How to Shoot Skeet

Nicole Jardine| originally written 1/2011

This one time I was visiting friends in Atlanta. We were deciding how to entertain ourselves for a few hours on a Saturday. I realized that I had been living in the South for two years and had yet to fire a gun. There was only one conclusion. “Why don't we got skeet shooting?”

Now, you’re looking at a gal who’s an ex-vegan, tree-hugging, water-conserving, peace-loving, California-raised, in-many-respects hippie. I now enjoy steak as much as the next person, but I really am a vegetable-lover who prefers to employ the “if it’s yellow, it’s mellow” rule. The last and indeed only time I’d ever fired a gun was when I was at a ranch camp at the ripe old age of 9. It was once, it was a .22 rifle, and it was at a haystack. I never owned a bb gun. (I did, however, own a fantastically low-tech laser tag set that my brother and I wore out on a daily basis.)

In a nutshell: I’m not naturally a gun person.

But here we are.

I went with three companions. One, like me, also does not buy into the whole guns-ammo-manliness thing. The other two, a superbly awesome couple whom we were visiting, actually go to shooting ranges for handguns. None of us really knew what skeet-shooting was besides, well, shooting at something.

We called the skeet-shooting range, ostensibly for directions, but also to give them sufficient warning that a bunch of n00bs would be soon arriving.

I dialed the number. “Hello, Tom Lowe Trap ‘n’ Skeet range.” The man who'd answered spoke with a slow, pleasant drawl. And was that the sound of tobacco being spit across a room?

“Hi there. I’ve got a party of four people, and we’d like to come in for a bit. None of us have, um, ever shot skeet. Are there instructors?”

“Sure are.”

Brief and to the point – I like that. “Okay. And two of us aren’t really gun-experienced….”

He laughed. “We’ve got the easiest shotguns in the world. A baby could do this!”

I had my doubts.

With those assurances, off we went! We battled a discouraging storm but, armed with GPS and excitement, we pushed through and arrived at the range.

This range consists of 10 courses, for lack of a better word. Each course is divided by a smaller-than-I-would-expect-for-lots-of-guns wooden wall that hides the machines that shoot skeet. We walked through this area in wonder, and went into the shop. After the first few questions betrayed our total lack of awareness of what we were actually doing, we had some knowledge dropped on us.

Skeet are orange clay discs about the width of your hand. (We’re ignoring Urban Dictionary’s definition of skeet for the purpose of this story.) The idea is to simulate bird-shooting. A skeet-shooting course consists of 5 locations spaced along the edge of the field. The skeet are shot from one of two “traps” that fire the targets. Only one person shoots at a time, under the guidance of the instructor for first-timers.

Here's how it works. Clay disc zooms through air. You shoot it.

The four of us bought one round of 25 shots each, and all rented one shotgun to share. We got set with earplugs (for the safety) and protective goggles (for the hotness) and set off to Court 8 to find our instructor.

I regret to say that I do not remember our instructor’s name because I was so distracted by the fact that he looked and sounded approximately 100% like Dave Chappelle and was wearing a ridiculous hat.

He showed us how to load a shotgun (I’m a newbie, okay?), how to hold the gun, and how to reload without the shell flying up in your face. He told us that we would load, stand ready, and at our word, he would press a button to let the disc fly. And we would shoot it.

I was feeling insecure and slightly terrified so I let some folks go first. Numero uno: Eric! Eric owns a handgun, so I watched him closely to see how he aimed and timed his shots.

Eric’s lovely wife Kristin went next. I observed as “Dave” (for lack of a better name) corrected arms and stances, and then skeet came out and they fired. And they hit! They hit it! Moving targets! I felt simultaneously impressed and immensely unskilled.

I agreed to go third anyway, and stepped to the station.

I palmed four rounds and was handed the empty shotgun. The gun was very simple, very stripped down from most shotguns. It was heavy, but lighter than expected. I stared a little helplessly at Dave, who grinned. “Never shot a gun buh-fo?” I laughed nervously. “I did once! 14 years ago.” At this he laughed and, shaking his head, he showed me how to load the two rounds in the barrel. I closed the gun, which also cocks it.

“Press it up agains’ your showlder,” Dave said. He’s the kind of guy who’s laid back, cocky, laughing at the world and its dumb cityfolk.

I did as was told, or tried my best. You’re supposed to hold the gun so that the recoil doesn’t break your collarbone. Put your head down. Oh, and forward. Oh and keep your right elbow up. Sight with your right eye. Shift your weight forward. Elbow UP, man! (Dave’s voice.)

I settled into a somewhat acceptable stance. I was, I admit, as nervous as I was excited.

“O-kay,” Dave said in his sprawling tone. “Now, the skeet’s gonna come out here.” He pointed to the opposite side of the course. “It’s gonna fly about this high, and come this way. You’re gonna see it. Watch it. Then shoot it.” He paused. “Now, when you’re ready, you say ‘go’, and I’ll press the button, and that’ll launch the skeet.”

I took a breath.

Released, lowered my head, focused. “Go.”

A loud whack. Then, there it was! Orange! I squeezed the trigger.

BAM.

Complete miss and HOLY COW WAS THAT LOUD. Right in my ear! And I clearly wasn’t shouldering the gun properly, because ouch.

Dave’s voice was that of an oh-so-slightly condescending but patient instructor. “Okay, we’re gonna try again. This time, watch!”

I was still reeling from that first shot. But I took a deep breath. Released. “Go.”

I saw the skeet. Watched it. BAM. Missed again.

Dave shook his head. “Come on girl, I know you got it in you!” I didn’t say much, just opened the gun to let the shells jump out. Reloaded. I looked at him hesitantly, and he just said, “Watch it, aim, and fire.”

I was getting a little discouraged. Eric and Kristen had done amazingly well. I had yet to hit one. But I tried again. Missed. Drat!

Here, I think, Dave started to take pity on me. “Now, come on. The skeet will come out here. It’ll go up, like this. Watch it. Follow it with yer gun.” He held up his index and middle fingers together. “See this? This is how far ahead of it you should shoot. Do that.” Well, now he tells me! I mentally griped. Then I grinned, got it together. Took a deep breath. Aimed. “Go,” I said firmly.

The skeet came out. I watched it, really watched it this time. Followed it with the barrel. Squeezed the trigger.

BAM. And… a hit! Orange clay showered the grass, and my three companions cheered. Dave may have even smiled.

Companion number four was up next. Armin, like me, was totally unexperienced at shooting. Unlike me, he did extremely well. I was, I realized glumly, horrible at this! Probably because I was shaking and just a little terrified and that doesn’t improve your aim, but I didn’t let that on. We all went to the second post.

Eric and Kristin went, and did fantastically well again. Then I was up. We shot a number of rounds again, and I still didn’t improve. Part of me wanted to blame Dave’s haranguing, another part of me wanted to blame my utter lack of first-person-shooter videogaming experience, but most of me just wanted to keep at it despite suckage. So I did.

Around the third station was when I actually started to improve. I finally “got it.” I knew how to sight the skeet, and how far ahead of the disc to fire. I had acclimated to the sound of the shotgun and the sharp recoil, and I had finally relaxed. And – importantly – I was hitting targets! Dave was even starting to like me. “See, girl, you got this! I knew you’d be my favorite student.”

We all continued to do well (or, in my case, suck less). Morale was high, we were all having fun. Then we went to the fourth station. But here’s where they mix it all up: they shoot skeet from the other side of the course.

I missed the first one and laughed. Dave tsked me. “Come on, you had this.” I grinned. “I’m from Hawaii! We eat, like, pineapple. Pineapple’s really easy to catch, you know?” He laughed. I aimed again, and hit the next one.

Finally we arrived at the fifth and final course. Here’s where it gets fun. Two discs fire from side 1, closest to you. You choose one and shoot it. This happens twice. Then two discs are launched from side 2, afar. You choose one and shoot it. This also happens twice. Finally, the quick-shot round: a single skeet is launched from side 1, followed two seconds later by a single skeet from side 2! The objective? Hit both.

Eric was first. He did well on the single-shot round, and hit one of two in the rapid-fire round. Kristin was next. She did extraordinarily well, hitting both rapid-fire targets!

Then, me. I stepped up.

First, the single-fire rounds. I did alright on those; if memory serves, I hit both from location 1, and one from location 2.

Then the rapid-fire round. I reloaded. “I know you got it in you,” Dave said. “Get them targets!”

I took a deep breath. Released. “Go.”

A disc fired from my right side. I narrowed my eyes, trailed it as I heard the disc fire from the opposing side. BAM. Gotcha! Sighted the second skeet quickly. BAM. Got you too, sucka!

I can’t believe I got both. What a change from the quivering mess I was at the first station! Armin finished up and also did well. Power to the citydwellers, bro.

Dave declared the ladies the winners, as we were the only ones who hit both in the rapid-fire round.

Verdict: Skeet shooting is really fun. I highly recommend it and I will definitely do this again at some point. I also suggest you celebrate like we did: with ibuprofen because our shoulders felt like they had been pummeled by a rhinocerous, and beer because that's what you do after shooting things.