”Sugar Plum, I’m bored. Spring is here, and there’s no fishing or hunting. I need something fun to do.”
“Well, Tracker, check out what I found at the yard sale this morning. It’s ‘The Complete Book of Trick and Fancy Shooting’ about your hero Ad Topperwein. Topperwein used to do exhibition trick shooting for the Winchester rifle and ammunition company during the early twentieth century. He is a legend. In 1906 at the San Antonio Fair Grounds he shot 72,491 2-inch wooden cubes, which had been thrown in the air, out of 72,500. He averaged more than 1,000 shots an hour over a ten day period. I can’t imagine how his arm must have felt!
“This book also explains the art of trick shooting. There’s even a section on rifle art. He would free hand shoot into a piece of galvanized tin creating images with bullet holes. This is very cool!”
“Let me see, Sugar Plum. Why, heck, I can do that! All I need is a .22 rifle, a 20” X 30” sheet of tin and lots of ammunition.
“I’ll make us some new artwork for our new log cabin I’m building. Wouldn’t you like that, Sugar Plum? It won’t hardly cost a dime. I might even become famous like Picasso or Bev Doolittle!
“It says you are supposed to practice shapes and lines. Heck! I’m such a good shot; I don’t even need to practice. I’m just going to go for it!”
Thumper and I made a list and headed to the hardware store. I got lots of sheets of tin to make artwork for the house and some 1 X 2 boards to frame them. I pulled out my Winchester Model 62 pump gallery rifle and several cases of ammo, headed for the rifle range, and got ready to create.
“Thumper, stand back, girl. Artist at work.”
I worked at that pump rifle like it was a fully automatic machine gun. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. Bang, bang, bang, bang. Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. Casings were being thrown everywhere.
I worked at this for about four hours, until I could barely lift my arm. Shell casings and boxes were piled knee deep. Thumper, who had given up watching and was napping under a tree, was almost buried in the debris. I had gone through thousands of rounds of ammo and still had nothing to show for my efforts. I really wanted Sugar Plum to be proud of me. This free hand stuff is a lot harder than I thought. I am a good enough shot that I can drive nails, but I guess I am not much of an artist. Hmmmmm. Let’s see. I have spent hundreds of dollars on ammo and tin. I have one sheet left. I am going to have to produce something to make this all worthwhile.
I pulled out the book and looked at the artwork Ad Topperwein had created. I got an idea. I’ll just copy one of his designs.
“Thumper, let’s go! We’re going back to town.”
I took the book to the copy shop and had a 20” X 30” blow up made of the Indian drawing so I could shoot his pattern onto the tin.
“OK, Thumper. Check this out. I have my last sheet of tin with the picture taped to it and my last box of shells.”
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. Bang, bang, bang, bang. Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Pow, pow, pow, pow, pow.
I waited for the smoke to clear. WAAAAAAAHOOOOO!!! Holy Hannah!! Look at that, a real Indian. Won’t Sugar Plum be impressed!
I framed it up and took it to Sugar Plum. “Why, Tracker, this is wonderful! I knew you were a good shot, but I never knew you were an artist. You could make one for every room in the house. How about a still life of a vase with big sunflowers or a bear cub? Can you make me a rooster for the kitchen?”
“Come on, Thumper. We’re off to town again for more tin and ammunition to make some pictures for Sugar Plum.”
As we got to the truck I whispered to Thumper, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know we have to go by the copy shop and get some more pictures enlarged before we get the tin and ammo. This is our secret! No one is to know how I do it.”
When we got back with our supplies, Sugar Plum was waiting at the rifle range. “I want to watch,” she said.
I cringed because I didn’t want her to know my secret. Being quick witted, I hastily replied, “You know how artists are. They don’t want anyone viewing their master piece until it is finished. You are going to have to let it be a surprise.”
Thumper almost gave me away. She whined and wrapped her paws over her face, as if she couldn’t believe how I was pulling the wool over Sugar Plum’s eyes and laying it on so thick!
Disappointed, Sugar Plum walked back to the house. Ten minutes later I walked in with a masterpiece.
“My, Tracker, this is even better than the first one. How did you do this so quickly? The first one took you much longer.”
“Well, Sugar Plum, you see, practice makes perfect. The Indian was hard. I probably shouldn’t have picked it as my first picture. I made lots of mistakes before I got the hang of it. (Before I knew to make copies.)
“OK, what would you like next? The rooster?”
“That would be great!”
“Back in a flash. . .of gun powder.”
Ten minutes later I presented her with this magnificent rooster.
“Tracker, you should call Winchester. Maybe they will give you a job doing exhibition trick shooting, just like Topperwein, your hero.”
I had anticipated this topic being brought up and thought about my response while working on the last image, so I was able to respond quickly and, I hope, convincingly.
“Sugar Plum, you know I am much too modest to be in the spotlight. Besides, I could never take a job on the road because I couldn’t stand being away from you or Thumper!”
“Oh, Tracker, you are a sentimental old fool, and I just love you,” said Sugar Plum as she gave me a big hug.
Thumper couldn’t believe what she was witnessing and once again had pulled her paws over her eyes. I know she’ll never tell, but what about the lady at the copy shop!!!