Black Hole of Luck Memoir - Fishing with a Rifle

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Fishing with a .22

When I was a young girl, I lived in Oklahoma on a large farm with my parents. We had several ponds on the farm which were favorite fishing spots for my mother and I. Almost every day during summer vacation, we would pack up our fishing gear and our .22 rifles and head out. The fishing gear was for the catfish: the rifles were for the water moccasins. If you’ve never seen a water moccasin up close, consider yourself lucky. They are a particularly mean and deadly variety of snake that are native to the mid-west. Unlike most snakes which won’t strike unless frightened or provoked, the water moccasin will bite you just because you’re there.

My mother and I would cast our lines into the pond and often a water moccasin would pop its head up next to the line bobber and start swimming toward shore. If we didn’t shoot them, they would slither up on land and try to bite us. I don’t believe in the senseless killing of animals, but besides self-defense, decreasing the water moccasin population also helped our livestock and dogs which used the ponds for drinking and bathing. Mom and I never caught very many fish, but we shot quite a few snakes.

When I turned 17, I joined the Air Force. Boot camp was a real challenge. After completing my first round of M-16 rifle qualifying, I was the only one in my flight of 60 women required to redo the shooting drill. Nervously, I shot my 100 rounds at the target using six different body positions: squatting, prone, standing, etc. After the drill instructor pulled in my target and counted the hits, he walked up to me and barked, “That’s twice you hit 99 out of 100. Where did a runt like you learn to shoot like that?”

Standing stiffly at attention and scared out of my wits, I answered, “Fishing, sir!”

I received a puzzled look and a marksmanship ribbon for my reply.
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