American Handgunner May/June 1977

By MASSAD F. AYOOB"That's as good as you'll get!"Hal Swkett yelled as thethree Corsican sheep broke cover and ran.The Colt Python -357came into my hand without my havingto think about it. As my lefi hand wrapped around my right,the weakerfingertips already interlocking with the whiteningknuckles of the strong, I watched over the front sight waitingfor a clear shot at the ram. At lust he pulled out ahead of thetwo ewes who wereflanking him, and 1 held the sight ahead ofhis barrelling brown chest as I began to roll the trigger back. . .y good friend Hal Swigett had suggested some time be-M fore that I pay a visit to the famed Y-0 Ranch in Texas.LLYou'll never get handgun hunting like this back East," he'dsaid. And now I was there, on a side trip to attempt to get myconfidence back after a disastrous performance at the $18,000purse National Shooters League tourney in Wyoming.I had shown up on fairly short notice, but Charlie Schreiner111, owner of the Y-0, was able to accommodate me. The factthat it was early September helped. That's the off-season forTexas hunting, 'cause stalking animals across the pastures andprairies during a Lone Star summer literally ain't too cool. Buteven during the heavy months, Charlie can usually find a slot foryou if you give him three weeks or so notice.On arrival, you're treated to a home-cooked dinner and anevening of relaxed drinking and conversation in the impressivelodge with its trophy-room motif. Then it's to bed in comfortable,Western-decorated cabins, to await a temfic dawn breakfastand a memorable day of hunting. Being a handgunner, I hadthe good fortune of spending a couple of hours with Charlie andhis Colt collection. If you're into collecting at all, you've heardabout Charlie and his prime pieces, and a lookat them is not tobe missed.The first morning, I filled up on Bobbie the cook's bacon,eggs, and biscuits, and then dragged my equipment together.For a hunter, I looked pathetic. I had packed nothing for the impromptutrip, and the only hardware I had with me was a combat-customized-45 auto, a 6" Dan Wesson Pacesetter -357, anda couple of combat competition holsters.Since I'm a gun writer, I naturally started thinking quick tofind some kind of gimmick to write a story around. Taking gamewith handguns is nothing new at the Y-0; about three to five percent of all the guests use belt weapons. Borrow a black powderhandgun? Nope: Hal, who has probably shot more game withmuzzle loaders than anybody since the days of Jim Bridger, haddone it already. The -45 auto? Nope, Hal and others had beenthere first with that too. Sneak up on some unsuspecting animaland pistol-whip it to death? No way though many of us Easternersbelieve that game-ranch shooting is something where theydrive you up on top of some half-tame animal so close that thetaxidermist has to take the tire tracks off the hide, it reallydoesn't work that way. There are game ranches in Texas because