Clad in mesh vests and carrying shotguns, shooters mulled about the Scarborough Fish and Game Association grounds Friday, waiting for their chance to shoot some pigeons.

However, no living pigeons were actually in danger, the “pigeons” in this case were clay targets used as part of a trapshooting competition that dates back over a century.

Braving the heat, shooters did their best to stay cool while they waited their turn to shoot and hopefully hit 100 rounds of the orange pucks released from bunkered machines.

One man, attempting to cool down, found shade under his RV like a dog might on a sweltering day. However, the heat didn’t deter hundreds of shooters from facing off against round after round of fluorescent clay pigeons in the 116th Annual Maine State Trap Shoot championship hosted by the Maine Trapshooting Association.

The three-day competition, held July 14, 15 and 16, is the oldest continuous sporting event in the state, said Joe Hall, president of the association.

Originally an English sport started in the late 1700s, trapshooting has evolved over the years from shooting a live bird to metal birds or glass balls filled with feathers to the modern “clay pigeon.”

Some of the feather-filled glass balls, are still available on eBay for diehard trap shoot collectors, said Hall. “There’s somebody out there who collects everything,” he said.

Equipped with shells, earplugs and glasses with blinders, shooters stepped onto one of the nine fields hidden at the end of Fish and Game Lane off Beech Ridge Road in Scarborough to feel the exhilaration of shattering target after target. For many, the sport is somewhat of an addiction.

Cape Elizabeth resident Vince Conti was hooked after a golf buddy introduced him to the sport in 1995.

Conti, the chief executive officer of Maine Medical Center in Portland, said that it’s the social and competitive aspects of the sport that appeal to him. Unlike hunting in the woods, which can be a solitary venture, trapshooting is a powwow among friends.

The sport’s appeal attracts people from all walks of life as well, said Conti. He said he’s met everybody from plumbers to lawyers and nurses who like to shoot, including his friend Amy Douglass from Buxton, a nurse and co-worker at Maine Medical Center.

Douglass, like Conti, enjoys the camaraderie of the sport. At the shooting range, she’s found a nurturing group of people always encouraging her to improve. And constant improvement is the name of the game, because for a trapshooter, the only good score out of 100 is 100.

Hall, Douglass and Conti bemoan their scores even though they’re in the upper 90s. “The trick is just to get better,” said Conti.

Though the sport doesn’t require physical stamina, it is a game of hand-eye coordination requiring mental stamina to hit flying puck after flying puck.

Shooters relish the times when shell after shell shatters the orange targets in a haze of smoke, and pieces careen through the air in opposite directions. “That’s all between the ears,” said Conti, “that’s mental discipline.”

In preparation for a shot, the shooter stands planted firmly at least 16 yards away. The butt of the shotgun sits nestled just to the right of the armpit, into the crook between the collarbone and shoulder.

Once they are focused and still, the shooter calls “pull” into the voice-activated box standing in front of them. The targets are released from a trap house, a bunker of sorts, where a metal machine holds a reel of 540 clay pigeons.

Not knowing where the target will fly, the shooter follows it as it rises and crests. Just before it starts to fall, the shooter squeezes the trigger. And the rest is up to a good eye.

With each shooter firing at 100 targets, pieces of shattered targets litter the fields like confetti. But Hall said there is no worry about the debris from the clay targets. They are biodegradable and in two years time, there will be no evidence they were ever there.

Trapshooting, like any subculture, has its followers, who come from all over the country to participate.

Vermont native Bob Currier has attended Maine’s trap shoot for at least the last twenty years.

For Currier, like others, the trap shoot has slowly replaced animal hunting. Currier used to hunt ducks, squirrels, deer and other animals and though he always ate everything he killed, he lost the passion for the hunt. “I don’t like killing anymore,” he said.

The only thing 11-year old James Kazilionis hopes to kill during the competition is his brother’s confidence.

Kazilionis, from South Portland, started shooting trap just a few months ago. His primary objective is competing against his brother Gerald, who is three years older.

Kazilionis and his brother aren’t concerned about the other shooters in their category. In their minds, the only competition is each other. “The first one to miss a target loses,” said Kazilionis, describing the game he and his brother play.

Kazilionis is certain he is ready to take on his more experienced brother, whose been shooting for three years.

His brother reminded him that he already lost in the first round. “So, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not over yet,” he shot back. Kazilionis is learning that, in trap shooting, the next 100 rounds offers yet another chance for glory.