I experienced an interesting euphoria at my family's cabin on the lake this weekend, one that I will likely never be able to match doing anything else.

For the first time in my 23 years inhabiting this earth, I shot a firearm.

Now before anyone sends angry letters suggesting that I (or anyone else who works here) is in bed with the gun lobby (which I have found, is very small in Canada and mostly confined to rural areas), I'm not.

I have little interest in hunting game or harming others, which I would assume are the only uses for guns -- they don't appear to be too practical for yard work or making home improvements (unless you want to destroy things slowly and very loudly), for example.

Friday evening, after arriving at the lake, I spotted a black, metal thing that looked like a gun. My parents have never kept weapons, short of a slingshot to keep the geese away in the summer months, so I was intrigued.

I took the weapon outside (safety on) and examined it. Releasing the clip showed that my suspicions were exactly right: it was a BB gun. The copper ammunition was smaller than a ball bearing and, as I later found out, could barely put a dent in a beer can.

There wasn't a lot to do this past weekend, so I spent much of it trying to perfect my aim with the gun. Eventually, I was able to hit some pop and beer cans positioned about 40 feet away from me.

This really was fun.

In this part of the world, there is a simmering hysteria about guns and gun crimes.

As a civilized society, unless you're hunting for food or trying to keep animal predators away from your farm, there's no need to have a gun, and even then, I would imagine few hunters or farmers are packing a Glock.

That said, I'm looking forward to the next time I go up to the lake. Those two-year-old Colt 45 cans won't know what hit 'em.