RADD- Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder

6mm Remington

Ammo Smith
Feb 27, 2006
5,077
33
Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder
As I mentioned previously, we finally have a name for the disease that I feel many of us are afflicted with. It is called Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder or RADD for short. It is a very powerful disease with no known cure. So far the only temporary relief has been found through therapeutic shopping. This is where more firearms are purchased in the hopes of quieting the anguish and grief brought on by reading our hunting and shooting magazines, or the frequent trips to the sporting goods store. So far though nothing has appeared to work and once a person is inflicted it appears to be a life-long illness.
As it seems that I went first in admitting that I have this illness and we now have a name for it, maybe by telling my story others will be helped and we will also understand that we do not have to suffer alone. Hopefully they too will share their story and together we might find some solace in knowing there are many others in this group.
Hello everyone my name is David and I am a Rifle Addict and this is my story. As you read my story, you will come to the realization that this disease is even more than just an addiction to firearms but also encompasses fishing, trapping, hiking, boating, snowshoeing, and in essence everything and anything to do with the great outdoors. I feel that the name RADD appropriately fits pretty well and besides that I like the name. I’ll try to tell this in a chronological fashion as I think it might make it easier for the layman to understand how this disease progresses and how severely it effects each of us.
My addiction started as young as the age of three or four when my parents, my grandparents, and aunts and uncles would take me fishing with a fly pole in small creeks and streams near where we lived. It was obvious that I was enjoying it by the look on my face when I would land a whopping 6 inch long brook trout. This then progressed to the age of 5 when my father could no longer come up with reasons that I could not join him and his friend when they went out frequently to check their trap lines. They trapped fox, badger, coyote, and bobcat. This is where the rifle addiction first started. We had .22 rifles with us on these trips to shoot rabbits with, and rabbits were what we used for bait. The .22’s were also used to dispatch the animals that they were fortunate enough to catch. I shot a lot of rabbits with that .22, and was making some shots that my father and his friend envied! We used the cottontails for the baits and turned in the jackrabbits at the mercantile as they gave us 25 cents for each jackrabbit so they could use their hides in gloves and such. The money made from the jackrabbits was then in turn used to buy a hamburger and play a couple games of pool at a small town bar in Reed Point Montana at the end of our tough day on the trap-line. That in turn lead to another addiction called billiards, but that is another story.
At about the age of 8 I was given my first BB gun which was a lever action Daisy that held the BB’s in a large tube surrounding the barrel. I do not recall the exact amount of BB’s it would hold, but it was as I recall quite substantial. It had to number between 200-300 BB’s. Now the Daisy rifle was spring loaded, and the energy to shoot the BB resulted from cocking the rifle. It non-the-less had ample power to kill grasshoppers, starlings, magpies, dirt clods, and other big-game I could conjure up such as a tree stump. I remember finding out just how powerful the Daisy was when another friend of mine who was the same age and I decided to have a BB gun fight in the woods near the river where we lived. This particular river was the Stillwater River near Columbus Montana.
Being above average intelligence, or so we thought, we decided that there should be some rules of combat laid out so we wouldn’t hurt each other, and maybe even lose an eye! We agreed that we would try not to shoot the opponent any higher than the middle of his stomach area so that we hopefully would not take one in the eye or the face. Our FIRST and ONLY battle started with a bang or a pffff quite literally. I saw right away that I had quite an advantage over my opponent/enemy. I could literally shoot my BB gun all day where as he had to reload his after about 30 shots. Once I figured this out, I really pressed the attack. My friend was running through the woods trying to reload his BB gun all the while wishing that he had a white flag to wave as a sign of defeat, but alas, he had none. I continued pressing the attack and he eventually got loaded back up, and got back into the fight again. I also discovered that when he was running away from me, a well placed BB right in the soft spot behind his knee would put him down momentarily on the spot. Oh sure he would get up almost right away and continue to run in an attempt to get away to a position of cover from which to fire back, but it sure slowed him down a little bit.
I was winning this battle we were having by a large margin because of my much greater volume of firepower. We both were taking some casualties though and were quickly finding out that a BB shot at what I would guess was roughly 150-200 fps or so really hurt when it hit you in the leg, the butt, or somewhere else. I remember the battle quickly coming to an end when my “friend” accidently shot me in the mouth after I had taken cover behind a tree and had lain on the ground to make as small a target as possible. I peaked around the tree to try and engage him again, and he hit me in one of my upper front teeth. The BB did not touch any part of my lip which might have slowed the impact somewhat. It did not knock the tooth out and it did not break the tooth, but the pain I felt I would be the equivalent of having the dentist drill out a cavity in your mouth without deadening the gums first. It hurt! We never EVER engaged in another battle of this type again. WE decided that it was not that much fun after all.
It was about the age of 9 when I got my first bow and arrows. Oh let the adventures begin! I had one of those cheap fiberglass long bows you can still purchase for the beginning archer today in various stores. They aren’t very powerful and I would guess that the bow I had took about 15-20 pounds to pull it back, but not more than that. It would shoot an arrow quite a ways though. I remember stalking deer and other animals back in the river bottom behind our house just practicing for the day when I would finally be old enough and would either have a rifle or a bow to actually hunt with. One day I was with another friend of mine who also had a bow similar to mine. We were shooting stumps, attempting to shoot ground squirrels, and any other kind of vermin we might come across. All was fine and dandy until my Norwegian Elkhound found a skunk and started barking at it and trying to get at the skunk. The skunk of course was not going to take this lying down so he began fighting back by the only means that a skunk has. The air was soon filled with the aroma that only a skunk can make and boy was it powerful! My dog was barking at the skunk and circling it all the while getting sprayed with that wonderful fragrance. My friend and I decided that we needed to save my dog as “we did not want my dog to get hurt”. We each shot the skunk with our arrows that only had practice tips on them as that was all we were allowed to have at the time, which probably was a good thing. I have to mention at this point that we each had only ONE arrow apiece! We were not very well equipped for killing anything but we had to try for my dogs sake, and try we did.
I remember shooting the skunk, and then my friend shot him as well. We then had to approach this still very alive skunk and recover our arrows so we could shoot him again. As you can probably imagine, we both ended up covered in skunk perfume. After just a couple of arrows each we were able to kill the skunk so he would not be getting into anyone’s chicken coop again and by golly our dog was now safe too. It’s really kind of amazing when I look back at this, but did you know that you can smell so bad that at some point you cannot actually smell yourself any longer? I didn’t think that was possible but it really is! We were pretty proud of ourselves so we carried the skunk home to show my mom what a great job we had done getting rid of one of those pesty buggers. I somehow don’t think she needed the visual of the trophy to verify what had taken place as she could smell us coming from several blocks away. Mom surprisingly was not very happy.
This was not quite the end of adventures with my little fiberglass bow. One day I was back on the river and was messing around like any kid does pretending I was hunting. I used to love to sneak as close as I could to the whitetail deer just to see how close I could get. Of course I would never shoot at one with my little bow as I would have gotten my bottom side warmed up a whole bunch! I wish I would have used more sense when it came to the neighbors cattle though. My grandparents had registered Herefords while those folks next door raised them awful Charolais. I spotted a group of about 20 head just on the other side of our fence and I used the wind and cover to sneak to within about 30 yards when they caught sight of me and took off running. The neighbor’s cattle were pretty spooky just like most range cattle are, but our Herefords were more like overgrown pets.
To this day I have no idea what I was thinking or why I did this, but I raised my bow and took a shot at the lead cow as she was trotting broadside to me. Imagine my surprise, shock, sick stomach, fear, and anything else you can think of when my arrow hit that cow right behind the shoulder midway from the top of her back to bottom of her chest. I cringed in horror and started running for home but made it only a few steps when for some unknown reason I had to stop and turn around and see what happened. Fortunately the combination of the distance, my very weak bow, and the very tough hide on the cow kept the arrow from penetrating. There was only enough energy for the arrow to barely break the skin and hang there for a couple more steps after it hit her before it dropped to the ground. The cow would live to see another day and was fine, but I don’t think I would have had that arrow killed that animal and my parents had to buy a beef from the neighbor. I guess one good thing that would have come from this if anything could, was the fact that my grandfather had a butcher shop in town, and his slaughter house was only 100 yards away from where this incident all took place. I sighed a very heavy sigh that day and never told a soul about it until now. Even as I write this, I have a knot in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it. That was the end of the hunting adventures for a while!
I was still about 9-10 years old when I was back with a friend fishing one of the small creeks that ran through our place. We were using lures and were not having much luck on this day. Boredom began to set in and of course we started messing around because we were not catching any fish. I remember having on a three barbed lure at the time, and I believe it was a red and white Daredevil (how appropriate). I let out about 6 feet or so of line and began swinging my pole to the front and slapping the water with the lure and then pulling it up just as hard and as fast and slapping the water behind me. Oh what great fun. I remember doing this for several strokes and so was my friend. That is until the lure slapped the water on my back side on one of my strokes, and when I pulled very hard on the pole to pull the lure over my head and slap the water in front of me, the line looped under itself on the up stroke, and that was enough for the lure to hit me in the middle of my back. It buried two of the three prongs on the lure as deep as they would go! My friend pulled the lure out, which was quite difficult with the barbs on it, and we never said a word about it, certainly not to our mothers.
As I mention to earlier, at about 5 my dad was unable to keep me at home when he went to check his traps. Since I was now ten years old, he figured I was old enough that I could trap muskrats and raccoons in the woods behind our house. That seemed relatively safe enough and my dad figured that I was probably not going to put too much pressure on the rats or the raccoons, or that this adventure would be relatively free of any kind of drama that I might get into. He was correct in that I did not hurt the Muskrat population or the racoon population very much, but somehow the drama just seemed to keep following me. I'm not sure to this day why it is like that. One day as I was checking one of my Muskrat sets though I was in for a surprise. I caught something that I certainly had not targeted, and that target was a very large and a very angry Mallard drake! At about the age of 8, ducks are really a fair sized creature with a lot of spunk as I was to soon find out. As all of us who enjoy hunting and fishing and eating the animals we harvest, are yet still the most caring people when it comes to animals. That is why I would bet that most of us have pets who are a part of our families, and why we as sportsmen took it upon ourselves to tax our equipment, and donate thousands of dollars and man hours each year to support our wildlife, and to make sure there is always a place for them so that our children will have the same experiences we have had.
I was upset that I had caught this duck in my trap and I could see that his leg was broken. I did not intend to hurt him and all I could think about was taking him home and fixing him up. Now came the tricky part. How the heck was I going to get this very agitated duck out of the trap without him getting his pound of flesh out of me? I don’t remember all the details very clearly as it happened so long ago now, but I remember it was quite a battle that took several minutes before I was able to pin him in the water somehow and use my other hand or foot to release the trap. I do recall there was about 6 inches of snow on the ground and it was in the 0-10 degree range, so it was cold. I got wet and can tell you it was very cold. The Mallard also got his pound of flesh out of me too. Who would have ever thought that they could bite the way they do, and it also hurts like @#$% when they peck you with their bill!! Trust me on that one.
It seemed strange to me, but once I had him wrapped up in my coat with just his head sticking out and I was carrying him home, he seemed to relax and I truly believe he understood that I really didn’t want to hurt him. That’s my story, but he probably was just exhausted from the battle that had taken place. So I get home and come in the house with this 4 pound Mallard drake in my arms. I told my dad what had happened and how I had rescued him. To my horror, my father wanted to cook him up for dinner. There was no way that was going to happen! I was pretty upset that he even suggested it. My plan was to fix him up.
We did not have a very large house and we lived out in the country next to my grandparents. A creek ran behind the house about 70 feet from the house, and it was a fresh water spring and the creek would never freeze completely solid in one small are near the house. My grandparents had some domestic ducks that they fed, and of course that meant that there was a large contingent of wild ducks that would also make this home, and would spend the whole winter here. I cannot imagine a better spot for my duck to be. So next thing you know we are in our living room and we have this duck on the floor and are holding him down. My mother got a wooden clothes pin and we pulled it out of the metal part so we had two equal lengths of wood. We used those as a splint and straightened the ducks leg and set it as best as we could. We used some medical tape to secure the wood splint with because we knew it would resist the water for what we hoped would be long enough so that the ducks leg would set before the splint eventually fell off. WE had gotten him fixed up and were just about to take him out back of the house and put him in the creek with the rest of the ducks when he somehow got loose. I have to tell you that it’s pretty exciting when you have a full grown mature Mallard drake flying in your house. There were duck feathers and poop everywhere. I believe that a duck tends to poop quite a bit anyway, but when they get overly excited, it really kicks in. After we chased him through the house for a few minutes, we were able to finally put the grab on him and get him outside to the creek. He seemed to settle right in with the other ducks and started eating on the corn we had put out for them. At this point we all were pretty tired, and it had been quite day.
The duck stayed all winter with the mixture of wild and domestic ducks we had there in the creek. His leg healed pretty quickly and the tape eventually fell off and the splints dropped away. His foot was not quite like it should have been, but we truly had tried our best. You could pick my duck out of the rest of the ducks very easily. When you looked at their feet under the water, you could see right away that his one foot pointed in a little bit instead of pointing straight with his body. It would be like a car having too much toe-in on one of the front tires. He could walk fine on the land, but when he swam in the water it was pretty funny to watch. He would paddle with both feet but because he was out of alignment so to speak, he would start to go in a circle. He actually learned how to compensate for this and would stop kicking with the bad leg for a few strokes and would use only the good leg, and that would straighten him out again. He could swim but it was just that he couldn’t do it very fast any longer.
That spring, my duck stayed all summer and into the next fall and winter. He never left to migrate to the north and stayed in the creek near our house all that next summer. There really was no reason for him to leave as we fed the domestic ducks, and the wild ducks helped themselves to the feast. Finally that next spring he left and did go north. It was truly amazing when he returned that next fall and spent all winter near our house in the creek again. You could spot him immediately with his one bum leg. He left again that next spring and we never saw him again. He never made it back the next fall and we don’t know what happened to him.
We advance a couple years now and it’s time for me to get to hunt my first big-game animal ever. We were going to Roy Montana to hunt deer and antelope on my grandfather LeRoy’s place. What was special about it too was the fact that my grandfather put me through his hunter’s safety course as he was an instructor, and he had done this for hundreds of other kids over the years. I would be using my 6mm Remington chambered in my Remington Model 600 Centennial that my father had given to me. The very first day we were out, we were driving a two track on my grandfather’s place when we came over a little rise and there were about 20 head of antelope maybe 70 yards in front of us. By the time we got out of the truck they had already ran out of sight around a hillside.
My dad and I were about 100 yards from the pickup watching where the antelope had ran and my father’s friend who was hunting with us was about 70 yards to our right. We had stood there for just a couple of minutes when this very same group of antelope come running back around the hill the exact same way they had just left. Why they did that I will never know. Before we could gather our senses most of the 20 head had gone past us and were running towards my dad’s friend and continued on past him. At the tail end of the group were three head. There was a buck and doe in the lead that were running close together and about 50 feet behind them came the last buck. My father and I pulled up to shoot at the bucks as they were running past at 60 mph. They were only about 70 yards from us and I guess we both figured we could make the shot. What the heck did I know, I had never shot anything let alone an animal streaking along like a bolt of lightning.
Someone was helping guide our shots in that moment, and the whole event on this particular morning. When my dad and I fired, it sounded like only one shot had gone off. Three antelope went down in a heap. I remember jumping up and down saying I got him I got him over and over. We realized after it was over that I had gotten two antelope with one shot. My 100 gr. Corelokt had hit the buck in the ribs right behind the shoulder and had went through him and had hit the doe just as she caught up to him and was on the far side of my buck. After going completely through him, the little 6mm bullet hit her towards the middle to the back of her ribs just a bit too far back, and had stopped just under the hide on her off side. Both my buck and the doe required a finishing shot even though the buck was finished, he just didn’t know it yet. My father’s friend had not even had the opportunity to fire a shot and there his antelope lay on the ground. A lot of years you can draw multiple tags, but this year we each only had one either sex tag. He was gracious enough to tag one of the antelope I had taken with this one in a million shot. It was the right thing to do and I believe that the game warden would have agreed with that assessment. To say I was on cloud nine would be an understatement and the 6mm Remington had just become the king of all cartridges before and since! Unknown to me, but the RADD disease had already begun to fester in me like a bad case of Giardia.
My dad bought a reloader the next year and we started making our own rifle ammunition. My dad started loading 160 gr. Partitions in his 7mm Remington Magnum, and he bought me some 100 gr. Hornady’s for my 6mm. For whatever reason, my rifle DID NOT like the Hornady bullet and my groups were more like a close range shotgun pattern than a rifle group. My dad then bought a box of NOSLER 100gr. Solid-base boat-tails and they shot great. He also taught me how to load my own ammunition which only made my disease to worsen considerably. To me it adds so much more to the hunt to take game with ammo that you have very carefully crafted for your rifle and specifically for the animal you are hunting. The great Noslers worked wonderfully on everything I shot and except for buying two boxes from another manufacturer, all I have purchased in 38 years has been Nosler bullets of one kind or another. You can tell this is only making my affliction much worse. The Noslers shoot in everything you fire them in, and work on anything you shoot them at. Darn you Nosler!!
When I was about 17 I decided that I needed a larger caliber for elk and maybe black bears, and there really wasn’t any choice to be made other than to get a 30-06. I had also fallen for Remington and their Model 700. I saved my money and bought my first rifle which was a Model 700 ADL. I put a 6x Leupold on it with the duplex crosshairs. It was a great rifle that I eventually sold because I had became so enamored with Ruger’s new single-shot, and especially the #1B. I took quite a lot of game with my first 30-06 with one of those being a really nice 15” antelope that I shot just a bit over 500 yards away standing and feeding. You probably don’t have to guess which caliber I chose for the Ruger single-shot to replace the Remington. It was none other than the 30-06. I absolutely love that Ruger and yet I still wish I had that 700 ADL as it shot great and it was the first rifle I purchased on my own. If I could have that rifle or find it again, I would buy it back in a heart-beat. As you can see, I am a very sick man like many of us, and it is only worsening!
Now back to Remington. Darn those people, but they came out with a 700 MTN rifle in get this, the.280 Remington. Not only was it, and still is one of the most attractive rifles to ever have Remington stamped on the side, but to chamber it in the .280, well that was just brilliance personified!! I had to have one and eventually I did. It was a wonderful rifle that I used to take my largest elk ever, a really really nice 6 point bull with a 43” inside spread and 53” long main beams. He was gorgeous. About this time though I was starting to feel the pull of the Mauser, the Winchester, and the Ruger MKII all with the Mauser style action, controlled round feed, and the rest of it. In addition to being all Mauser, the Ruger has that wonderful integral scope base that is pretty hard to beat for just being tough, tough, tough. Ruger does build a heck of a rifle, so I started to plan on getting one to replace my old .280 Remington, and then Winchester pulls a fast one and starts making Model 70’s again, in the United States no less, and better built than they ever have been. The metals are better and the quality control is so vastly improved. The trigger’s were improved and I’ve heard that they are good, but I never ever read a single article critiquing the old Model 70 trigger. I’m still saving for that .280 that I just need to have, but I have not quite decided between the Model 70 and the Model 77.
I also have noticed recently that even though I have an absolutely fabulous Ruger #1B in 6mm Remington, I’ve been obsessing a lot over getting another 6mm, only this one in a bolt action! I’m thinking of either buying a used Winchester or Ruger for the ground work and then having one of my two favorite gunsmiths chamber a new Shilen or Lilja 24”barrel for 6mm. I would either go with a wood laminate that will be both glass bedded and pillar bedded , or a top of the line synthetic with the aluminum bedding block. It would wear a Leupold no doubt and I am a fixed power guy. To change things up bit on this one though I would have the custom shop use the duplex crosshairs with the dots on the bottom portion that would be calibrated for the BC of the bullet I will be using and the velocity it shoots out of my rifle. I would like it thus calibrated with these hold-over’s for out to 500 yards. I keep telling you foilks about this Montana Rifle Company located in Kalispell Montana and OH MY you have to go to their web-site and take a peak! I am drooling as I speak!
Even as I am writing this, I am beginning to see the ramblings of a very addicted person. Each paragraph appears to be much worse than the one prior to it. I am afraid the sickness has taken hold and it will be with me for the rest of my life. At this point in time there is no cure. I am going to add one last item to this dissertation and then I will close. In one of our Forum sections, one of the discussions was a question as to how many of us take a back-up rifle on a hunt. I like many others have taken two rifles on a trip as a back-up in case something goes wrong with one, we have a second rifle to then fall back on. That all sounds well and good, but I got to thinking about it as it sounds like a logical and reasonable thing to do, and something that could very well salvage a disaster of some type if it should happen on a hunt and we were left with nothing to hunt with. I thought back to when I would start taking more than one rifle or firearm with me, and it was very evident that even though this is the common sense portrayal I was attempting to show as an example by doing so, in reality it is something completely different. It started with taking one rifle over to hunt deer and antelope on the same trip. It progressed from there.
I then decided to take two rifles for big-game so I could use both to hunt something with. I might use one for deer and then use the other rifle for antelope. As an example of this I took my 6mm for deer and antelope, and then took my old octagon barreled Winchester lever-action in 38-40 so I could use it to shoot a mule deer doe with. Later I decided I also needed to take a .22 so I could hunt rabbits at night and a shotgun so I could hunt pheasants and sage grouse when we weren’t pursuing big-game. I am now up to four firearms, but yet there is more. I also figured I could take my Recurve bow and maybe shoot a doe with it or even hunt elk. You used to be able to archery hunt elk in the Missouri Breaks on a general tag prior to FWP setting stricter regulations because of the increased pressure. I did do just exactly that too on more than one occasion! I got to thinking about this malady and if I am being honest here, and I am being honest here, it has nothing to do with having a back-up rifle in case one goes south on me! It’s all about this sickness that I have and nothing more. This horrible disease is called RADD! May God bless all of you so inflicted with it just as I am!

David AKA- 6mm Remington
 

JD338

Range Officer
Staff member
Nov 4, 2004
21,723
987
Hello everyone my name is JD338 and I am a RADD Addict. I am also addicted to reloading and Nosler bullets. :grin:

JD338
 

6mm Remington

Ammo Smith
Feb 27, 2006
5,077
33
I do apologize for the sloppy way this post came across. I wrote it out on a word document and then copied and pasted it to the Nosler site. Somehow in the mix, the paragrahs and format got all messed up. I should have checked it and fixed that before I hit the submit button.
 

DrMike

Ballistician
Nov 8, 2006
35,013
1,399
David,

Delightful post. I can identify with elements of this post. Unfortunately, I'm still in denial. :oops:
 

6mm Remington

Ammo Smith
Feb 27, 2006
5,077
33
Delightful post. I can identify with elements of this post. Unfortunately, I'm still in denial. DrMike


Thanks Dr. Mike. Maybe it brought a smile to one two of us! I was just thinking that it really would not be a horrible idea if the Nosler guys put in a new Index in the Forum just for humor somehow involving hunting and the great outdoors. Of course we would want to make sure that the humor was clean and not offensive, but I bet each of us has some funny stories and exciting stories to share that I'm not quite sure would fit into any of the other index files. It might be kind of fun. Goodness knows that in this world and with the horrible stuff we see and hear about daily, a good laugh once in a while can go a long ways. In this post of the RADD and the way I describe it coming into my life from the beginning, it's quite obvious that I am the first person who would step up and poke fun at myself, and my buddies if given half a chance. What do the rest of you guys think? :?: :mrgreen:
 

DrMike

Ballistician
Nov 8, 2006
35,013
1,399
I love a hearty laugh. Unfortunately, humour has a way of degenerating pretty quickly. There is nothing wrong, however, with a humorous post such as you have put up here. It brings a smile to my face. As I said, I can certainly see elements of my own childhood in what you wrote.
 

FOTIS

Range Officer
Staff member
Oct 30, 2004
23,129
280
"Just because I buy and sell every 2 days does not make me a RADD victim!"

said the Greek in denial! :mrgreen:
 

bteate

Beginner
Sep 17, 2009
120
0
First of all, great read! Second, I'm not in denial, I know my problem is real and feel no need to suppress it ( other than lack of $$$$ to further support it) as my safe will hold a few more. Really good post, 6mm Remington.
 

6mm Remington

Ammo Smith
Feb 27, 2006
5,077
33
First of all, great read! Second, I'm not in denial, I know my problem is real and feel no need to suppress it ( other than lack of $$$$ to further support it) as my safe will hold a few more. Really good post, 6mm Remington.bteate


bteate Thanks for the comment. I appreciate that. You say you are not in denial, yet I sense a certain tone of defensiveness in your reply kind sir! :mrgreen:

Dr. Mike- Thanks to you as well. You are sadly correct in that something meant to be so good can turn pretty ugly very fast if the things that are said and they are taken are a little bit much. I honestly don't go to many Forums other than Nosler if ever at all. It's a completely wonderful site and we would not in any way shape or fashion degrade it! I am sorry though Doc because once in a while I just have to put something out there. It's just my nature and I'm kind of known as a practical joker at work just a little bit! Nothing mean spirited and all quite humorous. Actually Mike maybe my post is a good sign because since my youngest son died 4 years ago on October 26, I haven't really been myself, and this is more like the old me so by golly that's a good thing. Thanks again.


I love a hearty laugh. Unfortunately, humour has a way of degenerating pretty quickly. There is nothing wrong, however, with a humorous post such as you have put up here. It brings a smile to my face. As I said, I can certainly see elements of my own childhood in what you wrote.DrMike
 

SJB358

Ballistician
Dec 24, 2006
31,304
563
Well, I have it as bad as anyone. I can't hardly think of a centerfire rifle I couldn't find a use for. Since finding Shooters Pro Shop and you all, it has still continued in a firery downhill slide!
 

6mm Remington

Ammo Smith
Feb 27, 2006
5,077
33
If anyone is interested, I made some corrections and cleaned it up a bit so it reads a little better, and I also added one more little part that many of you will identify with. I can add the updated version if it would not bore you to death. Sorry about my typing, my keyboard is about shot I fear. Oh what the heck I'll throw it out there anyway.

Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder

As I mentioned previously, we finally have a name for the disease that I feel many of us are afflicted with. It is called Rifle Addiction Deficit Disorder or RADD for short. It is a very powerful disease with no known cure. So far the only temporary relief has been found through therapeutic shopping. This is where more firearms are purchased in the hopes of quieting the anguish and grief brought on by reading our Eastman’s Journal, other hunting and shooting magazines, or the frequent trips to the sporting goods store. So far though nothing has appeared to work and once a person is afflicted, it appears to be a life-long illness.
As it seems that I went first in admitting that I have this illness and we now have a name for it, maybe by telling my story others will be helped and we will also understand that we do not have to suffer alone. Hopefully they too will share their story and together we might find some solace in knowing there are many others in this group.
Hello everyone my name is David and I am a Rifle Addict and this is my story. As you read my story, you will come to the realization that this disease is even more than just an addiction to firearms but also encompasses fishing, trapping, hiking, boating, snowshoeing, and in essence everything and anything to do with the great outdoors. I feel that the name RADD appropriately fits pretty well and besides that I like the name. I’ll try to tell this in a chronological fashion as I think it might make it easier for the layman to understand how this disease progresses and how severely it effects each of us.
My addiction started as young as the age of three or four when my parents, my grandparents, and aunts and uncles would take me fishing with a fly pole in small creeks and streams near where we lived. It was obvious that I was enjoying it by the look on my face when I would land a whopping 6 inch long brook trout. This then progressed to the age of 5 when my father could no longer come up with reasons that I could not join him and his friend when they went out frequently to check their trap lines. They trapped fox, badger, coyote, and bobcat. This is where the rifle addiction first started. We had .22 rifles with us on these trips to shoot rabbits with, and rabbits were what we used for bait. The .22’s were also used to dispatch the animals that they were fortunate enough to catch. I shot a lot of rabbits with that .22, and was making some shots that my father and his friend envied! We used the cottontails for the baits and turned in the jackrabbits at the mercantile as they gave us 25 cents for each jackrabbit so they could use their hides to make gloves and such. The money made from the jackrabbits was then in turn used to buy a hamburger and play a couple games of pool at a small town bar located in Reed Point Montana at the end of our tough day on the trap-line. That in turn lead to another addiction called billiards, but that’s another story.
At about the age of 8 I was given my first BB gun which was a lever action Daisy that held the BB’s in a large tube surrounding the barrel. I do not recall the exact amount of BB’s it would hold, but it was as I recall quite substantial. It had to number between 200-300 BB’s. Now the Daisy rifle was spring loaded, and the energy to shoot the BB resulted from cocking the rifle. It non-the-less had ample power to kill grasshoppers, starlings, magpies, dirt clods, and other big-game I could conjure up such as a tree stump. I remember finding out just how powerful the Daisy was when another friend of mine who was the same age as me and I decided to have a BB gun fight in the woods near the river where we lived. This particular river was the Stillwater River near Columbus Montana.
Being above average intelligence or so we thought, we decided that there should be some rules of combat laid out so we wouldn’t hurt each other, and maybe even lose an eye! We agreed that we would try not to shoot the opponent any higher than the middle of his stomach area so that we hopefully would not take one in the eye or the face. Our FIRST and ONLY battle started with a bang or a pffff quite literally. I saw right away that I had quite an advantage over my opponent/enemy. I could literally shoot my BB gun all day where as he had to reload his after about 30 shots. Once I figured this out, I really pressed the attack. My friend was running through the woods trying to reload his BB gun all the while wishing that he had a white flag to wave as a sign of defeat, but alas he had none. I continued pressing the attack and eventually got loaded back up and into the fight again. I also discovered that when he was running away from me, a well placed BB right in the soft spot behind his knee would put him down immediately. Oh sure he would get up almost right away and continue to run in an attempt to get away to a position of cover from which to fire back, but it sure slowed him down.
I was winning this battle we were having by a large margin because of my much greater volume of firepower. We both were taking some casualties though and were quickly finding out that a BB shot at what I would guess was roughly 150-200 fps or so really hurt when it hit you in the leg, the butt, or somewhere else. I remember the battle quickly coming to an end when my “friend” accidently shot me in the mouth after I had taken cover behind a tree and had lain on the ground to make as small a target as possible. I peeked around the tree to try and engage him again and he hit me in one of my upper front teeth. The BB did not touch any part of my lip which might have slowed the impact somewhat. It did not knock the tooth out and it did not break the tooth, but the pain I felt I would be the equivalent of having the dentist drill out a cavity in your mouth without deadening the gums first. It hurt! We never EVER engaged in another battle of this type again. WE decided that it was not that much fun after all.
It was at about the age of 9 when I got my first bow and arrows. Oh let the adventures begin! I had one of those cheap fiberglass long bows you can still purchase for the beginning archer today in various stores. They aren’t very powerful and I would guess that the bow I had took about 15-20 pounds to pull it back, but not more than that. It would shoot an arrow quite a ways though. I remember stalking deer and other animals back in the river bottom behind our house just practicing for the day when I would finally be old enough, and would either have a rifle or a bow to actually hunt with. One day I was with another friend of mine who also had a bow similar to mine. We were shooting stumps, attempting to shoot ground squirrels, and any other kind of vermin we might come across. All was fine and dandy until my Norwegian Elkhound found a skunk and started barking at it and trying to get at the skunk. The skunk of course was not going to take this lying down so he began fighting back by the only means that a skunk has. The air was soon filled with the aroma that only a skunk can make and boy was it powerful! My dog was barking at the skunk and circling it all the while getting sprayed with that wonderful fragrance. My friend and I decided that we needed to save my dog as “we did not want him to get hurt”. We each shot the skunk with our arrows that only had practice tips on them as that was all we were allowed to have at the time, which probably was a good thing. I have to also mention at this point that we each had only ONE arrow apiece! We were not very equipped for killing anything, but we had to try for my dogs sake, and try we did.
I remember shooting the skunk, and then my friend would shot him as well. We then had to approach this still alive skunk and recover our arrows so we could shoot him again. As you can probably imagine, we both ended up covered in skunk perfume. After just a couple of arrows each we were able to kill the skunk so he would not be getting into anyone’s chicken coop by golly, and our dog was now safe too. It’s really kind of amazing when I look back at this, but did you know that you can smell so bad that at some point you cannot actually smell yourself any longer? I didn’t think that was possible but it really is! We were pretty proud of ourselves so we carried the skunk home to show my mom what a great job we had done getting rid of one of those pesty buggers. I somehow don’t think she needed the visual of the trophy to verify what had taken place as she could smell us coming from several blocks away. Mom surprisingly was not very happy.
This was not quite the end of adventures with my little fiberglass bow. One day I was back on the river and was messing around like any kid does pretending I was hunting. I used to love to sneak as close as I could to the whitetail deer just to see how close I could get. Of course I would never shoot at one with my little bow as I would have gotten my bottom side warmed up a whole bunch! I wish I would have used more sense when it came to the neighbors cattle though. My grandparents had registered Herefords while those folks next door raised them awful Charolais. I spotted a group of about 20 head just on the other side of our fence and I used the wind and cover to sneak to within about 30 yards when they caught sight of me and took off running. The neighbor’s cattle were pretty spooky just like most range cattle are, but our Herefords were more like overgrown pets.
To this day I have no idea WHAT I was thinking or WHY I did this, but I raised my bow and took a shot at the lead cow as she was trotting broadside to me. Imagine my surprise, shock, nausea, fear, and anything else you can think of when my arrow hit that cow right behind the shoulder midway from the top of her back to bottom of her chest. I cringed in horror and started running for home but made it only a few steps when for some unknown reason I had to stop and turn around and see what happened. The feeling was similar in trying to not look at a bad car wreck, for which this situation most certainly was!! Fortunately the combination of the distance, my very weak bow, and the very tough hide on the cow kept the arrow from penetrating. There was only enough energy for the arrow to barely break the skin and hang there for a couple more steps after it hit her before it dropped to the ground. The cow would live to see another day and was fine, but I DON’T THINK I WOULD HAVE BEEN had that arrow killed that animal and my parents had to buy a beef from the neighbor. I guess one good thing that would have come from this if anything could, was the fact that my grandfather had a butcher shop in town and his slaughter house was only 100 yards away from where this incident all took place. I sighed a very heavy sigh that day and never told a soul about it until now. Even as I write this, I have a knot in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it. That was the end of the hunting adventures for a while!
I was still about 9-10 years old when I was back with another friend fishing one of the small creeks that ran through our place. We were using lures and were not having much luck on this day. Boredom began to set in and of course we started messing around because we were not catching any fish. I remember having on a three barbed lure at the time, and I believe it was a red and white Daredevil (how appropriate). I let out about 6 feet or so of line and began swinging my pole to the front and slapping the water with the lure, and then pulling it up just as hard and as fast and slapping the water behind me. Oh what great fun. I remember doing this for several strokes, and so was my friend. That is until after the lure slapped the water on my back side on one of my strokes, and when I pulled very hard on the pole to pull the lure over my head and slap the water in front of me, the line looped under itself on the up stroke, and that was enough for the lure to hit me in the middle of my back. It buried two of the three prongs on the lure as deep as they would go! My friend pulled the lure out of my back which was quite difficult with the barbs on it. We never said a word about it, certainly not to our mothers.
As I made mention to earlier, at about the age of 5 my dad was unable to keep me at home when he went to check his traps. Since I was now ten years old, he figured I was old enough that I could trap muskrats and raccoons in the woods behind our house, hopefully doing so without too much drama. This might also keep me occupied so he and his buddy could have some time alone without this young pest tagging along. This seemed relatively safe enough and my dad figured that I was probably not going to put too much pressure on the rats or the raccoons and he was correct. One day as I was checking one of my Muskrat sets I was in for quite a surprise. I caught something that I certainly had not targeted, that being a very large and a very angry Mallard drake! All of us enjoy hunting and fishing and eating the animals we harvest, yet we still are the most caring people when it comes to animals. That is why I would bet that most of us have pets who are a part of our families, and we as sportsmen took it upon ourselves to tax our equipment, and donate thousands of dollars and man hours each year to support our wildlife, and to make sure there is always a place for them so that our children will have the same experiences we have had. Okay back to the story………..
I was upset that I had caught this duck in my trap and I could see that his leg was broken. I did not intend to hurt him and all I could think about was taking him home and fixing him up. Now came the tricky part. How the heck was I going to get this very agitated duck out of the trap without him getting his pound of flesh out of me? I don’t remember all the details very clearly as it happened so long ago now, but I remember it was quite a battle that took several minutes before I was able to pin him in the water somehow and use my other hand or foot to release the trap. I do recall there was about 6 inches of snow on the ground and it was in the 0-10 degree range so it was quite cold. I got wet and can tell you it was VERY cold. The Mallard also got his pound of flesh out of me too! Who would have ever thought that they could bite the way they do, and it also hurts like @#$% when they peck you with their bill!! Trust me on that one.
It seemed strange to me, but once I had him wrapped up in my coat with just his head sticking out as I was carrying him home, he seemed to relax and I truly believe he understood that I really didn’t want to hurt him. That’s my story, but more than likely he was just exhausted from the battle that had taken place. I finally made it home and came in the house with this 4 pound Mallard drake in my arms. I told my dad what had happened and how I had rescued him. To my horror, my father wanted to cook him up for dinner. There was no way that was going to happen! I was pretty upset that he even suggested it. My plan was to fix him up not cook him up!
We did not have a very large house and we lived out in the country next to my grandparents. A creek ran behind the house about 70 feet away, and it was a fresh water spring and the creek would never freeze completely solid in one small are near the house. My grandparents had some domestic ducks that they fed, and of course that meant that there was a large contingent of wild ducks that would also make this home and would spend the whole winter here. I cannot imagine a better spot for my duck to be. So next thing you know we are all in our living room and we have this duck on the floor and are holding him down. My mother got a wooden clothes pin and we pulled it apart and took the metal out so we had two equal lengths of wood. We used those as a splint and straightened the ducks leg and set it as best as we could. We used some medical tape to secure the wood splint with because we knew it would resist the water for what we hoped would be long enough so that the ducks leg would set before the splint eventually fell off. WE had gotten him all fixed up at this point and we were just about to take him out back and put him in the creek with the rest of the ducks when he somehow got loose. I have to tell you that it’s pretty exciting when you have a full grown mature Mallard drake flying in your house, let alone a very little house! There were duck feathers and poop everywhere. I believe that a duck tends to poop quite a bit anyway, but when they get overly excited it really kicks in. After we chased him through the house for a few minutes, we were able to finally put the grab on him and get him outside to the creek. He seemed to settle right in with the other ducks and started eating on the corn we had put out for them. At this point we all were pretty tired and it had been quite day.
The duck stayed all winter with the mixture of wild and domestic ducks we had there in the creek. His leg healed pretty quickly and the tape eventually fell off and the splints dropped away. His foot was not quite like it should have been, but we truly had tried our best. You could pick my duck out of the rest of the ducks very easily. When you looked at their feet under the water, you could see right away that his one foot pointed in a like he was pigeon towed instead of pointing straight with his body. It would be just like a car having too much toe-in on one of the front tires. He could walk fine on the land, but when he swam in the water it was pretty funny to watch. He would paddle with both feet but because he was out of alignment so to speak, he would start to go in a circle. He actually learned how to compensate for this and would stop kicking with the bad leg for a few strokes, and would then only use his good leg for a few and that would straighten him out again. He could swim, but it was just that he couldn’t do it very fast any more.
That spring my duck stayed all summer and into the next fall and winter. He never left to migrate to the north and stayed in the creek near our home. There really was no reason for him to leave as we fed the domestic ducks, and the wild ducks helped themselves to the feast too. Finally that next spring he did leave and did go north. It was truly amazing when he returned that next fall and spent all winter near our house in the creek again. He left again that next spring and that was the last time we saw him. He never made it back the next fall and we don’t know what happened to him.
Now being around 9 or 10 years of age I was pestering my father to take me hunting every day during hunting season. I would get so upset when I could not go that I would even cry sometimes. The desire was just so great. When I was allowed to go, I would be up about 3:00 AM in the morning, a good two hours before my dad’s alarm clock was set to go off! I did not have an alarm clock but it was quite evident that it was not needed. I believe there were times that my father wanted to give his alarm clock to me, but it was not in the manner you would expect such a gift offering to be, because he wanted to throw it at me!! My dad had some patience, but he didn’t have it in what I would consider to be great excess. My dad and his buddy came up with a great plan. They figured that if they could not keep this kid at home then they might as well put me to work. Where we lived and we hunted deer, the canyons had large Ponderosa pine trees, Cedars, sage brush, and tall grass. They would drop me off at the bottom of one of these canyons and would tell me to sit there for 10 minutes or so before I started walking. They would then drive around the backside of the canyon to the top and would sneak up and get in position to watch the tops and sides of the ridges. I would start walking after I waited for what seemed like hours and would walk towards the top where they directed me to. I did not realize it, but I had become their bird dog. I walked mile after mile doing this for them without ever once complaining. I loved it. I thought I was part of the team. In reality I guess I truly was in the team, and I remember them getting a deer or two because of my efforts. I loved every minute of it and would not take back one single mile of it for anything! I learned early on that in hunting you sometimes depend on your partner, especially a good one and at the age of 10 I had become just that.
We advance a couple years now and it’s time for me to get to hunt my first big-game animal ever. We were going to Roy Montana to hunt deer and antelope on my grandfather LeRoy’s place. What was special about it too was the fact that my grandfather put me through his hunter’s safety course as he was an instructor and he had taught this for hundreds of other kids over the years. I would be using my 6mm Remington chambered in my Remington Model 600 Centennial that my father had given to me. The very first day we were out we were driving a two track on my grandfather’s place when we came over a little rise and there were about 20 head of antelope maybe 70 yards in front of us. By the time we got out of the truck they had already ran out of sight around a hillside. My dad had gotten off one shot at a buck just before he ran out of sight around the hill.
My dad and I were about 100 yards from the pickup watching where the antelope had ran to, and my father’s friend who was hunting with us was about 70 yards to our right. We had stood there for just a couple of minutes when this very same group of antelope come running back around the hill the exact same way they had just left. Why they did that I will never know. Before we could gather our senses most of the 20 head had gone past us and were running towards my dad’s friend and continued on past him. At the tail end of the group were three head of antelope straggling behind. There was a buck and doe in the lead that were running close together, and about 50 feet behind them came the last buck. My father and I pulled up to shoot at the bucks as they were running past at 60 mph. They were only about 70 yards from us and I guess we both figured we could make the shot. What the heck did I know? I had never shot anything let alone an animal streaking along like a bolt of lightning.
Someone was helping guide our shots in that moment, and the whole event on this particular morning. When my dad and I fired it sounded like only one shot had gone off. Three antelope went down in a heap. I remember jumping up and down saying I got him I got him over and over. We realized after it was all over, that I had actually gotten two antelope with one shot. My 100 gr. Corelokt had hit the buck in the ribs right behind the shoulder and had gone through him and had hit the doe just as she caught up to him and was on the far side of the buck. After going completely through him, the little 6mm bullet hit the doe towards the middle to the back of her ribs, just a bit too far back and had stopped just under the hide on her off side. Both my buck and the doe required a finishing shot even though the buck was finished, he just didn’t know it yet. My father’s friend had not even had the opportunity to fire a shot and there his antelope lay on the ground. A lot of years you could draw multiple tags for antelope, but this year we each only had one either sex tag. My dad’s friend was gracious enough tag one of the antelope I had taken with this one in a million shot. It was the right thing to do and I believe that the game warden would have agreed with that assessment. To say I was on cloud nine would be an understatement and the 6mm Remington had just become the king of all cartridges before it and after it! Unknown to me, but the RADD disease had already begun to fester in me like a bad case of Giardia.
My dad bought a reloader the next year and we started making our own rifle ammunition. My dad started loading 160 gr. Partitions in his 7mm Remington Magnum and he bought me some 100 gr. Hornady’s for my 6mm. For whatever reason, my rifle DID NOT like the Hornady bullet and my groups were more like a close range shotgun pattern than a rifle group. My dad then bought a box of NOSLER 100gr. solid-base boat-tails, or the 100 gr. Partitions. It’s been so long ago and this disease has taken so much out of me, that I am sorry to admit that I am not quite certain which bullet he bought except that I was all Nosler! The Noslers also shot great. He also taught me how to load my own ammunition which only made my disease considerably worse. To me it adds so much more to the hunt to take game with ammo that you have very carefully crafted for your rifle and the animal you are hunting. The great Noslers worked wonderfully on everything I shot and except for buying two boxes from another manufacturer many many years ago, all I have purchased and used in 38 years has been Nosler bullets of one kind or another. You can tell this was only making my affliction much worse. The Noslers shot well in everything you fire them in, and work on anything you shoot them at. Darn you Nosler!!
When I was about 17 I decided that I needed a larger caliber for elk and maybe black bears, and there really wasn’t any choice to be made other than to get a 30-06. I had also fallen for Remington and their Model 700. I saved my money and bought my first rifle which was a Model 700 ADL. I put a 6x Leupold on it with the duplex crosshairs. It was a great rifle that I eventually sold because I had became so enamored with Ruger’s new single-shot, and especially the #1B. I took quite a lot of game with my first 30-06 with one of those being a really nice 15” antelope that I shot at just a bit over 500 yards away while he was standing and feeding. You probably don’t have to guess which caliber I chose for the Ruger single-shot to replace the Remington. It was none other than the 30-06. I absolutely love that Ruger and yet I still wish I had that 700 ADL as it shot great and it was the first rifle I purchased on my own. If I could have that rifle or find it again, I would buy it back in a heart-beat. As you can see, I am a sick sick man like many of us and it is only worsening!
Now back to Remington. Darn those people but they came out with a 700 MTN rifle in get this, the.280 Remington. Not only was it then but still is THE most attractive rifle to ever have Remington stamped on the side, but to chamber it in the .280 well that was just brilliance personified!! Okay the new CDL is absolutely gorgeous too. I had to have one and eventually I did, I bought one of the Mountain Rifles. It was a wonderful rifle that I used to take my largest elk ever, a really really nice 6 point bull with a 43” inside spread and 53” long main beams. He was gorgeous. About this time though I was starting to feel the pull of the Mauser, the Winchester, and the Ruger MKII all with the Mauser style action, controlled round feed, and the rest of it. In addition to being all Mauser, the Ruger has that wonderful integral scope base that is pretty hard to beat for just being tough, tough, tough. Ruger does build a heck of a rifle, so I started to plan on getting one to replace my old .280 Remington. Then get this, Winchester pulls a fast one and starts making Model 70’s again in the United States no less, and built better than they ever were. The metals are better and the quality control is so vastly improved. The trigger’s were supposedly improved and I’ve heard that they are good, but I never ever read a single article critiquing the old Model 70 trigger. I’m still saving for that .280 that I just have to have, but I have not quite decided between the Model 70 and the Model 77.
I also have noticed recently that even though I have an absolutely fabulous Ruger #1B in 6mm Remington, I’ve been obsessing a lot over getting another 6mm, only this one in a bolt action! I’m thinking of either buying a used Winchester or Ruger for the ground work, and then having one of my two favorite gunsmiths chamber a new Shilen or Lilja 24”barrel for 6mm Remington and stick on it. I would either go with a wood laminate that will be both glass bedded and pillar bedded , or a top of the line synthetic with the aluminum bedding block. It would wear a Leupold no doubt and I am a fixed power guy and I am sure I would go with the 6 x 42. To change things up bit on this one though, I would have the custom shop use the duplex crosshairs with the dots on the bottom portion that would be calibrated for the BC of the bullet I will be using and the velocity it shot out of my rifle. I would like it thus calibrated with these hold-over’s for a distance out to 500 yards.
Even as I am writing this, I am beginning to see the ramblings of a very addicted person. Each paragraph appears to be much worse than the one prior to it. I am afraid the sickness has taken hold and it will be with me for the rest of my life. At this point in time there is no cure. I am going to add one last item to this dissertation and call it good as this has taken a lot out of me.
In one of our Forum sections, one of the discussions was a question as to how many of us take a back-up rifle on a hunt. I like many others have taken two rifles on a trip as a back-up in case something goes wrong with one, we have a second rifle to then fall back on. That all sounds well and good, but I got to thinking about it as it sounds like a logical and reasonable thing to do. Taking an extra rifle could very well salvage a disaster of some type if it should happen on a hunt we are on and the rifle we are using somehow is knocked out of commission, and we were left with nothing to hunt with. I thought back to when I would start taking more than one rifle or firearm with me, and it was very evident that even though this is the common sense portrayal I was attempting to show as an example by doing so, in retrospect it is something completely different.
It started with taking one rifle over to hunt deer and antelope on the same trip. It progressed from there. I then decided to take two rifles for big-game so I could use each rifle on something. I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for making one rifle jealous of the other one. I might use one for deer and then use the other rifle for antelope. One example would be the year I took my 6mm and my 30-06 with me. I used the 6mm for antelope and the 30-06 for deer. Another example would be the time I took my 6mm for deer and antelope and then took my old octagon barreled Winchester lever-action in 38-40 so I could use it to shoot a mule deer doe with. Later on I also decided I needed to take a .22 so I could hunt rabbits at night, and a shotgun so I could hunt pheasants and sage grouse when we weren’t pursuing big-game in the daytime. I am now up to four firearms, but yet there is more. I realized that I could also take my Recurve bow and maybe shoot a doe with it or even hunt elk. You used to be able to archery hunt elk in the Missouri Breaks on a general tag prior to FWP setting stricter regulations because of the increased pressure. The rifle hunters had to draw their tag in a special drawing at the time. I did just exactly that too on more than one occasion! I got to thinking about this malady and if I am being honest here, AND I AM BEING HONEST HERE, it has nothing to do with having a back-up rifle in case one of my rifles goes south on me! It’s all about this sickness that I have and nothing more. It is simply an excuse so that I can take more rifles at one time than could possibly be needed! This horrible disease is called RADD and I have it and I have it bad! May God bless all of you so afflicted as am I!

David- AKA. 6mm Remington
 

bullet

Handloader
Dec 26, 2007
4,973
7
You know I have counseled for many years now and I am a recovering RADD guy :) :) :) The truth is, I actually am :):):):) It is going very well at the moment and for the last two months I have not had the desire which is a record for me. If you notice I don't write much on the forum anymore which I am sure is a relief for some. :) After reading your post, I felt that I had just read an abstract to a dissertation. Please don't take the time to write the Dissertation!!!! :mrgreen: :mrgreen: :mrgreen: (Dissertation – a lengthy and formal written treatment of a subject, especially a long paper submitted as a requirement for a PhD, a formal spoken or written discourse. Which in my opinion as one who reads Dissertations for approval, your abstract indicates that you would not have your Dissertation approved. You will not get a degree of any kind. Why??? :mrgreen: This abstract is proof that you have many other aspects of personality disorder :) which counseling is required.) :):):):):)
 

6mm Remington

Ammo Smith
Feb 27, 2006
5,077
33
[quote="bullet"]You know I have counseled for many years now and I am a recovering RADD guy :) :) :) This abstract is proof that you have many other aspects of personality disorder :) which counseling is required.) [/b] :):):):):)[/quote]


Bullet you are very correct in that your comment is spot on. I am not certain if it is a personality disorder per say that I have, but might actually be my ethnic hereitage and the internal battles that are going on within me. :mrgreen: I mean COME ON NOW, my parents mixed about 1/2 part German, about about 3/8th Norwegian, and 1/8th Irish :!: What the :shock: were they thinking anyway! How was I supposed to even have a chance considering that special mix?

I'm glad to see bullet that you have come out of your shell so to speak to voice your opinion as it is much appreciated. I feel quite honored that it was my RADD report that brought you OUT OF THE CLOSET ( :oops: ) so to speak! :p How does THAT make you feel that you have finally admitted that you to are striken by this horrible disease? I sense that a very positive breakthrough has taken place here this morning. We need to make an appointment so as to make sure that you don't let as much time slip by until your next cherished response is shared with us all. I feel that it will not be long until will be blessed with your wit and charm in the future once again, and that the delay between posts will not be as long as they have been in the past. I just knew that once we had a name for this disease and how serious it is, and how detrimental to one's health that it can be, that the healing would start for all of us. I am just happy that I could help! :lol:
 

6mm Remington

Ammo Smith
Feb 27, 2006
5,077
33
If ANYONE knows of a boy or a girl that has a serious or life threatening illness, here are two wonderful places to contact. Even if you DO NOT know anyone that would love to have a fishing or hunting dream become a reality, it might not hurt to consider volunteering your services. I am putting my name out there to these groups. I'm not sure what I can do, but it would be neat to help. We need more young hunters to keep coming into the mix so they too can have the opportunity to be infected with this RADD disease that most of us have. Below are three wonderful groups!

Make a Wish Foundation: great group but no hunting or fishing- sorry

Catch-A-Dream- catchadream.org

Hunt of a LIfetime- www.huntofalifetime.org
 

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Handloader
Dec 26, 2007
4,973
7
Yes, I am glad I came out of the closet and admitted :mrgreen: I will always be a RADD, just not a practicing one :mrgreen: :mrgreen: 8) :lol:
 
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