Tuesday evenings take me to a place of fellowship and a place where knowledge is passed on. A sort of church where parishioners, donning their finest camouflage hats, bow their heads to look down their scope and fold their hands around a pistol stock; and mass is called to session when gun barrels ring.

This place lies in the basement of the Northland Sportsman's Club and draws target-shooting enthusiasts from across the area to take part in an hour or two of the sport and company of others they enjoy.

On these evenings, shooters of every age take part in a light-hearted competition of punching holes through a sheet of paper with hot lead. The game is about as simple as bowling - shooters try to get a high score by placing shots as precisely as possible on the target. The lane is a 50-foot span of tile floor with a bullet stop at the end (much like the ones that catch speeding bowling balls), and the pins are black, compact disc-sized circles on rectangular sheets of paper. Unlike bowling, however, there are no pitchers of beer being swilled down; no cigarette smoke clinging to clothes; or loathsome rental shoes.

In the seconds before the buzzer signals shooters to begin firing, the room fills with silent concentration as pistols are raised and sights steady on the doomed target downrange. The quiet is suddenly broken by an outburst of sharp cracks of fire from handgun muzzles as the targets are riddled by holes caused by unseen projectiles.

A warm smell of spent gunpowder hangs in the air as the string ends and guns are made safe. Only then does the group open up in conversation, discussing well-placed shots, things done right or wrong in their shooting method, and some great excuses for missed shots.

“I think they sold me blanks,” one man says, studying his target and its lack of perforations.

“I must've only loaded nine rounds,” says another, denying the idea of his 10th round just missed the paper.

“I was shooting at your target,” another man jokingly proclaims, pointing to his neighbor's expertly shot target.

When shots are well-placed, the shooters don't gloat - they just smile and nod, and think of ways to change their stance, grip on the pistol, or anything else to improve their score by another point or two in the following round.

Those who need help adjusting a sight; or advice on how to stand correctly; or a few extra bullets to finish the last round find assistance from others in the group.

A special kind of friendship is formed here. Someone entering a basement full of 10 armed strangers may seem reckless to the weary, but one soon realizes that these men are fathers, grandfathers and uncles who welcome fellow shooters into their family and strive to help produce a better marksman; not to mention probably the most responsible and disciplined gun owners in the world.

- Chris Engle is editorial assistant at the Gaylord Herald Times. You may write him at PO Box 598, Gaylord, MI 49734, or e-mail him at cengle@ gaylordheraldtimes.com

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