But you have all those fancy things in your truck . . . what are they called? . . . oh yeah, tools . . . hammers, screw drivers, bolt twisters, drill presses. I don't have any of that stuff.
Actually, I do like to shoot . . . REAL GUNS. I've target shot with rifles, shotguns, revolvers and air guns, though none of them my own. Air guns are just sort of sissy. They don't go KABLAM much less KABLOOEY! But ammo and ranges around here are too expensive, and not close. I can't afford to blow $100 for an hour of shooting and 90 minutes of driving.
There's also a very practical reason I don't shoot my shotgun on my property.
In Connecticut you need I least 10 acres of property, which I have, in order to shoot on it. I'm not sure there's an exception for air guns. Even when you have the property, the local gunsmith tells me the SWAT teams will probably show up when the neighbors complain.
When I was brush hogging, mowing, tree clearing, bridge building and maintaining, back-hoeing, chainsawing, and otherwise landscaping my 11 acres, I had people tell me it was nicer looking than any park in our town. Now, my gazebo has been crushed by falling willows, there are trees down everywhere, my bridges are in disrepair, and the whole thing has reverted to jungle.
I limbed the bottom six feet of one of my dawn redwoods and a bald cypress a couple of weeks ago, using my two new Silky saws (and testing them against my bow saws, Fiskars, and Bahco Laplander), and I couldn't work for more than three minutes without getting exhausted. Old age. The 50's were a 10 percent down slope, the 60's about 18 percent, the 70's have been a quick 40 percent.
In short, to clear out properly and get to the part of my property that has a good hill backstop for target shooting, I'd have to do at least 100 hours of work that I'm no longer inclined to do or able to do without risk. I suppose I could just wade through the thorns, and tall grass, and millions of ticks in this ground zero of Lyme disease, and the muck, and get depressed at my lost Eden, and start blowing away red squirrels -- but frankly. Scarlett, I just don't give a dang anymore.