Thought I had told this story awhile ago but it seems that it was one of the things I overlooked. But.
My first firearm was a Savage-Stevens model 73Y and it was a fine shooting little rifle. My dad gave it to me the Christmas after I turned 11 if I recall correctly. Well technically my first firearm was a Daisy Red Rider BB gun but as it was powered by a piston and spring to fire the little zinc balls of fun and mayhem it isn't relevant to this discussion. Anyway, after receiving said .22 I looked upon it as my duty to do everything in my power to see to it the population of squirrel, rabbit, and empty soda cans was drastically reduced in my immediate area (anything up to and including 2 sq miles). Furthermore every opportunity I could get I would drag mom or some other adult out into the woods for me to ply my trade (read: mayhem and destruction) against the invading squirrel armies. The majority of my time with that rifle though was spent on turning boxes upon boxes of little .22 shorts into smoke and noise (or at least a barely audible sharp pop and a puff of burnt powder) and reducing previously mentioned empty soda cans into so much shredded aluminium (IE. thousands of rounds and nearly as many cans). One thing I have missed over the years since, is that rifle and my ability to shoot as well as I did nearly 20 years ago. As with much in my life I seem to have issues with my genes and since about Jr High I haven't had the eyesight I used to. What with everything fuzzy at a distance much over 50 yds while I'm trying to use iron sights. I figure my days of firing off a plated .22 short with the sun at my back and watching it zing a hundred yards downrange and hit a soda can are behind me. At least without the now common scopes that are currently attached to all of my rifles. Hopefully I'll be able to recall some more details of the many adventures that little rifle and I went on to regale y'all with at a later date.