Logan County Trapshooting Builds Discipline for Rural Students

Trapshooting is the only high school sport in Colorado where you pay to shoot your own guns, and it’s teaching rural kids how to handle them without losing their minds.

That’s the short version of what’s happening at the Logan County Shooting Sports Complex near Sterling. It’s not just about hitting clay pigeons. It’s about discipline. It’s about belonging. And it’s about a quiet rebellion against the idea that rural kids are just waiting to blow themselves up.

Caleb Schneider knows this better than most. The 18-year-old stands at the ready. Shotgun in hand. Cheek resting against the stock. He doesn’t fumble. He doesn’t hesitate. When he yells “pull,” a clay pigeon arcs across the sky. Blinding sunlight washes out the texture. Objects lose definition. But Schneider hits every target.

He loves heavy metal. He loves football. He loves his Bible. But mostly, he loves the precision of the sport. Schneider is the pride of the Caliche High School trapshooting team. He’s soft-spoken. Polite. A top contender in every competition this year. States are right around the corner.

But today is about more than championships. It’s about a milestone. Schneider is chasing 50 of 50 clays launched from the trap house. If he hits them all, he earns a spot in the elite. His teammates are chasing the same thing. Hitting 25 of 25 clays in a row is a major hurdle. It’s called “25 straight.”

When someone achieves it, tradition kicks in. The team shoots the shooter’s hat off the wall. It’s a rite of passage. Midmorning, several kids take their places on the firing line. When junior Michael Liñam’s hat goes up, they all blast it together. Later, Liñam will hang that newly ventilated hat on his bedroom wall. Next to his first varsity letter.

This isn’t just a hobby. It’s a lifeline for many of these rural schools. There are 37 schools participating in the Colorado High School Clay Target League. Most are in rural counties. Many are in conservative communities. Some lack extracurricular activities entirely. Trapshooting fills that void. It offers a place to belong. It offers a path toward college.

Yet, it sits in the middle of a fierce debate. The one that hits on politics. On mental health. On personal freedom. On conflicting ideologies surrounding parenting and gun ownership.

On one side are people who say the best way to teach a kid about guns is to give them a gun. They argue that familiarity breeds respect. They claim that handling a weapon responsibly in a controlled environment prevents accidents later.

On the other side are people who say no matter how much training a kid gets, access increases the risk. They point to the data. They point to the suicides. They point to the accidental discharges. They argue that giving a teenager a high-powered shotgun is a gamble with their life.

Schneider and Liñam are living that gamble every weekend. They are competing under Sterling High School. They are part of a community that values tradition. They are part of a sport that is growing, slowly but surely, in areas that often feel left behind by the rest of the state.

The fun day at the complex is a celebration. It’s an end-of-season party for athletes and parents. It’s a chance to breathe. To relax. To see their kids succeed. But it’s also a statement. A statement that says these kids know what they’re doing. That they respect the weapon. That they are not just wild rural teens with shotguns. They are athletes. They are students. They are the future of rural Colorado.

And they are waiting for the next pull.