"Six, seven, eight, nine... where's number 10? Jesus Christ." Tony, our bearded Italian-Canadian instructor, stomps past us and out the door. Through the mangled venetian blinds, we see him yelling across the parking lot. He stomps back inside. "Smoking in his car. Unreal."

Colin, early 50s, thinning hair, in red lumberjack flannel, wanders in with glazed eyes. He's been baked for two days. "Gosh, sorry fellas. I uh... didn't... well, sorry." He's holding a 1-litre fruit smoothie. Tony is on the other side of the room, holding the door to the range open. "Come on guys, let's go!" On the bench is a row of shiny black handguns, waiting for us.

Welcome to gun school.

What's your name and why do you want a firearms license?

That's the first question they ask at the Canadian Firearms Academy ("Academy" is somewhat grandiose for a two-room rental unit in a central Surrey strip mall, but hey, that's what it says on the printout taped to the door). Why are we here?

One guy has a police officer son, and would like to bond more as a family.

Another guy has an uncontrollable jitter and a strong desire to go hunting.

Another guy, having stepped out of a brand-new black BMW, expresses in precise, Korean-accented English his interest in target practice.

Another guy (yes, it's all guys) says from under his white toothbrush moustache: "My name is Bob. Because it's my right!"

My own reasons are a blend of the above. Certainly I want to harvest my own meat. I'd rather shoot an animal and watch it die on the ground than eat drive-thru burgers. Of course it's fun to shoot targets, too. But keep asking and you might get an answer like Bob's. It's my right. Why shouldn't I? Luckily, there's never been a better time to be a Canadian gun owner.

Warning shots

A curious exchange took place in a House of Commons committee hearing in February. Justice Minister Rob Nicholson was answering questions about Bill C-26, his citizen's arrest bill (now in the final stages of adoption). Brian Jean, the Tory MP for Fort McMurray-Athabaska, wanted to know if the minister thought firing warning shots to be an acceptable Canadian practice: "People have used firearms, shot in the air or shot around the people. Would that be a reasonable use of defence in the circumstances?" Nicholson replied "I think it is."

Brian Jean was simply voicing the concerns of some of his rural constituents, who apparently are plagued by people trying to steal their recreational vehicles. Believe me, as a cyclist in Vancouver, I can relate. I'm paranoid about thieves trying to cut my lock. So under Bill C-26, If I catch somebody in the act, can I pop off a couple shots above or around the alleged thief, then force them to the ground at gunpoint, effectuating a citizen's arrest?

Says the minister: "I mean, every case is decided on its own but the individual who -- as people are for instance coming onto their property, stealing or destroying or trying to take possession of their property -- the individual who wields, shows a firearm, again, it's what is reasonable under the circumstances." That strikes me as pretty rock-solid. Canadians are adults, after all. Gun owners in particular are a conscientious bunch.

Still, watching Colin on the range in Surrey, I'm a little concerned. He has a nasty habit of holding a pistol flat in front of his face to examine it. You know, pointing it toward the head of the student to his left. During loading exercises, his finger keeps wandering inside the trigger guard, despite repeated warnings from the instructors. When a "cease-fire" is called, he puts the Beretta down and walks away, leaving the clip in the gun and a round in the chamber. Fortunately it's a dummy round, and the firing pin has been taken out of the gun for training.

We break for lunch. Everyone heads to the Hook & Ladder Neighbourhood Pub, nestled above a ravine at the end of the strip mall. "Guys, do not drink," warns Tony's daughter, one of our instructors. "My dad is very serious about this. Not even one." We sigh. It's a tough directive to follow. At noon the pub is packed, and everyone else appears to be several pints deep. However, as responsible firearms students, we order coffee instead.

Hollow-points

When we were going around the circle introducing ourselves at the beginning of the weekend, I got in trouble for using a bad word. (No, not a cuss-word. Tony's nickname for me is "Tabernak," thanks to my Quebec driver's license.) I used the term "weapon," as in, "I figure if I'm getting my basic gun license I might as well be familiar with restricted weapons." Tony barked: "These are not weapons!"