Did Cowboys and Indians have Pellet Guns

My Father had taught us boys from an early age to respect fire arms and treat them as though they could kill at any moment. One of my earliest memories of shooting a gun was the farm in Grassy Lake Alberta. I think. Resting the barrel of my Dad's little .22 cal rifle on a cross board of the fence, lining up the sights and shooting at cans. I have a recollection of shooting his .303 and getting knocked on my butt by the recoil. However as I stated this is a fuzzy memory at best. The point is we were farm kids, raised to respect certain things. So it may come as no surprise that as we reached a certain age (12 I think) my Dad would by us each our own air rifle. Why not, we were raised to care for and respect these items, as well we were living in the country with lots of back woods in which to develop our skills. I just think that if he had even the slightest clue about what we were really capable of he would never have considered getting them for us.

For starters, My Mom's Christmas lights were history. The large old bulbs on the green wire were hung with care by Mom one year. They stayed up all year. She just replaced the bulbs as needed. Which was often. The point is they make the coolest popping noise to a twelve year old with an itchy trigger finger.

Birds were an endangered species in our yard. My younger brother, Nolan had a bedroom at the front of the house. Both windows opened to give a 180 degree view of the yard. There was a small hole in each screen, just large enough to allow the barrel of the gun to fit through for that stealthy, clean shot. I know, I know, poor birds. I think that now, but hey I was twelve.


Not quite sure when we discovered that the flat headed pellets hurt, but left the skin intact. I am sure it was not by accident. If one of us was shot first I am quite confident it was out of malicious intent. We were all about revenge in those days. Needless to say it was discovered and from that point on all of our "hunting" trips would inevitably turn into an scene from the latest movie depicting the war in Vietnam. We loved the jungle warfare, Gi Joe stuff. How we were able to keep all of our eyes is still a miracle in my opinion. We would set ground rules as to distance and such and we would go to town "hunting" each other. These were single shot rifles, sneak attack was everything. Nolan, however would always take it to the next level. He would find himself pinned down and wait for you to reload. He would them charge with full war cry and plug you in the back side as you ran for dear life. This was of course at close range and it hurt.

We often took this little adventure to new heights as we would get older. We as brothers would fight, and fight hard. It didn't take long before the guns would come out ant we would shoot at each other on the house. The trick is ensuring you fill all the holes in the wall before your parents get home. I would like to think that my parents never had a clue what was going on, but as I get older and have teenagers of my own I have come to appreciate the comforting power of denial.