Boasting aside, I am quite satisfied with the systems I have developed for the teaching of general-purpose field marksmanship. These systems have not only worked supremely well for hardened male athletes, but also for women and girls, including my own children and grandchildren.
In the last couple of decades I have hunted a good deal in Africa and have made many good friends among African
professional hunters. These good men continue to horrify me with tales about sportsmen who show up in the biggame
fields without any sort of background, theoretical or practical, in the use of the rifle. The Art of the Rifle can correct
this dismal state of affairs—if you let it. You cannot learn how to shoot by reading a book, any more than you
can learn how to play tennis from a text. However, without a grasp of the text you are making life difficult for yourself
and under some circumstances making life dangerous for both yourself and those around you.
There is a terrible moment when the professional hunter first sees his client handle his rifle. He can see in a
few minutes whether the forthcoming adventure is going to be a trial or a joy. Our good friends among the professional
hunters never mention names as a matter of principle, but their campfire tales serve to balance the bloodcurdling
against the hilarious. There is not much danger in big-game hunting; with such as there is, the great predominance is
the danger of gunfire. You are not very likely to be squashed by a buffalo (though this indeed can happen), but
if you go afield with the wrong man there is a pretty good chance that you may be shot.
Not everyone, of course, is going to take to the field after big game, and very few of us experience the combination of
exhilaration and heart-stopping excitement of a firefight. (You may note that I did not use the word fear. Fear is a bad word,
and though we may know it, we do not talk about it nor let it influence our behavior.)