Although chilly, it was the first decent day after two weeks of brutal cold. When I arrived at the range in the early afternoon, every bench was occupied. Seeing me, one guy in the middle of the line said he was leaving. Once it was clear, I grabbed the bench and started unloading my gear.
The young guys on either side were clearly friends. They had filled the tables between the benches with bags and an assortment of the latest guns and accessories. Every gun wore a suppressor, even the handguns. I only wished they had them installed on their persons.
All the time I was shooting, they continued a stream of loudly shouted, snappy dialog back and forth past my head. I suspect it was English, but I hardly understood a word they said. It seemed like they knew every acronym, abbreviation, buzz word and every alphanumeric name in the gun world. It was in truth a bit impressive.
I believe myself to be well schooled on this subject, and I am rarely caught off guard with some new “insider” bit of trivia or the clever name of the latest popular firearm. This time, like the old joke, it was all Greek to me. For a time, I just sat at my shooting bench and listened in awe.
All the while, as they continued with a chattering exchange of acronyms and numbers and letters in incoherent strings, they were rotating through the guns on the tables at a rapid pace. They would each grab multiple loaded magazines from a bag, insert one in the gun and fire rapidly in no particular discernible pattern until the bolt locked back. They would replace the empty magazine with a fresh one and repeat until all magazines were empty. Then they would move on to the next gun and continue. On either side of me, the air was filled with smoke, empty brass, the incessant drone of suppressed fire and dueling forced facetious dialogs.
If they were actually aiming, it eluded my notice. There were targets downrange, including some reactive steel spinners, but I was never able to witness a bullet strike anything of consequence. They were just blasting, pontificating and exchanging what must have been witticisms.
Listening carefully, I was finally picking up bits and pieces, but as I had never encountered this type before, I was unfamiliar enough with their lingo to understand any of the nuances of their language. Still, I thought it was time to engage.
Although I was careful not to move too close and spook them, I did try to approach with some carefully worded questions during the down time when they reloaded their magazines. They indicated no other interests, obsessions or hobbies. Apparently they lived at places they called “home” with some older members of their tribe.
I questioned about their knowledge of the foundations of the shooting world. I asked about the old masters, classic books and the legacy of shooting. They indicated both a lack of knowledge and an unwillingness—or at least quite a disinterest—in learning anything more. I saw one was getting skittish and ready to bolt, so I carefully worded the last inquiry and made sure to use a non-threatening voice.
“Where did you learn these things you were saying and about the guns you are shooting?”
It is apparently a place that is popular among members of the tribe, called “YouTube.”
It was then that I realized the sociological importance of this chance encounter. Like those primatologists and anthropologists who paved the way—Jane Goodall, Dian Fossey and others—I may have stumbled onto a completely new species of shooter.
There have long been hushed tales told late at night of their existence, but never any proof. In searching their native habitat, I have seen their spoor: large piles of empty brass that can be identified by certain markers. In the pile, you will primarily find cases stamped 5.56 NATO, 9 mm or 7.62x39 mm, which are clear indicators that the droppings may be from this mythical creature.
While I had never actually seen one in the wild, I realized I had almost certainly found two examples of that elusive genus, gunnurdus.
I was in the presence of a pair of gun nerds, who are said to be an emerging species inside the larger family of shooters. They are mostly relegated to the first generation to have grown up entirely under the influence of the internet: Gen Z.
Speculation is gun nerds are a very small and obscure subset of that generation. Their significance remains to be proven, but one must ask: Will they be the salvation of the shooting world?
