number Three:
Get closer!

Nothing irks me more than hearing someone say they took an extremely long shot because they didn’t have any other choice.  That’s bullshit.  Sorry for the language, but it’s called for here.   There are always choices!

I know there is some awful rugged terrain in this country, and especially so in the western deserts and mountains where many of us hunt mule deer, elk, and sheep.  It is entirely feasible that you’ll be faced with an animal well beyond anything you’ve experienced in your range sessions.  Between you and that animal may be nothing but a thousand foot canyon, and daylight may be fading rapidly.  It may be a simple reality that there’s no way you can get to a comfortable range of that animal before darkness falls (or weather sets in, or any of a dozen other excuses). 

You do not have to take that shot. 

You can try to make the heroic stalk and get closer (you’d be amazed what you can do when properly motivated).  You can plan an attempt from a different location tomorrow.  You can try to find another animal.  You can appreciate that you found the monarch of the mountain and leave him be.

You will not starve if that animal walks away, or snoozes away the evening in peace.  No one will come and take away your guns, or your license, or your manhood if you don’t pull the trigger.  With the possible exception of a really short-tempered guide, no one is going to try to beat the hell out of you for passing up a risky shot.  You might get razzed about it back at camp, but a little beating on your ego sure beats losing a bad blood trail, or condemning an animal to a painful, lingering death. 

But the point is, the vast majority of times you absolutely can get closer.  Bowhunters kill the same game every season at distances less than 50 yards.  Every year they take trophies that rival or exceed those taken by gun hunters with nothing more exceptional than a stick and a string and maybe a few pulleys.  It can, very obviously, be done. 

(A special note to guided hunters…) 
I understand that you’ve paid a lot of money to go on that guided hunt.  You probably paid a lot for that tag too.  But don’t let your billfold manage your mind or cloud your better judgment.  Yeah, I know going home empty-handed after spending thousands on a big game hunt sucks.  I’ve done it myself, and know the feeling.  But I also know the feeling of making a bad shot and losing a great animal… and I can guarantee that feeling is worse.  When you bought the tag, you didn’t pay for an animal, you paid for the opportunity to hunt an animal.  Don’t confuse the two.

I also understand that a guide can sometimes put pressure on you to take a shot you may not be comfortable with.  (As a guide, I’m afraid I’ve been guilty of this myself.)  That’s a tough call, and most hunters will give in to the pressure.  Hopefully, your guide is conscientious and has calculated to reduce the margin for error as much as possible.  But in the end, only you and the animal will have to live with the consequences of pulling the trigger.  The animal has no choice, so it’s your call alone, not the guide’s. 

Number Four:
How far is too far?

“Long-range” is somewhat subjective.  There is no hard and fast rule, because different hunters have different abilities.  500 yards is as simple to some guys as 100 yards is to others.  I suppose it could be based off of the terminal performance of the rifle, but as I mentioned, most modern firearms can significantly outperform most modern hunters’ abilities. 

Personally, I don’t like shots over 250 yards, and then only under ideal conditions (solid rest, reliable rifle/cartridge, standing target, etc.).  I’m fairly sure I could make a longer shot, but I’m not absolutely sure. 

And there’s a criteria you can rely on right there… if it’s too far for you to be absolutely sure of a hit, then you shouldn’t take the shot.  

I’m not saying to guess.  I’m saying your experience with your rifle and equipment has prepared you to the point that you know where that bullet will impact if you take that shot.  You may still miss, but if you should be surprised that you missed… not the other way around. 

Of course, this is a fairly elastic criterion because field situations are not all equal.  Squatting on loose shale on a 40-degree slope may mean anything over 50 yards is too far, while rock steady on flat ground with a perfect rest lets you stretch that confidence out a little. 

But I’m hoping you get the idea… shooting at some distance that makes you think twice means you really should do just that… think twice and reconsider the shot. 

Number Five:
It’s never “necessary”.

The only time it’s “necessary” to take a long shot is when it’s an honest matter of life or death.  For sport hunters in this day and age, that’s simply not a likely scenario. 

There is always another day, another animal, or another hunt. 

Everything I’ve written here is based on what I believe is a shared ethic, that a hunter’s sole responsibility to the prey is to take every opportunity to offer a clean, quick death.   All of the hunter’s tools are perfectly capable of this… it’s the hand of the person wielding the tool that makes the difference. 

We can’t be perfect, but we can stack the deck in our favor.

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