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Authors: Ian Daniels
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too.
Chapter 7
For the next two days I did next to nothing besides rest and eat. After a while though, it was time to start living again. I brought up water, organized the house a little, went though the Saiga and support gear it would need, and otherwise stayed busy close to the house.
After two more days had passed, I reloaded my bags and gear and set off for a hike. It had been about two months since the last of the snow had melted off, and after a long five months of wet and cold seasonal weather, I relished an early summer sun’s warming effect, for as long as it was available.
I made my way to a nice spot not close to anything or anyone and set up my makeshift target range to wring out the new Saiga. The scope was dialed in, the iron sights worked as well as any AK type iron sights worked, and the magazines fed well. It was really just getting me used to the gun. My finger got used to the trigger and after a good amount of repetitions, I was getting a good natural feel for snapping the stock quickly to my shoulder. My time between shots and multiple targets was slower than I wanted it to be, but that would just come with time. It was going to be a lot of dry fire practice though as I did not have a ton of 308 ammo to burn through.
After the range session I hiked back and camped near a spot closer to my intended path. I had dropped off a bag with some heavier stuff at that spot earlier in the day, before I’d started shooting. My plans were to stop by the Harris’s again to see how Megan was adjusting with everyone, and then hunt my way back towards my own place again and maybe beyond.
Wild game was at a premium these days after everything had been so over hunted in the last few years and I was ready for some fresh meat to add to my dehydrated and canned food. The few vegetables I had tried to plant out in the open had not done well, so earlier in the spring I had fenced in a bit of a garden plot off of my ponds, hoping to let the water work in and keep what animals there were left, out. Those plants were doing okay, but they were not yet ready to harvest. Thankfully the gardens at the ranch were in much better shape than my own.
I spent the night next to a boulder the size of a van in the middle of a field of trees. Where it had come from was always a thing of legend to me. Every other rock that we grew out here was an ugly, dusty, crumbly type of basalt. This one was a big lone granite boulder in the middle of it all. I’m sure that geologically it had been dropped off in this spot thousands of years ago by the floods that shaped this half of the continent, but it was still a single pillar of mystery and neat landmark for me. I was up early with the sun the next morning, eager to pack my few things and make it to the Ranch for breakfast. I had less than two easy miles to go and even as I was covering the last expanse of forest, I was still in no hurry… until I heard the first gun shots that is.
I had been walking for about forty minutes or so and I was getting close when the first shot rang out. It gave me pause, but we’d had coyotes, raccoons, and the occasional skunk that had each tried to raid the chicken coops, so it wasn’t too uncommon. The next four in quick succession were uncommon though. I tore off my pack and stripped it down, stuffing the essentials, like the first aid kit and extra magazines in every available pocket. The hand held radio was the last thing to come out of my pack.
“Ranch, Scout One, Sitrep? Over,” I radioed out, using our regular call signs.
There was no response. I waited and tried again, still no answer. Either no one was listening, or they couldn’t hear me. I was sure I was in range of the stupid little FRS radio and didn’t want to waste the time to pull out the larger CB, so I got moving instead.
More shots.
I tried once more on the radio then shoved it in a pants pocket. I didn’t know what was happening or where, and if things were
Chapter 7
For the next two days I did next to nothing besides rest and eat. After a while though, it was time to start living again. I brought up water, organized the house a little, went though the Saiga and support gear it would need, and otherwise stayed busy close to the house.
After two more days had passed, I reloaded my bags and gear and set off for a hike. It had been about two months since the last of the snow had melted off, and after a long five months of wet and cold seasonal weather, I relished an early summer sun’s warming effect, for as long as it was available.
I made my way to a nice spot not close to anything or anyone and set up my makeshift target range to wring out the new Saiga. The scope was dialed in, the iron sights worked as well as any AK type iron sights worked, and the magazines fed well. It was really just getting me used to the gun. My finger got used to the trigger and after a good amount of repetitions, I was getting a good natural feel for snapping the stock quickly to my shoulder. My time between shots and multiple targets was slower than I wanted it to be, but that would just come with time. It was going to be a lot of dry fire practice though as I did not have a ton of 308 ammo to burn through.
After the range session I hiked back and camped near a spot closer to my intended path. I had dropped off a bag with some heavier stuff at that spot earlier in the day, before I’d started shooting. My plans were to stop by the Harris’s again to see how Megan was adjusting with everyone, and then hunt my way back towards my own place again and maybe beyond.
Wild game was at a premium these days after everything had been so over hunted in the last few years and I was ready for some fresh meat to add to my dehydrated and canned food. The few vegetables I had tried to plant out in the open had not done well, so earlier in the spring I had fenced in a bit of a garden plot off of my ponds, hoping to let the water work in and keep what animals there were left, out. Those plants were doing okay, but they were not yet ready to harvest. Thankfully the gardens at the ranch were in much better shape than my own.
I spent the night next to a boulder the size of a van in the middle of a field of trees. Where it had come from was always a thing of legend to me. Every other rock that we grew out here was an ugly, dusty, crumbly type of basalt. This one was a big lone granite boulder in the middle of it all. I’m sure that geologically it had been dropped off in this spot thousands of years ago by the floods that shaped this half of the continent, but it was still a single pillar of mystery and neat landmark for me. I was up early with the sun the next morning, eager to pack my few things and make it to the Ranch for breakfast. I had less than two easy miles to go and even as I was covering the last expanse of forest, I was still in no hurry… until I heard the first gun shots that is.
I had been walking for about forty minutes or so and I was getting close when the first shot rang out. It gave me pause, but we’d had coyotes, raccoons, and the occasional skunk that had each tried to raid the chicken coops, so it wasn’t too uncommon. The next four in quick succession were uncommon though. I tore off my pack and stripped it down, stuffing the essentials, like the first aid kit and extra magazines in every available pocket. The hand held radio was the last thing to come out of my pack.
“Ranch, Scout One, Sitrep? Over,” I radioed out, using our regular call signs.
There was no response. I waited and tried again, still no answer. Either no one was listening, or they couldn’t hear me. I was sure I was in range of the stupid little FRS radio and didn’t want to waste the time to pull out the larger CB, so I got moving instead.
More shots.
I tried once more on the radio then shoved it in a pants pocket. I didn’t know what was happening or where, and if things were
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