The second amendment to the United States Constitution guarantees Americans the inalienable right to keep and bear arms. Posh places like the Shooting Academy at Nemacolin Woodlands Resort are giving them a reason to revel in it.

Because what good’s freedom without a little fun? And unlike the more lethal capabilities of the weaponry, sport shooting is all about fun.

Advances in the range dynamics, an appreciation of the exquisitely crafted equipment and the enduring thrill of the hunt are reasons why more and more game-minded men and women are getting all fired up about sport shooting. Just cradling a $12,585 Kreighoff K-80, 12-gauge, over/under shotgun in your arm enlivens the senses. Pulses race. Eyes scan the skies and ears become alert for any twitch in branch or bush that might betray the launch of a potential target. Peripheral visions flare to full and a finger on a trigger becomes an extension of the brain, ready to squeeze off a volley that will result in another bloodless victory of man over a tiny biodegradable chunk of molded clay zooming across the sky like a florescent comet going 50 mph.

The act unleashes the most primal passions of men and women who may spend their days in corridors of power where civility reigns and even mildly tart remarks about the inept boss’s ugly suit have to be stifled for fear of offending.

Pull the trigger and smash the dashing target into a thousand tiny pieces. It dawns on those who’d never dream of owning a firearm that, hey, shooting stuff’s fun!

Jim Nelson is a Pittsburgh executive and a lifelong hunter. An avid outdoorsman, he’s experienced the thrill of the hunt and, conversely, the time-consuming tedium of it.

“Anyone who enjoys hunting is bound to spend a lot of long hours waiting for a target that may never emerge,” he says. “What I love about shooting sporting clays is the endless action. Targets are popping up in the sky, from the bushes, from over your head. Some come bouncing along the ground. It really gets the adrenaline going.

“I went there with a friend who wanted nothing to do with it. He’s not even an outdoorsman, but after just one visit, he was hooked. He wound up buying a $3,000 Beretta shotgun. Now, he goes all the time.”

That’s a typical reaction of those who spend a sun-kissed fall afternoon with instructor and guide Robert Crow, who swears he’s seen even avowed pacifists bound away from a shooting session with an earnest intent to run out and get loaded in a way that has nothing to do with inebriation.

In fact, safety and sobriety are the twin hallmarks of sport shooting. No one who’s been drinking is allowed near a firearm, and alcohol is prohibited on the shooting grounds. Guests learn how to disassemble the weapons, how to put them back together and are given stern lessons on firearm safety. Respect for lethal weapons is so rigorously administered that in the eight years since it opened, Nemacolin has had fewer shooting accidents than Vice President Dick Cheney’s had in just two.

Indeed, if America was the shooting gallery that critics allege, it would be a much safer place. It’s like that at The Greenbrier, The Homestead, the Fairmont Kenauk at Le Chateau Montebello, Quebec, and other upscale shooting grounds around the world.

What they have in common besides sobriety and safety is unbridled exhilaration. The thunder of the gun leads inevitably to memories as electric as lightning.
Nemacolin is host to five National Sporting Clay Association events each year: the Bad Clay Challenge; the Hardy Invitational; the Hardy Classic; the Wild Turkey Bourbon Shoot; and the Laurel Highlands Winter Shoot. These are when the nation’s top competitors gather to run through the resort's two 140-acre wooded wonderlands that are dotted with deer, elk and the sort of wildlife that, in nearby regions, would themselves be considered trophy targets.

Incongruously, the wildlife don’t even flinch at the sound of a shotgun’s crack. They are so inured to the otherwise lethal activity that they don’t even spook. They graze nearby as clays are launched and targeted by weapons that cull their kind around the world. You need to wipe the Twilight Zone right out of your eyes as guides gently shoo deer off the target range, lest they fall victim to stray hostilities.

The stations are nestled on the ground and in trees amidst meadows, along streams and under lush canopies of oak and maple that tower above the shooter and conceal the sky.

It’s here where participants will blast away at as many as 400 moving targets each day of the competition. These so-called “Iron Man” contests wear on the nerves and can raise bruises on the sturdy shoulders of the competitors. No such anxious bruising is likely to occur to the trunks and extremities of even the daintiest of guests, Crow says.

“For us, it’s always a lot of fun to really awaken an enthusiasm for the sport in a novice or someone who’s never fired a gun,” says Crow, 24. “We have a lot of women who come and never dream of getting involved in hunting. The best is when they come here and one of them turns out to be a natural. And we love it when they end up doing better than the men or their husbands who come with their own equipment.

“I’m thinking of printing T-shirts with all the excuses we hear from shooters who get outscored by their wives.”

The list includes: “You’re pulling too early;” “Sun got in my eyes;” and the darkly suspicious, “Man, there must be something wrong with my gun.”

Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong an afternoon spent shooting clay pigeons. The Nemacolin courses feature 15 shooting stations each. Guests pay $115 for an hour of instruction, equipment rental, premium ammunition and 100 targets. Those who bring their own gear pay $70.

Unlike static skeet shooting, sporting clays is an invigorating activity. Guests are driven from the resort to the courses, often in souped-up golf carts, the same ones that will ferry them in between the stations that are, themselves, somewhat souped up against preexisting expectations.

And, again, unlike more traditional skeet, a sport that involves stationary positions, an hour spent blasting away at sporting clays involves a variety of delights. Clays range in size from roughly the circumference of a softball to ones small as golf balls. Stations are positioned to hurl clays almost 100 yards away to ones as near as 25 yards. Some “rabbit” clays scoot along the ground.

“It’s best at noon in the fall when the sky’s are clear and the sun’s coming straight down on you,” Crow says.

It’s much the same at The Greenbrier, the landmark White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, resort so steeped in heady tradition that the very idea of breaking anything, even a few ounces of vulcanized clay, seems to represent some sort of abomination. Yes, it’s that magnificent. The resort recently reopened after a $50 million renovation with upgrades ranging from wireless Internet and keyless locks to an ultramodern restaurant and cocktail bar.

The Greenbrier’s course was designed by British duo and sporting clay icons Justin Jones and John Higgins. If the names don’t ring a bell, consider that having Jones and Higgins design your shooting range would be like getting Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer to collaborate on your golf course. The pairing is guaranteed to draw raves and headlines.

The Homestead in Hot Springs, Virginia, is headed by renowned shootist David Judah, who instructs guests that the best way to “hit” a sailing clay is to aim to “miss” it by a foot from where it’s about to be. The shot sprays a pattern about three-feet long by three-feet wide. The key, Judah’ll say, is to lob the shot out in front of the target and let it run right into its own speckled demise.

Even if you have no harmful intentions, you’ll be glad they give you a gun when you march out into the 65,000-acre pristine playground for guests of the Fairmont Kenauk at Le Chateau Montebello in Quebec. The “Reserve de la Petite Nation" wilderness domain was granted by the King of France in 1674. The resort, with is magnificent cedar lodges, is one of North America's largest and longest-established private fish and game reserves, boasting more than 70 lakes within its 100-square mile borders.

A staff of biologists ensure preservation of the spectacular resources, and naturalists are available for guided exploration of the property.
Following an invigorating day of recreational skeet shooting, it’s expected that the participants do what the refined practitioners of the sport have been doing for years: enjoy a fine meal and, go ahead, order some rare bourbon or a single malt. The guns have been put away, and you’re free to imbibe. Do so. It’ll help settle the adrenaline and polish the memories.

At Orville’s at Nemacolin, you can repose and sup in splendor beneath regal trophy mounts from legendary hunts. It’s the perfect environment in which to unwind and to wax philosophic about the great questions with which all men of reason must wrestle:
What’s the meaning of life?
Where do we go when we die?

And for heaven’s sake, could a day spent shooting sporting clays be better than a day spent shooting golf?

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