By Lisa Chmelecki,Staff Writer

AUBURN – Claire Bailey’s husband has been trying for 33 years to get her to go shooting with him.

He tried to convince her that the thrill of pulling the trigger would hook her immediately.

When that didn’t work, Michael Bailey attempted to guilt his wife into it. He told her that he hated spending every Wednesday and Sunday – practice days at the Androscoggin Fish and Game range – away from her.

Bailey turned him down every time.

She loved camping, fishing and hiking. But she had no interest in shooting. Guns scared her.

Two months ago, when Michael Bailey learned one of his fellow Androscoggin Fish and Game Association members was planning a special shooting clinic for women only, he rushed home to tell his wife.

“I just looked at him and said, I’m not interested in guns, you know that. No way,'” Bailey said.

This time, her husband tried a different approach. He sold the idea to his daughter, Jennifer Provencher, and his son’s girlfriend, Gretta Gundel. Then he let them doing the convincing.

It worked.

On Saturday morning, the three of them joined four other local women in the Androscoggin Fish and Game Association’s first “Women on Target” clinic.

Started by the National Rifle Association, the workshops are designed to get more women interested in the male-dominated sport by creating a comfortable atmosphere where the attendees are less likely to feel intimidated.

The day started in the Auburn clubhouse with an introduction to the program and a discussion about safety.

About 10 minutes into the workshop, Bailey was ready to head to the range for the first session – shooting clay pigeons with shotguns.

She stood on the porch and practiced her stance with the other women as her daughter, a former soldier in the Army, blasted two of her five pigeons. When organizer L.J. “Mac” McPeake asked for the second volunteer, Bailey’s hand burst in the air.

She listened carefully as the volunteer instructors told her how to position the 12-gauge shotgun next to her shoulder. They reminded her to keep her head down, her eye even with the gun.

“When you are ready, put your finger on the trigger and yell, Pull,'” Dick Braunfels told her. “Then, when the barrel covers the clay pigeon, pull the trigger.”

Bailey spread her legs, lowered her chin and squinted.

“Pull,” she shouted.

Two men sitting in a shack behind her pressed a button to send the orange, clay disc through the air.

She missed the first one, then the second. The third one, the instructors assured her, was close. The fourth one, even closer.

“One more time,” Bailey said under her breath as she loaded the last bullet. She readjusted her feet, then called for the fake bird.

Without moving her chin from the gun, she lifted it slightly, then squeezed her finger. The blast was followed by a cracking noise. The clay disc shattered to pieces.

Bailey did a little dance as the other women shouted and clapped.

Cathy Grondin, another participant, nodded her head and grinned. She knew what Bailey was feeling.

Grondin started shooting with her husband seven months ago. Now she’s the one who begs him to go to the range every weekend. She believes women actually have a better eye than most men.

The others liked the sound of that.

Later, as the group was proceeding to another area for the handgun session, Bailey told her daughter that her days of getting her nails done were over.

Manicures are expensive. She needed to save her money for bullets.