Chapter V: Some Shooting Psychology

SECOND BARREL SHOOTING--THE EFFECTS OF RECOIL, FLINCHING, CONCENTRATION, SELF-CONFIDENCE

Perhaps the greatest weakness of the average field shot lies in his use of the second barrel. From my observation only the odd man can place his second charge with prompt accuracy, this being particularly true of clay bird performers who from habit fire but one barrel. The observation applies with equal force to the ordinary sportsman, not one in ten of whom has a deadly second barrel. Having faithfully endeavored to ascertain the reasons for this, I will briefly set forth my conclusions.

The best second barrel shots that I have seen were men trained to live pigeon and wildfowl work, varieties of shooting more generally practiced twenty years ago than to-day. Live bird shooting at the traps is now generally forbidden by law, and the fowl are not distributed so widely as they once were. The pigeon shooter commonly fired both barrels at every bird, often for the sake of safety, when the second charge was really not necessary to kill. The distance he was placed from the traps, from twenty-eight to thirty-three yards, made it imperative that he send in his loads with the utmost dispatch, a quick half snap with the first and a rapid swing on with the second barrel. Then, too, under some rules the boundary was so short that the bird must be killed in the fraction of a second or it might fall out of bounds.

Trained to such conditions the pigeon shot cracked in his second barrel involuntarily, without a second thought or the least delay to verify the effect of the first charge. A hundred or even a thousand dollars might depend upon that second barrel driving in true and fast, the man who could not learn to place it in a quarter of a second soon dropping out of the game.

Though the shooting was from unknown ground traps, it was nothing unusual for a fast bird to be caught within twenty feet of where he sprang, and should the first charge fail the second would follow ere the pigeon had gone five yards farther.

Such rapid work as this is not absolutely essential on game, nevertheless it is the standard of excellence which the field sportsman should endeavor to attain. The gunner who cannot deliver his second charge in from a quarter to a half second after the first will not find it to avail him much, and as a rule will fall into the common habit of letting the bird go after it has escaped the first pattern.

The wildfowl hunter is a good second barrel man also, and equally with the pigeon shooter from habit. These birds often fly in flocks which necessitates the use of both barrels; additionally many single ducks are struck without being killed outright which demands the use of the second barrel before the fowl can reach the water and dive. While the wildfowler is not so sharp as the pigeon shot about pulling either his first or second load he is no less accurate and positive about it. Like the man of the traps, he knows before his piece comes to the shoulder that both barrels are to be fired, and hence there is never a delay to note what the first charge has accomplished.

The general run of upland shots go at the matter differently. Almost invariably they seem to believe that the first barrel will surely kill, the immediate brain impression when they see the bird still going on being one of surprise; recovering from this, they either fire the second barrel so quickly as to practically have no aim, or a slow, pottering second is sent in after the target is out of range. Either the unaimed or the pottering second charge is so generally ineffective that the gunner soon comes to depend entirely upon his first load.

Here is the trouble so far as I can analyze it. If the second barrel is to do perfect execution, the brain must complete its work _before the first shot is fired_. There is absolutely no time to think between the first and second shots, the mind barely retaining sufficient control to prevent the shot going in when the bird is unquestionably a dead one. Indeed in the case of pigeon shots, the barrel might be delivered involuntarily whether the bird were dead or alive, this not altogether for safety as has been supposed, but rather because the finger was predirected to pull and there was no time to think or to stop it.

I have had the same thing happen to me in field shooting, when having made up my mind previous to delivering the first shot that the bird was a hard one and would probably escape, I could not avoid sending in the second barrel automatically after the bird was dead. This never happens except from brain orders that antedated the discharge of the first barrel. This is an extreme style of second barrel work, such promptness not being requisite in the field, but it is far more effective than the lame, halting method generally seen. So true is this that if I were coaching a novice in the use of his second charge he would be required to pull it invariably, alike when the bird was killed or untouched.

It follows from the foregoing that where the second barrel is to be made deadly there must be no pause in the aiming swing of the gun which should travel right along on the path of the bird’s flight ready to be discharged the instant the gunner recovers from the recoil of the previous shot. The swing should be kept so true to the line of the bird’s flight that in place of the arm hanging where first fired, it should be pointing within a foot or two of the target when the shooter has steadied himself sufficiently to aim again. On the other hand, having checked his piece, waiting to note the effect of the first load, the marksman will find his arm pointing so far from the bird that he either has to move the line of swing so rapidly that it becomes uncontrollable, or a slow swing will permit the game to get beyond range.

We will take the flight of a quail as an example. Should it break cover at twenty yards, it would on the average travel some forty feet before being fired upon, which would place Bob White distant thirty-three yards for the right barrel, delivered in less than a second. Now waiting to realize that the game has been missed would give the quarry another quarter of a second or fifteen feet; then, with a motionless gun, swinging on again from the previous point of aim will consume an additional half second, thirty feet, or a total of forty-five feet from where the first shot was fired, placing the quail forty-eight yards from the gun for the second barrel. On the contrary had the swing of the gun been maintained automatically the second shot should have been placed within twenty feet of the first, catching the bird when he was distant forty yards and still within reach of a good gun. None of the figures has been overdrawn and they can readily be verified by observing the efforts of sportsmen afield.

THE EFFECT OF RECOIL

It might be argued that it doesn’t require the fourth of a second for the mind to realize a miss which the eye can see instantly. So it would not except for the effect of shock upon the human brain, the shock of recoil. Furthermore, when the mind has just concluded a strenuous piece of work, like aiming and firing a gun, it pauses an instant before tackling a fresh problem. Combining this cessation of brain recording with the shock of recoil which causes the brain to cease acting entirely for a space of time, however small, and we have a loss of at least a quarter of a second--sometimes more. In fact so far has the bird flown meantime that the gunner despairs of being able to reach it and so withholds his fire.

Recoil and its effects upon the shooter are worthy of careful study. It affects every one, but in varying degrees. It has been observed that the most noted pigeon shots are men of strong physique, some of them seeming almost impervious to recoil, on the same principle that a pugilist might without blinking an eye take a blow on the jaw which would render an ordinary man unconscious. The jar of a shotgun’s recoil and the blow of a fist differ only in the extent of shock and the time needed to recover. The shotgun may knock you out for perhaps not more than the tenth of a second, while the fist blow puts you away for ten minutes.

Nevertheless, no matter how hardy the constitution of the man, even a John L. Brewer, there is a shorter or longer space of time after a shot is fired when he can do nothing except he does it involuntarily, for the brain has been momentarily shocked into a state of coma. Notwithstanding this the nerves and muscles can be taught to accomplish orders given previous to this shock, maintaining certain actions automatically, or as we say from habit. The boxer does this when he starts a blow and sends it in after receiving such a jarring slap himself that he cannot remember when his own fist landed. If anyone doubts the effect of recoil shock upon the brain, let him try to recall the movements of his gun muzzle immediately subsequent to firing.

In the case of the writer his first distinct knowledge of where his gun is directed is when he finds it pointing below the target. Reasoning the matter out, he knows that the muzzle first flew up and then reacted downward, but from anything the brain has actually recorded it simply dropped below the point of aim. Accepting the foregoing as true we can see the need of acquiring a habit of maintaining the swing, such an absolutely fixed habit as to require no direct brain control.

FLINCHING

However, the shock of recoil doesn’t interfere with the work of a gunner so much as its anticipation, an anticipation that causes flinching and dodging before the shot is fired. Flinching after the recoil takes place would not merit much consideration, in fact would not be flinching. Flinching interferes so greatly with the delivery of both the first and second barrels, especially the latter, that we must analyze and give it full consideration.

The commonly accepted conclusion is that in shooting flinching is due entirely to the fear of punishing recoil. It is supposed to consist of blinking and dodging to such an extent as to deflect the muzzle, one man perhaps merely blinking while another dodges, or possibly blinks and dodges. My own conclusion is that flinching cannot in all cases be analyzed so simply as that.

Recoil undoubtedly is a prime factor in the trouble, but the sharp report of the gun has its influence also, for people with a tendency to flinch have noted an improvement in their work where a longer barrel was used, thus carrying the stunning noise farther away from the head. The loud report may cause more actual pain also than even the jolt of the butt stock. Mr. Roosevelt illustrates this in “African Game Trails” when telling how the heavy report of his elephant rifle caused bleeding of the nose and ears of a companion who stood beside him. It is claimed for the Maxim Silencer that it greatly lessens the inclination to flinch.

The above causes of flinching are obvious, but many flinch when shooting a 22 rifle which has neither recoil nor any undue noise. This might be ascribed to habit, but people dodge who are not in the habit of shooting at all.

Careful study of the matter has led me to believe that flinching is as much due to the strain of aiming and firing as any other cause. It requires a highly concentrated effort to hold either a shotgun or rifle perfectly steady and pull the trigger. The mind and nerves may not be able to sustain this strain for any great length of time, and certainly both are glad to be relieved of it as quickly as possible. Sometimes the brain gives up the task just an instant too soon, permitting the muscles to have their will of the piece, and of where it might afterward be pointed neither the eye nor the brain will take any cognizance.

Being overstrained, mind and nerves go on a strike, quit temporarily, making no further records until after the discharge takes place. Of whatever happens during this interim the shooter has no knowledge, though another man standing near can observe perfectly and tell him, generally much to the gunner’s surprise, and often little to his conviction. Whatever the eye might see, if the brain refrained from making any record, that particular thing never happened so far as the gunner’s mind and memory are concerned. This is what renders it extremely difficult to cure flinching, the fact that so far as the marksman’s own knowledge is concerned it never occurred. He did not know it and could not know it except from the observation of others and a reasonable conviction based upon the effects of the shot.

Moreover the brain sometimes makes records with perfect clearness of things which never occurred. For instance, the shooter notes the speed of flight of the target, the velocity with which his line of swing is traveling to cover the mark, and calculates where he must hold in order to connect, but just at this instant the brain ceases to act, and the movements it has recorded as having taken place were never in fact accomplished. The result is a miss which to the marksman must always remain an absolute mystery.

The duration of time of which the marksman has no record, that is the space in which his brain is practically paralyzed, varies greatly with different individuals, though I am impressed with the belief that everyone is affected without exception. It might not last longer than the twentieth of a second, a time so short that it would have no practical influence upon gunner’s work, or it might have such duration as to make him very slow with the second barrel.

Moreover the mind may take cognizance of what is occurring without being able to take the initiative; it can note what is transpiring without having the power to give active commands. Afterwards the shooter can remember what took place and see where he missed an opportunity, but cannot tell why he failed to take advantage of it. We note examples of this kind in ordinary life: someone may neglect to act at a critical period and we say he lacked presence of mind--the shock caused a cessation of brain control. The brain may either not have been acting at all, or it may have been like the engine of an automobile that is pounding away with the clutch disengaged. In such an event, if muscles and nerves accomplish anything they must do it automatically; the machine could only go forward from previous momentum.

That is the point we are trying to drive home in shooting. For an infinitesimal or greater length of time when a shot is fired the brain having lost control under shock, the muscles must be taught to carry on certain actions without conscious effort and yet with precision. There is no question but they can be trained to do this and it must be done if any great brilliance in marksmanship is ever to be attained. The greater the effect of recoil upon the gunner, the longer space of time in which the brain fails to function, the more thoroughly must nerves and muscles be taught to do things automatically, or instinctively, or unconsciously, call it what you will.

Could training of this nature be made perfect, the shooter might sight his target, throw up his gun to cover the bird, mentally calculate the point where it would be killed, that is where line of aim and line of flight would connect, and then all brain effort having ceased the shot would be fired at the given point, and the piece carried on to where the second charge was to be sent.

The writer has seen something similar to this accomplished numerous times in night shooting. The bird having shown only for an instant, giving its line and speed of flight, then disappeared utterly, but was killed with almost the same certainty as though it had been in plain sight. Naturally no second barrel could have been fired under such circumstances, because the result of the first barrel would not be seen, but had the gunner become aware in some way that he had missed, he might still have killed the bird with his remaining load, the whole mental effort being matured in the short space of time the bird was in sight.

The gist of this is that flinching, the cause of which is overstraining mind and nerves, can be cured by rigid training, but where the cause is an actual fear of punishment, either sound or jab, it is a different matter. The trite saying that prevention is better than cure applies with special force here. Had I the coaching of a lady or sensitive lad in shotgun shooting, no heavily charged twelve bore would ever be tolerated; I would choose a twenty gauge of more than normal weight, with barrels thirty or thirty-two inches long, and charge them lightly. Bad eggs are never so laid, but chemistry can do little for them after they have passed a certain stage; granting we have fair eyesight, nature has kindly endowed us with every power necessary to the making of a good shot, but very often indeed we foil her good intentions.

CONCENTRATION

Concentration is not a quality of an untrained mind. The expert shot may not know Latin, Greek or mathematics, but his mind has been trained to concentrate more absolutely than would be needful in solving algebraic problems. Whatever his knowledge of gunnery, a man cannot be considered reliable with either rifle or smoothbore without the ability to fix his mind upon one thing to the utter exclusion of everything else in the world.

A rifleman who shoots upon the range with his fellows must so train himself that he will not hear the gun that is discharged within four feet of his head. The pigeon shot who could not prevent his mind from dwelling upon previous misses would never excel in the sport. I have known two crack quail shots to cross their guns without knowing it when a bevy broke, and one of them shot off the muzzle of the other’s gun. If, after selecting one bird of a bevy at which to fire, the marksman still sees other birds, the chances are that he misses them all. The shooter who can see trees that are liable to interfere with his aim would probably miss the target were the trees absent.

Some sportsmen cannot shoot well in company from inability to free their minds of some faint knowledge of what companions may be doing. When two men have both decided to fire at a bird, and the knowledge of what the other is to do is known to both, the bird will be more likely to escape than if but the one gun was fired--this because the minds of the gunners are divided between aiming and a consciousness of what the other gun is doing. One bird of a bevy is harder to kill than a bird rising singly for a similar reason. The match shooter who could feel an earthquake while aiming a shot would be the wrong man to place money upon.

A perfect control of the mind and nervous organization is essential to either field or trap shooting, and the latter must hear what is being said about him without comprehending it. Making irritating remarks in connection with a competitor’s shooting is an old trick of pigeon shots. The surest way to rattle a field shot is to induce him to discuss his misses while still shooting.

I remember one very clever quail shot that I took the job of rattling as a joke. His misses were usually shots that went low which caused him to fall into my scheme very innocently by agreeing that I should observe his work and call attention to every shot that went low. As soon as a bird arose I called, monotonously, “shoot high, shoot high.” Very shortly he was missing nearly every bird fired upon and was a very thoroughly worried man. He afterwards told me that no sooner had the bird started than he could think of nothing but me and my infernal “shoot high”.

Another individual was slow with his second barrel and I consented to coach him. He was a peppery chap, but usually pretty reliable with his first barrel. When the bird jumped, I said, sharply, “second barrel, second barrel” with the certain result of his rattling off both barrels without touching a feather. He flew into a rage finally.

A good shot with a trained mind, capable of a high degree of concentration, would never have heard what I said. I have known men in brush shooting to strike their muzzles against a limb and push the branch along sufficiently to get an aim and kill the bird without knowing the limb was there until afterwards. With his mind divided a marksman can no more shoot straight than he could throw baseballs with both hands at the same time.

Here are a few axioms to be remembered: When aiming see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing, think of nothing except the work in hand. While shooting solve the problem that is before you, and not the one that is past. Always kill the first bird shot at if you have enough loads in your gun, and never mind the others.

SELF-CONFIDENCE

In wing-shooting self-confidence is a great asset. When a bird springs, if there is any doubt in your mind as to your ability to kill, the result will probably be a miss. A feeling must be ever present of absolute power to kill, a feeling born of previous success. Any feeling of confidence not born of past results is simply self-deception. The vain glorious fellow who believes that he can do anything without trying has the sort of faith that wouldn’t deceive anyone except himself.

If a novice could suddenly become miraculously possessed of the knowledge of exactly where to hold, with the mechanical ability to handle his gun, he yet could not shoot from lack of confidence in his newly acquired powers. The only self-confidence built upon a solid foundation is that which comes from repeated, almost unvarying success. Confidence that comes from thoroughly tested ability is the stock in trade of the expert and so long as he possesses it, he will shoot well.

Overconfidence is a different matter,--a miss usually resulting from the marksman’s conscious or unconscious belief that it is not necessary for him to put forth his full powers. Shoot with all your might, at the easy birds and the hard ones alike, quitting when becoming tired rather than to shoot on carelessly.