I’m not a big hunter. OK, I’m not big generally (at least vertically) and I don’t hunt. In my 52 years I somehow never got around to it. So I’m thinking of going on a bear hunt. I’m not scared. Uh-oh! Claws! Big sharp claws! Can’t go around them. Can’t run away from them. Must shoot them! Actually, center mass. Anyway, in preparation for this mythical massacre (of the ursine predator not me) I’ve been practicing with my Remington 700 SPS. Imagining a target with a ‘tude focused my mind a lot more than usual. Stance, breathing, trigger control, wait for it . . . wait for it . . . By the same token, I remember Roy Hill’s description of hyper-sensitivity to stimuli during a feral hog hunt—the same kind of situational awareness that could help an armed citizen in Detroit (especially if he used to write a series called “GM Death Watch” (which, amongst other things, called a Marine aviator an idiot). Am I onto something here, or just on something? Oh yes, I almost forgot. BANG!