I used to come home from high school, change clothes, have a bowl of cereal, grab Pop's Springfield .22 and walk across the street up in the farmer's fields and shoot woodchucks till dinner time. The farmer loved it because they would dig holes that would break his farm equipment. I just had to put the dead ones back in the hole.
Pop taught me how to shoot a shot gun right in the back yard. He'd get about 50 or 60ft away from me and toss old 78rpm records in the air for me to shoot at. No one ever complained. These days it would take one shot and the neighbors would be dialing 911....because they'd be convinced a felony was being committed.
Heck, I used to put the shot gun over the handlebars of my bike and ride a mile down to the lake to shot ducks in the evening. People would drive past me and either pay no attention or just wave.
