RealMen.

..
WearWomen’
sWader
s
Ifyour e
admyp ostt
itl
ed“ColdFeet…Lit
era
ll
y,”you’
llnot
iceIgota“gr
eatdea
l”onapair
ofwa ders
. Onl
ynowd oIknowth a
tthemanwh osol
dmet hewa de
rsl
aughedal
lthewayto
theb a
nk.Buth e’
sn ott
heonlyonelaughi
ngnow.Soaret
heg uysatDanBail
eyFlyFis
hing,
mos tofmyf ri
endswh ohavebeeninf
ormedandevenmywi fe.
An dyouwil
lbe,t
oo,I’
m
sure,i
fyo ureadthepostbe
low.
Yousee,
thewa dersIwass oldweredef
ecti
ve.I
’ms ur
etheguywh osol
dthemtomedi dn’t
knowthi
s,a st
heyh a
dn everbeenused,s
oId on’
tholdhimaccount
abl
efort
hat.Iusedth e
wader
sabo uthal
fad oz
ent imesandre
ali
zedtheywereleaki
ng.SoIcal
ledt
hema nufact
u r
e r
ofmywa ders,DanBail
ey ,andtomysurpri
se,t
heysaid,“
Sendthemonin.We’l
leith
e rfix
the
mors endyouan ewp a i
r.Ei
therway
,theywon’tl
e a
kwh enyougett
hemb a
ck .
”SoIdi d.
Itwaswhenane
wpairwer
eret
urne
dtomet
hatmyf
oll
yofpu
rcha
sewa
spo
int
edo
ut.
Inbi
g,
bold,
let
te
rsont
heout
si
deoft
hebox.

An
dont
hei
nvoi
ce.

An
dint
hede
scr
ipt
ionoft
hewa
der
sont
hei
nvo
ice
.

Here,exact
ly,i
swha tIsawontheboxwhenIope
nedthenondescri
pt,brownpaper
wrappi
ngt hewa de
rswe r
esenti
n:“
WOMEN’ SXLWADERS. ”Todr ivehomethepoi
nt
t
heywe r
e“ WOMEN’ SXLWADERS”t he
rewasevenacol
orpi c
tureo fade
fin
ite
lynot
“XL”woma no nthetopoft
heboxfi
shi
ngabeaut
if
ulstr
eamo utWe st
. Inwa
ders.
Jus
tlik
emi ne
.

Hu
h.

I
nte
res
ti
ng.
Click here for the Great American Outdoor Trails podcast
Attacked by an elephant! • truly wild quail • america's best bass lake

October 2010
 Sporting Classics
 – Celebrating Our Twenty-Ninth Year –

SPORTING CLASSICS
Volume XXIX • Issue 5 • Sept./oct. 2010
98

F E A T U R E S
MONSTERS FROM THE DEEP 38
This Aussie angler not only caught the largest fish ever, but five other
great whites each weighing more than a ton. By Mike Rivkin
In something less than five miles to the city limits, the
dogs found five coveys, one of which was bivouacked in
the front yard of a suburban friend. We did not shoot
that covey, since it involved firing through the windows

24
of the living room. By Robert Ruark

BROKEN DOWN AND SHOT OUT

LO, THE LONG BROWN RIDGES 86
Was it possible that he dreamed the huge deer into reality? By Edmund Ware Smith

RUSSET DREAMS 96
Each autumn the mysterious little migrants arrive to brighten our days afield.
By Ron Ellis

ABOVE AND BEYOND 98

170
Mountain-top hunting for birds and deer beckons sportsmen to this
luxurious Blue Ridge resort. By Bob McKinney

HOUNDED 106
A dying leopard can be the most dangerous. By Dr. Joseph C. Greenfield, Jr.

AUTUMN REFLECTIONS 110

Some of the best fishing and prettiest scenery lure autumn anglers to
High West trout streams. By Todd Tanner

THAT WYOMING MORNING 116

It was a great day to be alive. Unforgettable even, complete with a number of
magnificent pronghorn bucks. By Mike Gaddis

PINE CREEK SHOOT A’ROUND 120

Here’s a shooting retreat with all the attributes of a great golf club.
By John Steinbreder

A MILLION TO ONE 128

At Holloway & Naughton, fine guns are individually designed and built
“from scratch.” By Larry Chesney

TRENDSETTERS 170
The newest hunting rifles are all about accuracy and dependability.
By Ron Spomer
 S PO R T I N G CL A S S I C S V o l um e X X I X • I ssu e 5 • s e p t . / o c t . 2 0 1 0

32
COLUMNS
18 first light A man cannot afford to live so long. The price gets too heavy.
By Mike Gaddis

32 Legends of the Hunt The early safaris were lavish affairs that
often employed dozens of native helpers. By John Seerey-Lester

47 Tales to tell Few things in the outdoors are more fun than fishing
for frogs. By Michael McIntosh

53 Destinations A unique fly-fishing club has reserved miles of Colorado

streams for its members. By Michael Pearce

59 Ramblings The author and his little Brittany never asked perfection of
one another, only understanding. By Michael Altizer
189 63 shotgunS A sweet little Garbi 28 shines brightly, on the range and in
the field. By Robert Matthews

69 GUNDOGS The reasons are many why one sporting breed continues to be
our most popular. By Tom Davis

75 horizons Bringing your bird guns to Argentina is not for the harried,
hurried or faint of heart. By Roger Pinckney

83 Craftsmen You can own a piece of history with Sporting Classics’

30th Anniversary bow. By Matt Coffey

135 rifles Classy and classic . . . deadly and dependable . . . that’s Dakota rifles.
By Ron Spomer

141 Fishing Catching big “roosters” can make even the saltiest knees
wobble with excitement. By Paul Smith

150 Art & etc. Jules Bouillet came from a humble background to earn
widespread acclaim in wildlife art. By Lisa Metheny

159 Books The writings of Harry Middleton flow like the sparkling streams
he treasured all his life. By Jim Casada

D E PA R T M E N T S
12 This ’n That
153 Auctions & Exhibitions
189 The Traveling Sportsman
202 TOP SHELF
208 Quotes
202
C over
Looking for the Rabbit, painted by Arthur Davenport Fuller (1889-1966) in 1920,
is reproduced courtesy of Christie’s. Visit www.christies.com to explore multi-
media sales promotions, browse their illustrated catalogues and leave absentee
bids through LotFinder, their online search engine and register for internet
bidding with Christie’s Live.
 P U B L I S H E R & E D I TO R
Chuck Wechsler
C R E AT I V E D I R E C T O R
Ryan Stalvey
M a n a g i n g E ditor
Matt Coffey
E ditor - at- L ar g e
James Casada

S E N I O R E D I TO R S
L l o y d N e w b e r ry Ron Spomer
Michael McIntosh Todd Tanner
T o m D av i s Roger Pinckney
Mike Gaddis J o h n R o ss
Bob McKinney Bill Headrick
C.S. C u s h i n g L a r ry C h e s n e y
M i c h a e l A lt i z e r R o b e rt M at t h e ws

CO LU M N I S T S
S usan E bert A woma n ' s place
R obert K. A bbett A bbett o n A rt
J im C asada B O O K S
M ike G addis F I R S T L I G H T
P aul Q uinnett F I S H I N G
T odd T anner F ly F ishi n g
T om D avis G U N D O G S
R oger P inckney H O R I Z O N S
J ohn S eerey -L ester LEGENDS OF THE HUNT
M ichael A ltizer RAMBLINGS
R on S pomer R I F L E S
R obert M atthews S H OTG U N S
J ameson P arker S P O R T I NG  L I F E
M ichael M c I ntosh Tales to tell
J ohn R oss T R AV E L
G ayne Y oung Young Outdoors

A S S O C I AT E P U B L I S H E R
Mike Gaddis
A D V E R T I S I NG  C O O R D I N A T O R
Debbie S. Moak
A C C O U N T I NG  M A N A G E R
Lee Anne Futrell
Customer Relations Director
Bill Jackson
C I R C U L AT I O N M A N A G E R s
Debbie S. Moak Laura Wilhelm

A D V E R T I S I NG D I R E C T O R
Brian Raley
1-800-849-1004; 1-803-736-2424

N A T I O N A L A D V E R T I S I NG
S usan B ernard /B ernard & A ssociates
767 M ill S t ., R eno , NV 89502
775-323-6828; F ax : 775-323-8114

CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER

Duncan Grant

PO B o x 2 3 7 0 7
Columbia, S.C. 29224
800-849-1004 • 803-736-2424
www . s p o r t i n g c l a ss i cs . c o m
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
10
 This ’N Tha t
YOUR COMPLIMENTARY
COPY OF RING OF FREEDOM
Enclosed with this issue of
Sporting Classics, you will find a free
and exclusive gift from the National
Rifle Association: their September/
October Ring of Freedom magazine.
Printed quarterly, with a digital
edition updated monthly, Ring of
Freedom profiles those Second
Amendment defenders who have
answered freedom’s call and made
outstanding financial contributions
to preserve gun rights and our
hunting and shooting heritage. The
NRA recognizes these individuals
through its Ring of Freedom
donor recognition society. Their
stories, and the impact of their
contributions, are chronicled in
each issue of the magazine.
This special edition features profiles
of Ring of Freedom members Ugo and
Monique Beretta of the Beretta
Holding Group and Larry and Brenda
Potterfield of MidwayUSA. It will also
take you on a trip to Africa, where
Ring of Freedom member Michael
Luzich embarked on the safari of a
lifetime as a result of an auction-
winning bid at the 2009 NRA Annual
Meetings, and to Hungary, where a
group of donors enjoyed a unique
ladies-only roebuck and wild boar
hunt. Future issues will continue to
profile the passions and pursuits of the
Second Amendment’s foremost
defenders, while also detailing the
important work made possible by
their contributions to the NRA.
“It’s been my privilege to know each
of these individuals as friends and
tireless allies of the NRA’s effort to
protect the Second Amendment,” said
Wayne LaPierre, NRA’s executive vice
denver bryan
Amillions
merican sportsmen are shelling out
just to head home with a
trophy mule deer.
S P O R T I N G
13
By The Editors
president. “I’ve learned from experience
the differences a motivated individual
can make when the cause is just and
the need is great.
“Many times in the past, our success
or failure hinged upon the individual
effort and contributions of someone
who felt the need to step forward in a
time of crisis,” LaPierre added. “And
because they decided to take that first
step, the NRA is still in the thick of the
fight to protect your gun rights and
hunting and shooting heritage.”
Through this Ring of Freedom
edition, Sporting Classics readers will
receive a special invitation from
Wayne LaPierre to “Join the Ring”
and learn how they can receive their
own ongoing digital subscription.
MULE DEER TAGS
RAISE BIG MONEY
Big mule deer have become the
most coveted trophies in the U.S.
If you don’t believe it, consider
this: Last year the Mule Deer
Foundation raised more than
$1.84 million in its raffles and auctions
for 129 tags. The coveted tags
were offered at MDF’s National
Convention in Salt Lake City and
local banquets nationwide.
The MDF, in partnership with 11
state wildlife agencies and the Jicarilla
tribe, sell big-game hunting tags to
provide much-needed funds for the
management of mule deer and black-
tailed deer, elk, bison, antelope, turkey
and other game species. More than
93 percent of the money raised either
goes back to state wildlife agencies
for management programs or is spent
on habitat projects. Beginning in
November, MDF will once again
be selling auction and raffle tags at
its fundraising events. If you are
interested in bidding on a tag or buying
a raffle ticket, log on to www.muledeer.
org for event dates and locations.
C L A S S I C S
SOTHEBY’S SELLS GUN
SET FOR $350,000
A set of six Holland & Holland Royal de Luxe side-by-
side shotguns were sold by international auction house
Sotheby’s in Charlottesville, Virginia, in June for
$350,500. Known as The Wildfowl and Wader Set, the
guns were built by H&H in 1983 to commemorate the
75th Anniversary of the founding in 1908 of the
Wildfowlers’ Association of Great Britain and Ireland.
Some of the proceeds of the original sale were applied to
the conservation organization familiarly know as WAGBI.
Executed by H&H chief engraver Ken Preater on designs by
prominent wildlife artist Rodger McPhail, the original drawings
were mounted in leather and included in a folio placed
inside an Asprey display cabinet that accompanies the guns.
The set, which has consecutive serial numbers, is comprised
of a 12 gauge with 29-inch barrels, a pair of 12s with 28-inch
barrels, a pair of 20s with 27-inch barrels and a single 28-
bore with 26-inch barrels. All are discreetly inlaid with red
and white gold, and the waterfowl featured run the gamut
from the prosaic to the exotic. They include mallards,
American widgeon, canvasbacks, mandarin and shell ducks
as well as Hawaiian nene geese, goosanders and smew. Even
some of internal parts are engraved with water plants
associated with the habitat of the waterfowl species
represented. – Douglas Tate.

NEW FUNDING FOR

PRIVATE LAND ACCESS
The Department of Agriculture has announced plans
to release $50 million in funding to help improve
public hunting access and habitat restoration on
private lands.
Open Fields, which is part of the Voluntary Public Access
and Habitat Incentive Program, encourages landowners to
provide public access to their property. The money is
awarded to states that meet criteria through a grant process
and is then passed on to participating landowners.
Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack made the funding
announcement during a recent press conference.
“This program provides better conservation on
private lands, and you have to give landowners an
incentive to participate,” Vilsack said.
“First and foremost, this program compliments
conservation programs. The second priority is to give rural
communities the ability to generate dollars through the
purchase of goods and services that outdoorsmen pay for.
Third, and I think this is something that’s often understated,
is rural values. We need to raise a generation that
understands and appreciates that you can’t continually take
from Mother Nature, you have to give something back. And
when you do, Mother Nature responds in great way.”
Grants will be awarded beginning in September.

Tguns
his 12-bore was one of six Holland & Holland Royal de Luxe
that together brought $350,500 at a Sotheby’s auction.
3P - OPENED
 IN LESS THAN SEVEN SECONDS
YOUR LIFE WILL CHANGE FOREVER.
And then, how sublime it will all become.
You’ve dreamed of this moment for years.
Remember all the hunting stories you read as a kid?
Remember how hard you’ve worked for this?
Remember how you once thought
this moment may never come, and that
you might never have the opportunity
standing before you right here, right now?
You have less than seven seconds.
And then he’ll be gone. It’s okay.
You can do it. You can make this shot.
It’s all up to you now, the memories you’ll carry,
the stories you’ll tell. But then again, maybe you’ll just
keep them to yourself. After all, it’s not going to be easy
putting into words what you’re feeling at this very moment.
You can do it. Take your time . . . just exhale.
And squeeze.

The Lodge and Ranch at

CHAMA
LAND & CATTLE COMPANY

CHAMA, NEW MEXICO

575-756-2133
email: reservations@lodgeatchama.com
www.lodgeatchama.com
 There are more imporTanT Things Than deer hunTing.
JusT noT during deer season.

Powered By

)LJH\ZL;OLYL»Z4VYL[V[OL/\U[;OHU;OL2PSS
;OL:HUJ[\HY`‹ [O(]L‹:[HU^VVK4PJOPNHU ‹ ‹^^^ZHUJ[\HY`YHUJOJVT
SHOOTING/HUNTING
JUST A CLICK AWAY
In today’s world, wanting to do
something and then actually doing it
is typically influenced by opportunity,
time, cost and convenience.
Recreational shooting is no
exception, so the National
Shooting Sports Foundation
provides a number of features
on its Web site to help you find
exactly what you’re looking for.
One of the most valuable
aspects of the NSSF’s offerings is
www.wheretoshoot.org. Through
the comprehensive “Find a
Range” menu item, you can see a
listing of shooting facilities in the
U.S. and Canada by area code,
zip code or distance from a
location. If you need instruction,
want to rent a firearm, or are
looking for a facility that offers
youth or women’s programs, you
can get a list of facilities that
meet your criteria. You can also
go directly to a range’s Web site
to find hours of operation, fees
and contact information.
The “Shooting” link on the NSSF’s
Web site lists the type of shooting-
and hunting-related opportunities
offered in your state. A team of
outdoor writers track and update
the site regularly.
The NSSF is currently updating
its listings at www.wheretoshoot.org
and is seeking to include any
ranges not currently listed. If you
belong to a club or shoot at a
commercial or public facility, check
the site to see if yours is listed. If it
is, double-check it for accuracy and
update as needed. If a club or
range doesn’t appear, and you’d
like to add it to the database of the
more than 6,500 facilities, click on
“List Your Range” near the top of
the page. And, if you know of
shooting and hunting opportunities
and events in your state, contact
the correspondent for the
appropriate state.
For more information and to check
out everything the NSSF has to offer
shooters and hunters, visit www.nssf.org.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
17
 Fir st L i ght
It was grandmother who
said that we live our lives
between a laugh and a tear.
But she didn’t say how
small would become the
margin that lies in between.
S P
A man can’t afford to live
but so long. The price
gets too heavy.
I suppose it’s the toll
we pay for the gift . . . and the
curse . . . of conscience. The
ability to perceive tomorrow,
and to remember yesterday. The
perception of present and past. The
cognizance of joy and melancholy.
The fragility of life, and the certainty
of death. The velocity of time and
the weight of eternity.
Being human may not be all the
blessing we’re born believing it to
be. Along with the intellect comes a
fearful load. It grows with the years
O R T I N G C L A S
18
By Mike Gaddis
and can never be unshouldered.
A man can escape a lot of things,
but never himself.
Truth is, in the ecological
world at large, a man can pretend
arrogance only with his own kind.
Nobody else cares. Sooner or
later, a man is left to find he must
suffer on his own. Unless he is
totally insensitive to life and living,
the cost of love and loss carries
ultimately beyond his pretenses
and layers heavily upon his heart.
The older I get, and the
more time I’ve spent wild, the
more I’m brought to believe
that maybe it’s the rest of the
S I C S
creatures in the kingdom that
God loved best. So that He didn’t
saddle them with too much
memory, or curse them more
than temporarily with the sense
of loss, or see fit to constantly
remind them with a chronograph
or a calendar on the wall, of how
much of life they have left to live.
Rather, He left them to fare
within the moment, to worry
only of the perils of the present,
to accept and appreciate living
as a spontaneity of unordained
incidents. The sun rises and the
sun sets, slumber is unblemished
by nightmares, and tomorrow,
S P
and the tomorrow after, is
unburdened by anything beyond
what’s ultimately important . . .
the necessity of survival.
Ironically, within an existence
of such unencumbered simplicity,
the “lower” species have come to
epitomize almost every value we
hold of greatest esteem: heart,
courage, resourcefulness, tenacity,
fearlessness, devotion, fidelity.
Yes, their lives are often
abbreviated, and they spend their
entire existence in the tiny corner
of the world they were born in.
But the life they live is free of
sorrow, and without the baggage
O R T I N G C L A S
19
sunday morning by lanford monroe – courtesy chipper thompson
of tortured emotion.
Would I trade? Give up the joys
of anticipation, sacrifice all the
beautiful memories, all the pictures
of the past a happy heart takes?
Would I barter away the adventures
of imagination, bargain away the
ability to conjure a dream?
Comes square down to it, I
guess not. But I’m not so damn
cocksure and proud about it as
maybe once I was.
The one thing I do know is
that I don’t want to live forever.
There’s not enough of me left to
sustain that. I figure about 15,
20 years more, if I’m lucky, and
S I C S
I’ll be just about spent. Ready to go.
With everything and everybody I’ve
lost, I’ve buried a bit of me. Each time,
I’m a little less than I started with.
There’s another increment of sorrow
to laden any given moment of joy.
Old folks, on the days they were
down, not long before they would go,
back when I was young and careless
and would ask them why . . . would look
off across the green meadows for a time
and say, “I’m old, Boy, old and tired.”
I always thought physically, cause
they were stooped and wrinkled.
Couldn’t do the things once they
could. But that wasn’t the most of
it. Now that I’m old, and a mite
wrinkly too, I know better.
I’ve been a spite out of sorts with
myself lately, and I’ve tried hard to
figure out just why. Cause all my life
I’ve been a more-than-willing man.
It’s just that, more now, some days
aren’t as happy as others. It’s taken me
67 years, but now I think I’ve come to
a thing I wish I hadn’t.
Happiness is of the moment, and
sadness accrues. Sadness is like the
moss that grows on the north side of
an evergreen. It thickens through the
years, latches on and grows, until one
day the tree isn’t so green anymore.
If that looms the secret of life,
I’m almighty glad I didn’t discover
it any sooner.
The bouts of sadness stage closer
now it seems.
Too many folks, too many dogs,
too many things that are the same
as heart and home, are gone. Each
layered another little chasm of
loneliness, that nothing or nobody
else can fill. Each kept a part of me
I can never have back again.
I look down the narrowing road,
and can see too many more to come.
In the greening beauty of each new
spring I can find again an Old Granpa
Graybeard in a white ash tree, but I can’t
have back the softness of my mother’s
eyes, when I was seven years old, and first
she gave him to me. I have a Christmas
tree each December, but I can’t have
back my father’s pride, the year I found
the Winchester 20 gauge under the one
Mama decorated, when I was 13 and
Daddy let me know I was coming a man.
I’ve killed a book whitetail, and I’ve
killed a brown bear, a Cape buffalo and
a kudu, but I can’t recover the exact
same feeling I had with the Old Man
who took me under wing when I was
16, showed me how, and stood silently
beside me as I beamed over my first
forkhorn. Or the completion we shared
when he stood again in the shadow of
an oak tree, when of my own, I weighed
in my first ten-pound largemouth on
the old Chantilly cradle scales behind
the boathouse of City Lake #4.
I’ve had dogs since, and I’ll have dogs
more, and it’s all been good . . . and if I
was a-mind to, I could whelp another
litter of pups in a lot better digs than
once we did. But I can never have again
the absolute joy and exhilaration of that
first litter of setters we whelped, Loretta
and I, in that two-by-twice, little, two-
bitty shed in the backyard 40 years ago.
Nor can I ever rein up my horse again at
the gap of the finish at Rappahannock,
no matter how many dogs I field,
and feel the same exultation I did as
I watched one of those same pups, in
her prime – the greatest field trial dog
of my life – top the far distant hill, two
valleys over, carrying on and away.
She’s pointed Up There,
somewhere. I know. Waiting for
 me to come move her birds. I want
someday sooner, now, to do so.
I’ve still got a few good friends,
Thank God, but I can’t have back
again the ones I shared many a rod
or gun with, whose handshake would
turn into an embrace come end of the
day . . . who as Stonewall Jackson said,
“have crossed the river, to rest in the
shade of the trees on the other side.”
I try to be a boy again. Go squirrel
hunting with the same little rifle I
grew up on. But I can’t have back the
man who helped steady it against my
shoulder when I was six, the same
one who told me in his 70s, while he
was dying of Parkinson’s disease and a
host of other ills, just before he willed
his way on to join my Aunt . . . not a
thing on God’s earth I could do to stop
it . . . “Bout everything I had is gone,
Jughead, and I ain’t never gonna have
enough else. I’ve fished my last creek
and treed my last squirrel.”
The bill of burden weighs on.
Sum of it is, I can’t have back the
lot of myself that was me. I can’t
have back all the full-of-myself days
when I was younger, and stronger,
and quicker, and could do the things
better that I can’t anymore. I can’t
have back yesterday, and there’s a
hell less assurance on tomorrow.
As painful as it is to admit it, I’m a
lot older, and a little bit tired.
I’m not broke yet. I’ve still got some
hope in my poke. And I’ll spend it
both foolishly and wisely – like I always
have – long as I can go the way.
But the circle goes unbroken. Things
keep spinning back. My grandmother,
when one day as a little man, I cried,
when some small something happened
and I tried so hard not too. She pulled
me to her side, dabbed away the tears
with her apron hem, said,
“One minute we smile. In
another, we cry. We live our lives
between a laugh and a tear.”
I think, now, it was out of
kindness . . . she didn’t tell me,
also . . . how small would become
the margin that lies between.

Editor’s Note: Lanford Monroe’s

painting on pages xx-xx is among
130 works in our acclaimed book,
Homefields. We still have a few Deluxe
edition copies of Homefields, each
signed by the author, at the reduced
price of $100. Call 800-849-1004.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
22
 Broken Down and
shot out
T
When the Tin Liz breaks down five miles from home,
the Old Man and the Boy discover a new way of bird-hunting. –
Robert Ruark
A classic from the September, 1956 issue of Field & Stream.
by
he Tin Liz sighed, sank on her haunches,
sighed again and expired. The Old Man got
out and looked at her innards suspiciously,
crouched down to peer at her lower parts,
thumped her a couple of times, like you’d tap a melon
to see if it was ripe, and then shrugged his shoulders.
He had the yellow, red-headed kitchen match shoved
into his pipe before he spoke. He got the pipe going and
poked the stem at the rusty old car.
“Clearly a case of death due to old age,” he said. “Far
as I can figure, she’s burnt her bearings, the piston rings
are gone, the spring’s bested, the gas pump is clogged,
the brake linings are burnt out, the axle’s sprung, the
electric system’s finished, and I think somebody forgot
to put the crank in. We might as well shoot her, like a
foundered horse. We are plumb forgot and five miles
from home. What do you suggest?”
“I guess we better pick up the guns and leash the
dogs and go back,” I said. “We can maybe hitch a ride,
and then we can go to Gus McNeill’s filling station and
get him to send somebody out to pick her up and tow
her in.”
The Old Man snarled slightly, the wind riffling his
mustache. He gazed at nothing in particular.
“Now there is my brave pioneer lad, my young Dan’l
Boone, the Kit Carson of tomorrow.” His voiced lifted
in a sissified tone. “We can maybe hitch a ride, and then
we can go to Gus McNeill’s filling station and get him to
send somebody out to pick her up and tow her in.”
The Old Man spat. “And this is the one that’s going to
S P O R T I N G
25
shoot lions and elephants. What do you think the dogs
will think of us if we hitchhike our way back to a filling
station” – he sarcastically accented the words – “if we
don’t give the dogs something to do to earn their keep.”
“Well, sir,” I said, “it’s a good six or eight miles to
where we were headed. You going to walk all that
way and then hunt all day, and then walk thirteen
miles home?”
“I don’t see why not,” the Old Man said cheerfully.
“Old and ugly and sick as I am, I recon I can keep
pace with any product of the machine age whose legs
are so atrophied he needs transportation to go to the
store for a box of gingersnaps. And who ever said we
had to hunt thataway?”
“Well, there’s no birds around here,” I said.
“Look at it. Broom grass. Scrubby oak. Cut-down
pine. Sparkleberry bushes. Gallberry bushes. Some
chinquapin. And right on the highway. Nobody hunts
here. It’s been shot out.”
Himself snorted. “Shot out, is it now? And why
would it be shot out, me darlin’ lad?” The Irish used
to come out of him when he was treading heavy on
the sarcasm. “Me gay brothy boy, tell why it’d be shot
out, as so ye say.”
“Too close to town. Too easy to get at. Too many cars
stopping along to let the dogs loose and burn down the
coveys. Too many turpentine camps and brush fires.”
“That’s better than I thought you’d do,” the Old
Man said. “You’re right in all you say except in just one
thing – the land has had a rest, and the birds have had
C L A S S I C S
a rest with it. There’s no land on the face of the earth
that doesn’t need a rest, whether you’re growing crops
or birds or animals.
“The automobile is the curse of civilization, especially
for the wildlife that lives by the side of the road, because
any idiot can park his car by a field and, like you say,
turn loose the dogs and slaughter a covey and be off
with himself before the farmer that owns the fringes
finds he’s shot a cow and two suckling pigs as well. The
to walk five miles or drive in a buggy for half a day
to get where you were going before you could hunt,
appreciated what you were hunting, and took some
care of it – which,” he emphasized, “had something
to do with assuring the farmer you wouldn’t kill his
best brood sow the first time she came at you out
of a cornfield. You kind of watched out for your
cigarette butt and matches, and tried not to burn
his hayfields down, and you might also stop off

“How many birds would you say

hit-and-run at the house and give him
hunter doesn’t a couple brace of birds. In

were in that covey,” I asked.

care about return for which he might
conserving the tell you where he had some

“Less than a hundred thousand,”

stuff for next turkeys more or less baited,

the Old Man replied.

year and for all and ask you to spend the
the next years.” night so’s you could shoot
The Old Man one the next morning. But
spat. “If one the automobile has ruined it.
of these car- You can go a hundred miles
without-permission hunters found a covey running down in three hours, and shoot half the way along.”
a corn row, he’d shoot it all on the ground, and probably The Old Man glanced at the stricken car. “Look at
sell the birds to boot.” that hunk of tin tragedy,” he said. “We are marooned
I didn’t say anything. I went and let the dogs loose to as much as if we had just been cast ashore on a desert
life their legs, got the guns in their cases, the thermos island. Henry Ford made it. All the knowledge of
bottle and prepared to march. mankind is in it, and look at it. As useless as a busted
The Old Man started off again. “When you had buggy with a dead mule in the shafts.”

SCIROCCO II®
.308-180 Grain | 2.5x expansion
TERMINAL PERFORMANCE

A-FRAME®
.308-180 Grain | 2.2x expansion

Swift bullets are the best hunting bullets made!

For twenty five years, Swift Bullet Company’s innovative designs and construction have led
the way in bonded core hunting bullet technology. Whether you choose Swift A-Frame®
or Scirocco®, with the sign a ture black polymer tip, you get terminal performance
without equal and excellent accuracy. A-Frame® and Scirocco® bullets provide the best
performance for hunting any game species anywhere in the world.
W
e started to walk down the road, heading
home. The dogs had been circling,
quartering and stopping as dogs will
to carve their personal initials on the
likelier-looking bushes. All of a sudden I saw a patch
of white where the liver-and-white setter, Sandy, had
headed into bush. It refused to move, this white patch.
I said to the Old Man, “Either Sandy’s froze stiff, or
he’s found a covey of birds. Look yonder.”
The Old Man snorted again. “Couldn’t be birds. This
place is shot out. I got it on the best authority. Probably
nothing but field larks. Sandy had a hot nose when I
turned him loose this morning. Better unlimber the guns,
though. Probably a rattler or a horse terrapin. Couldn’t be
any birds along here. Too public. Where’s the shell bag?”
I was in a fever when I opened the cowhide cases and
started to fit the guns. Maybe you remember, the Old
Man had a real peculiarity about guns. He wouldn’t use
one of those cases that took a whole gun. He said a broken
gun never killed anybody, and he wouldn’t ride in a car
with a gun that was all in one piece. While I was fumbling
the guns together – and you can get the Old Man wasn’t
helping me any – I kept one eye on that patch of white
showing through the dark green of the gallberries, and it
never looked like moving.
Bullets without equal.
With shaky fingers I handed the Old Man a fitted-
together shotgun and half a box of shells, and dropped the
other half into my canvas hunting coat. We loaded as we
walked up to the patch of white, and there was old Sandy,
as stark as a statue, and old Frank, looking like a twin to a
burnt stump, just behind him.
“I don’t think this would be larks,” the Old Man murmured.
“Or a rattlesnake. Or a terrapin. Let’s us go see.”
We walked up to the dogs, walked past, scuffed
the twisted low-broom, and what amounted to two
million birds got up. I fired into the middle of the two
million and saw nothing fall. The Old Man unleashed
his ancient weapon, too, although I never heard it.
I looked at him and he looked at me. I shrugged my
shoulders and he shrugged his.
“Must have been snakes,” he said. “But have you got
any idea where the single snakes went?”
“They looked like they were going down either
into that patch of broom or off into those little
scrubby oaks,” I said. “How many birds would you
say were in that covey?”
“Less than a hundred thousand,” the Old Man
replied, putting fresh shells in his gun. “Twenty-five
at least. Looked like old birds, too. Let’s go see if the
dogs can smell singles.”
We went to where the singles seemed to have lit, and
84%+
Wt.Ret.
.704
dia.
3300+ fps.
95%+
Wt.Ret.
.670
dia.
 Legendary Performance!
The Russell High Country Hunter is
Worn By More Serious Big Game
Hunters Than Any Other Boot
In 1986 one of our employees went on a tough
Idaho elk hunt. He didn't get an elk but learned a
lot about elk hunting. Notably, that the Russell
boots he wore on the hunt were not up to the task.
We listened to the problems he experienced and
designed a new boot.
The Russell High Country Hunter was tested the
following spring...becoming what is now widely
recognized as the perfect high country hunting boot.
The High County Hunter was designed a bit taller
at 12” and was fitted with a comfortable cushion
collar top that forms a seal around the calf to
prevent water from entering the boot when fording
streams.
Made from waterproof WeatherTuff™ Leather, it features triple vamp moccasin construction and a
hand molded wrap around outer sole for waterproofness, comfort and foot support. Idaho Air Bob
soles were mated with a thick shock absorbing wedge midsole to ease knee fatigue. The sure footed
Air Bob sole, featuring an outside cleat pattern, allows you to safely and comfortably traverse bunch
grass, scree and rocky hillsides--assuring that you stay upright and literally stick to the mountain.
Sturdy heel counters that prevent heel and ankle rollover in extreme sidehilling conditions are
standard. Plus the High Country Hunter has a real heel to firmly anchor you when descending steep
hillsides.
When hunting the high country, when one slip can
end your hunt...it's comforting to know that you
have the world's best “foundation” under foot.
Check out the customer testimonials on our web site.
They tell it all!
P.O. Box 309 • 285 S.W. Franklin
Berlin, WI 54923 www.russellmoccasin.com
920-361-2252 Fax: 920-361-3274
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I
28
they stuck fast as glue. It was one
of the few times we ever overshot
a quota, but it seemed in the Old
Man’s logic that a covey of 25 or 30
birds could spare eight, and eight
was what we shot.
“Just like,” the Old Man said
sternly, popping the proceeds of a
neat double into his coat, “all the
other roadside hunters. Game hogs.”
W
e walked along the
road and waved
the dogs from one
side to the other.
In something less than five miles to
the city limits, the dogs found five
coveys, one of which was bivouacked
in the front yard of a suburban
friend. We did not shoot that covey,
since it involved firing through the
windows of the living room.
But we shot sufficient birds to
have a heavy-hanging hunting coat
by the time we approached the
general vicinity of Gus McNeill’s
filling station. I would like to tamper
with the truth a little and say we
filled our limit just abaft the gas
pumps, but I cannot tell a lie. There
were no birds in the vicinity, only
Gus and a few shiftless friends.
“Where you-all been?” Gus
asked as we trudged down the
road, the dogs leashed again, both
of us carrying a sheathed gun.
“Huntin’, the Old Man said dryly.
“Huntin’ what?” Gus asked.
“Birds.”
“Get any?”
“Some.”
“Where’s your car?”
“Back yonder apiece.”
“How far?”
“About five mile.”
“How many birds?”
“Twenty, more or less.”
“The car broke down?”
“Yep. Can you send somebody
to tow her home?”
“Sure. Where’d you get the
birds? They’ve been kinda
scarce lately.”
“Oh, we hunted up ’way ahead of
the car. I got a couple of farms the
folks let me use from time to time.
C S
 You know the way it is.”
The Old Man slipped me a wink.
Gus was a shotgun man, too.
“You want to use the car tonight, or
will tomorrow be okay?” Gus inquired.
“Tomorrow’ll do,” the Old Man
said. “But we would appreciate it if
you’d give us a lift home now. My
feet are killing me from pounding
all this asphalt. Seems to me walking
was easier when we had clay roads.
At least they fit my feet better.”
We drove home and Gus let us
out. I took the dogs to pen and
came back to take the guns off
the front porch to clean them,
and then went back to where the
Old Man had a rather massive
pile of quail on the back steps.
“Some farms that folks let me
use. Do not tell a lie,” I said
reprovingly. “Never tell a lie.
It says so in Sunday School.”
The Old Man was counting the
little beautiful bobwhites. “Twenty-
two,” he announced happily. “All
out of a shot-out area. Now, what
did I tell you about the curse of the
machine age? If that Liz had held
together, we would of run right past
the birds, and probably come home
with nothing. The auto is the curse of
the hunting man. And just think all
we had to do was walk down a road.”
“Do not tell a lie, like Miss Lottie
says,” I said sternly, for me.
“Miss Lottie be blowed,” the Old
Man said, still happy. “She never
knew anything about quail hunting
or game conservation. We are game
conservationists, protecting the
national resources from tourists. We
are protecting them for ourselves,
which is conservation of a sort, even
if it’s selfish.”
“I suppose I’d better start
cleaning them, like always,” I said.
“Tonight, I’ll help you,” the
Old Man said, and I’d like to
have dropped dead from shock. –
Yr. Ob’t Sv’t Bob Ruark

© 1954 by Robert Ruark, renewed

1982 by the estate of Robert Ruark.
Permission to reprint granted by
Harold Matson Co., Inc.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
30
 egends
L of the Hunt
By John Seerey-Lester

Involving dozens of porters and other

native helpers, the early safaris were
lavish affairs that only the wealthiest
sportsmen could afford.
T he safari began as an East
African phenomenon. The
word itself has an Arabic
origin – safariya (a journey or
expedition) – and from this came the
Swahili synonym, safari.
The first safaris were undertaken
African continent. These huge
caravans carried such prized
commodities as elephant ivory, rhino
horn and, of course, slaves destined
for Arabian, East Indian and
Chinese markets.
The grisly slave-trading era ended
B litz depicts one of these unexpected
events that became all-too-familiar to
early safari-goers. Indeed, even today
dramas such as this are being played out
in camps throughout the wilds of Africa.

establish a protectorate and better

by Arab traders in the 18th century when the British cut a deal with the manage the land-grabbing that was
when their caravans crisscrossed the Sultan of Zanzibar in 1890 to rampant in the region.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
33
 In 1896 the British took control British or German East Africa goods and services quickly added up to
of the protectorate and laid the ranged from $300 to $500 per an expensive adventure, one that only
groundwork for a different kind of month, excluding the white the wealthy could afford.
safari. That led to a new era in which hunter’s fee. Food for the safari Sportsmen were encouraged to
the great hunting legends would was selected by the client and use one of the established safari
emerge and a new kind of safari would would be brought in boxes, usually companies, such as N&T, but some
come of age. Through the expeditions from the Army and Navy stores in of the more adventurous hunters
of European hunters such as Frederic London. Ammunition was another organized their own. There were a
Courteney Selous, William Cornwallis added expense and a hunting limited number of merchants in
Harris and A. Blayeny Percival the first license would cost $250. Nairobi at the time, but a sportsman
seeds of conservation ethic were sown. The British imposed a ten percent could get his khaki shooting clothes
The safari became the ultimate customs charge on all items brought made to measure in a couple of
adventure and was romanticized by into the protectorate. Altogether, these days. The more essential items for
a multitude of writers, among them
Rudyard Kipling and years later,
Ernest Hemingway. But it was
perhaps the writing of famous big
game hunters such as Selous in his
1881 book, A Hunter’s Wanderings
in Africa, which inspired many
British and European sportsmen to
discover Africa.

T he safari as we know it today

began just before the turn of the
19th century, but it wasn’t until
1904 that it became an organized
and commercial enterprise.
Messers. Newland & Tarlton (N&T)
and the Boma Outfitting Company
were the most prominent organizers of
early safaris. Their clients would travel
by ship to the ancient coastal city of
Mombasa, then journey by train to the
then-frontier town of Nairobi, British
East Africa. After getting organized at
the newly opened Norfolk Hotel and
picking up some last-minute items
from local merchants, they headed out
into the bush on foot, horse and oxen
wagon to great fanfare. British and
European sportsmen soon realized
that Africa was a finite resource and
arrived in droves to take advantage of
hunting this pristine land.
Depending on the client’s budget,
it was recommended that the average
safari would need a minimum of
30 pagazi (porters) per sportsman,
one neapara (headman), one m’pishi
(cook), one tent boy, one gunbearer,
two askaris (soldiers) and, of course,
a professional white hunter. If the
hunters were on horseback, then they
would also need a syce (horse groom).
In 1909 the cost of a safari in
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
35
 the expedition had to be brought in
at great expense from England,
Europe or America.
Sportsmen were advised to bring
two pair of hobnail boots and extra
nails for long safaris of several months
or more. Puttees, or leggings, were
recommended as were lightweight
mosquito boots to wear at night.
Saddles and bridles had to brought
in, along with most of the camping
equipment. At the time, Edgingtons
of Duke Street in London was
regarded as the supplier of the finest
tropical green tents made from
Egyptian cotton. The most popular
size was 9- x 8- x 7 ½-foot. Safari-
goers had to ship camp tables, canvas
chairs and washbasins, their brown
Jaeger blankets, hair mattresses,
cots and pillows, and the ubiquitous
hotwater bottles for chilly evenings.
For the very discerning sportsman,
it was essential to have caviar and
the finest champagne along with
silverware, crystal and china.
All safari supplies had to be carried
by the pagazi (a limit of 60 pounds
per man), so careful organization and
packing were necessary. The massive
caravans moved slowly over the
Dark Continent’s difficult and varied
terrain, but that mattered little
because the sportsmen soon realized
they’d arrived in a land unsurpassed
for hunting big game.

LEGENDS OF THE HUNT

This tale is among some 80 true-
life stories in John Seerey-Lester’s book,
Legends of the Hunt. In more than
100 paintings and a fascinating text, the
artist relives the adventures of the
greatest early explorers and hunters.
The big, 11x12 ½-inch, 200-page
book is available in three editions:
• Trade – Hardbound, $60.
• Elephant Edition – 950 leather-
bound, signed & numbered copies,
each with a special print, $150.
• Lion Edition – 520 leather-bound,
signed and numbered books, each with
a hand-colored giclee print, $250.
To order, call (800) 849-1004 or
visit www.SportingClassics.com.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
36
 F

S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
38
From the Deep
monsters
No other world record comes even close to Alf Dean’s great white shark.

L
by Mike Rivkin
But it’s the one that got away that captivated him the most.

et’s face it. You have to be

a more than a little nuts to
fish for 2,000-pound white
sharks with rod and reel.
The whole idea sounds insane,
rather like diving the Marianas
Trench with mask and flippers or
D espite the white shark’s fearsome reputation as a
man-eater, it’s in fact rather less impressive when
hooked on sporting tackle. As a result, relatively
few anglers have ever pursued the species with
much vigor. For his part, Alf Dean did not take up big-game
fishing until after WWII when he was already middle aged.
Dean’s father was a legendary Aussie bushman who studied
hunting Siberian tigers with and emulated the techniques
a squirt gun. Aficionados of of local Aborigines. Alf grew
the sport must be folks with up hunting and fishing, even
histories of irrational behavior: keeping a gun in his locker
former test pilots, say, or at school so he could shoot
retired WWF champions. ducks and rabbits after class.
Putting aside for a moment Once, when nabbed by an
the preposterous assumption understanding warden with
that fish the size of trolley a brace of out-of-season
cars really can be battled into ducks, he was released after
submission on wispy lines, pleading that he’d only fired
what do you do with the in self-defense after being
damn things once they’re attacked by the berserk
alongside the boat? Take waterfowl. Clearly, this
a picture and hope they was a young man bound
don’t respond by killing you for shark-fishing greatness.
and everyone you know? A citrus farmer and
Put on a feed for the city horticulturist by trade, Dean
of Cleveland? There was a burly fellow with
are definitely some piercing eyes, protruding
issues with the sport, ears, a square chin and a
but years ago it had nice head of sandy hair
its enthusiasts – and that turned white in later
none were greater years. His oft-stated goal
than Australian was to catch the largest
Alfred Dean. fish in the sea. Since whale
sharks and basking sharks
F ramed by the massive jaws of his record white shark, Aussie Alfred Dean was a citrus are both filter- feeders and
farmer who set aside two weeks each year to pursue the giant predators. Opposite: will not bite a baited hook,
This great white shattered the previous all-tackle record by more than 1,000 pounds. he turned to number three:
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
39
great white sharks (known as white pointers in Australia). efficacy of using sheep versus cattle meat, porpoise over seal.
Ultimately, of the seven largest sharks ever taken on For his part, Dean was already among the elite of his
conventional rod and reel – each weighing more than a sport, having set three world records, the last an astonishing
ton – Dean would capture six. Pretty good for a fellow 2,536-pound white shark four years before. He’d lost even
who fished only two weeks a year. bigger fish and was eager to raise the bar again.
His success was no accident. Dean was meticulous about Armed with the requisite gore, Dean boarded Ken
his tackle, trying and discarding gear from all the makers Puckridge’s charter boat Victory on a crisp autumn morning
of the day. His preferred rig was all-American: huge Penn and off they went. The two men began fishing at Dangerous
reel, stiff Silaflex rod and heavy Ashaway linen line. His Reef off the coast of South Australia, an area noted for the
hooks of choice were the largest available from Mustad long-time presence of a whaling station. On this trip, seal meat
of Norway – gigantic models that measured a full nine was the odor of choice, but for some reason it failed to work.
inches across. As Dean’s expertise grew, he commissioned The men fished for nine days without a strike. Finally, at 4
local experts to build up his tackle to even more Herculean a.m. on their last morning, a huge shadow slid under the boat
proportions: oversized reel seats, industrial strength roller just as Puckridge was down below brewing a fresh pot of coffee.
guides and reinforced fighting chairs. Dean thought he felt a nudge on his line and tossed more offal
For monster sharks, Dean into the water. A few tense minutes passed
favored the time-honored and the fish reappeared – an enormous black
bait-and-switch technique. silhouette nearly 17 feet long.
Huge chunks of porpoise, seal When the chum was removed from
or whale meat (Dean would the water and a baited slab of Flipper
later opine that great whites meat presented in its place, the shark
liked greasy food) would be never hesitated and the battle was joined.
left dangling in the water, only The brute moved off down the coastline,
to be snatched away on the but quickly tired under steady pressure.
approach of a hungry shark. Remarkably, there were few tense
Once frenzied, the great moments and no near-disasters.
beast would circle around and After barely an hour, punctuated by two
attack anything put in its path. spectacular leaps, the record-book shark was

A
secured. The eight-mile tow back to Denial
lf Dean was well Bay for the weigh-in was slow but uneventful.
prepared on his Alerted by ship-to-shore radio, a crowd
record-setting had gathered on the dock to gape at the
day in the fall mammoth fish as it was hoisted from the
of 1959. No fancy gear: just water and weighed. The big scale read
two enormous Mustad 18/0 1,208.38 kilograms, or 2,664 pounds.
hooks and a Penn 14/0 reel Already recognized as “the world’s
crammed with 130-pound test greatest shark fisherman,” Dean’s
line. A steady drip of blood celebrity was ensured for all time with
and whale oil over the side left this singular catch. Of the thousand-plus
a flavorful slick that drifted species on the IGFA’s all-tackle record
for miles. Partly as a result list, none has ever come within 750 pounds
of its effectiveness, the use of his incredible record.
of mammal meat as bait or
chum was subsequently banned by the IGFA, and remains A lf Dean poses with a 1,004-pound great white caught in
so to this day. Nonetheless, these enticements were perfectly November, 1953. The huge fish became the new IGFA record
legal in Dean’s time, and charter captains often debated the in the 50-pound line class.

S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
40
 D ean continued to fish
for a few more years,
but never bettered
his own mark. By
the time of his dotage he had a
million shark stories: how a shark
he captured in 1960 still had
Dean’s distinctive hook and leader
embedded in its jaws from a battle
two years before; how he’d lost an
estimated 5,000-pounder in 1954
after a bruising five-and-a-half
hours; how his first big shark was
caught on a splintered cane rod
stiffened with a broom handle;
how one time he lost his balance
in rough seas and wound up in
the midst of his own bloody chum
line. And then there was Barnacle
Lil – the quintessential big one
that got away.
According to legend, Barnacle Lil
was the doyenne of white sharks,
the mother of all mothers. She was
originally tagged as Barnacle Bill,
but Dean, who was a keen observer
of gamefish, changed the name
after identifying her as a female. An
estimated 20 feet long and weighing
more than 4,000 pounds, Lil was
easily identified by a distinctively
scarred gill cleft that was first
noticed by local snapper fishermen
who had lost many catches to the
giant predator.
Dean hooked the shark in 1952
while fishing with his wife and a
boatful of media people. Lured
into taking a rigged bait, Lil fought
for more than an hour before tiring
near the boat. With the end almost
at hand, Dean’s reel seized and the
line popped like a firecracker. Lil
slowly swam out of sight.
Dean saw the fish once more in
the 1960s, but could not induce her
to bite. In later years he would wax
longingly about the huge shark and
even penned a few engaging pages
about their encounters in a 1966
book about angling in Australia.

Over his long angling career, Alf Dean

caught six great white sharks weighing
a half-ton or more. In 1963 he came
close to beating his 1959 all-tackle
record with this 2,312-pound giant.
D ean died in 1991, proud
of his achievements, but
quick to acknowledge
that the circumstances
surrounding his records were no longer
in place. The world had changed.
Indeed it has. In fact, the world has
come to take a dim view of angling
for white sharks. Despite its top-of-
the-food-chain status, the species is
both relatively rare and easily over-
exploited. Furthermore, unlike mako
and thresher sharks, there is little to
be said for its fighting qualities or the
edibility of its flesh.
Fishing for white sharks has since
been banned in Australia, South
Africa, the U.S. and elsewhere, once
again allowing this ultimate predator
to survive unfettered. In the end, some
fish are best left un-caught.

GREATEST OF THE GREAT

P erhaps the best part of

the IGFA’s grand angling
museum in southeastern
Florida is the Hall of Fishes,
a majestic space where viewers look
up to view life-size mounts of many
of the great world record fish. Dean’s
2,664-pound monster is ostensibly up
there, menacing all the rest. However,
when the display was being assembled,
it was discovered that no true-to-size
reproduction of his record catch had
ever been made. As a result, inquiries
were made of fisherman Frank Mundus
of Jaws fame to see if the IGFA might
borrow his 3,600-pound shark mount
instead. He assented, and the much
larger fish was hoisted in place. Shortly
thereafter, the museum opened in 1999
with a gala reception attended by a host
of angling celebrities, including Dean’s
aging widow.
When Dean’s putative catch was
pointed out to her, the ever-loyal spouse
could only glance up and sniff, “It’s a big
one alright, but of course my husband’s
fish was much bigger than that.”

Editor’s Note: Mike Rivkin has written

five books on the history and art of
big-game fishing. He lives in San Diego
where he fishes the Pacific waters nearby.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
45
 ales
T T to ell By Michael McIntosh

Froggy went a-courtin’ and he did ride, uh-huh. dour and self-satisfied.
Froggy went a-courtin’ and he did ride, uh-huh. Shooting frogs certainly is
effective, but not all that much
Froggy went a-courtin’ and he did ride, a sword and a pistol by his side, fun, and I don’t care to shoot
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. – Old American Folksong bullets around water. Gigging

F
requires a bit more
rogs don’t skill and stealth;
carry swords you don’t throw
or pistols, the gig like a spear,
but they look but rather reach
as though they wish out and stick them,
they could. so you have to get
Frogs are close. Grabbing
physically incapable can be hair-raising
of smiling, but they at times. More on
can look insufferably that later. Force me
smug, as if they know to choose a single
something the rest approach and I’d
of us don’t. Maybe have to go for a
they do. What I fishing rod. More
know is that frogs on that later, too.
are biologically However you
interesting, fun to do it, frogging is
fool with and utterly largely a nocturnal
delicious to eat. affair, at least in my
As one predator to mind. They’re out
another, I tip my and about during
hat to them. the day, of course,
Sit by a pond or but those are targets
a lake on a summer of opportunity.
night and you’ll Serious frogging
likely hear the two always raises for
principal stud ducks me images of clear,
of North American starry skies on sultry
frogdom. One will summer nights. In
be the distinctive Missouri, where
basso profundo of I lived for nearly
Rana catesbeiana, 30 years, the frog
the American bullfrog – jug-a- I can’t decide whether to think season opened on July 1. If there’s
rum, jug-a-rum. A loud, plosive about catching frogs as hunting, a more miserable time of year
chuk! means a green frog, Rana fishing or something else. There to be outdoors, I couldn’t name
clamitans. Lay out one of each is more than one way to skin those it. Heat and humidity do not
side by side and you can see a particular cats. I’ve shot them combine into an environment
difference, but they’re more with a .22, caught them on fishing that’s comfortable to me. But
fun to distinguish by what they rods, gigged them, and simply the prospect of frogs makes
have to say. grabbed them as they sat looking up for the sweat.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
47
P robably the oldest form of
frogging is simply grabbing them
as they sit on a riverbank or the shore
of a pond. I’ve done it, though never
with much satisfaction as a sporting
pursuit. Their slick, moist skins
are hard to hold onto, and they’re
difficult to approach within arm’s
length, either in a boat or walking the
shore. But it can have its moments.
I was frogging one night in the
shallows of Missouri’s Niangua River,
wading wet and operating on the
S P
theory that I might get closer if I
came from the water instead of from
the land. It worked okay. I didn’t
like slogging through the mud, but
I had a few frogs on the stringer
clipped to my belt. I was in calf-deep
water in a long, knee-high patch
of water smartweed, playing my
flashlight along the bank and paying
no attention to where I was going.
It wouldn’t have mattered much
anyway. In the dark I blundered
onto a pair of wood ducks that had
O R T I N G C L A S
48
tucked in for the night. They blasted
right up into my face, and it’s still a
wonder to me why I didn’t blast off
into my shorts. I decided right then
that my frog-grabbing days were over.
I gigged them for a while after
that, bought a two-piece bamboo pole
and a three-tined gig head, trimmed
the tip of the rod back to where the
socket was a close fit and installed
a safety line in case the tip should
break. It worked well enough that I
took home my fair share of frogs.
Still, nothing proved to be quite
as much fun as catching them on a
fishing rod. For that I came to prefer a
stout, 9-foot fly rod and made up some
4-foot leaders with 20-pound tippets.
Frog flies are not complicated.
Start with a No. 3 treble hook and
simply knot on a narrow, three-inch
strip of cloth. Or you can tie on a
short length of orange or red yarn
and comb it out into a fluff. Frogs
don’t seem to care about the color;
anything that might be an insect is
likely to catch their interest. The
action is more important than the
pattern. You’re not dealing with keen
intelligence or great wariness, only
with an animal that’s willing to eat
anything smaller than itself.
If you go a-frogging at night, you’ll
want a good flashlight and perhaps
a pair of Wellington boots. If you
don’t mind getting your feet muddy
or wet, the boots are optional. I
suppose a headlamp would be
useful, though I’ve never used one.
The technique is to stalk a
shoreline, moving slowly and quietly,
searching with your light. It’s much
like catching nightcrawlers, where
your advantage lies in keeping
ground vibration to a minimum.
When you spot one sitting and
looking as self-important as a
banker or a Senator, ease up within
the length of your rod and dangle
the lure right in front of his nose.
Often as not he’ll snap at it. If he
doesn’t – and some don’t – lower
the rod so the lure is under his chin,
make a short, quick upward jerk
(hence the treble hook), and you’ll
have a frog on the line.
S I C S
 One thing I do recommend is that
you conk him on the head before you
unhook him. Chasing a frog in grass at
night is the stuff of slapstick comedy
and a game you’ll probably lose.

O nce home, fortified by a cool

shower and an even cooler gin
and tonic, you’ll need to dress your
game. It’s not difficult. The only really
edible parts are the hind legs. Some
highly skilled chefs might know ways
of preparing the rest, but it never has
struck me as being worth the trouble.
Just cut the skin right above the
pelvis, peel the legs with pliers, snip
off the feet and you’re done.
The meat of frog legs is so white
that it’s nearly translucent. Some
years ago, as I was in the process of
making a frog-leg dinner, a young
friend called and asked what I was
doing. Cooking frog legs. “Oh,” she
said, “are they green?” Only when
the skin’s still on, and I don’t eat the
skin. “Oooh.” Never eaten frogs, eh?
You can separate the legs if you
wish, or leave them attached at the
pelvic bone. Either way, cook them
with a light touch – no marinating,
breading or burying them under
seasoning. Despite what your mother
or grandma might have said, frog
legs don’t taste like chicken. Nothing
tastes like chicken, except possibly
library paste. Frog legs taste like frog
legs, which is a wonderful, delicate
flavor that’s too easily destroyed by
over-cooking.
I prefer to saute them lightly
in butter or olive oil with a dab of
chopped garlic and a few drops of
lemon juice and leave it at that. As
frog season corresponds with the
time when tomatoes are coming
ripe, you can easily find a good
complement to a feast. Back it with
a glass of whatever white wine you
like, served icy cold, and you’ll think
you’ve died and gone to Heaven.
I have to assume there are
bullfrogs and green frogs in
Heaven. And I must also assume
they’re available for the catching.
If not, then to quote Mr. Browning,
what’s a Heaven for?
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
50
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
51
 Destinations By Michael Pearce

T hey draw our eyes and envy

like a brilliant diamond
necklace on a tray of pearls,
the long stretches of
five-star, ultra-private streams we
see as we drive to some crowded
Colorado public fishery.
HomeWaters Club has
reserved more than
35 miles of top-quality
Colorado trout streams
for its fly-fishing members
and their families.
days fishing such wondrous waters
and it was every bit as good as I’d
dreamed. We caught rainbows up to
18 inches amid a nice caddis hatch a
few minutes from the towns of Vail
and Eagle. By four-wheel-drive and
waders we accessed a high-country
You know the ones; streams stream five miles from the
that split lush meadows with nearest road. There, what the
untrampled banks, with sunlit trout lacked in size they made
riffles that dump into gorgeous up for in a willingness to rise
pools dimpled by rising trout to hoppers. A few hours later
the size of small salmon. we hiked groomed trails into
They’re the places with signs a jagged gorge and cast to
like, “Trespassers will be shot. 20-inch cutthroats that rose to
Survivors will be shot again.” an assortment of dry flies.
The kind of place we’d all love The next morning we fished
to buy until we hear they sell a middle-of-somewhere ranch
for up to $2,500 per yard of with two miles of narrow
river frontage. stream where long casts
Well, last were rare, but 30 takes in a
summer I
spent a
few
Ksonip Dellinger and his 7-year-old
Carson caught this rainbow
on Troublesome Creek. Below:
HomeWaters Guide John Jamison
watches Jerrod Pearce cast to a
rise on the Eagle River.
half-day were not. Next, we pulled
sparrow-sized woolly buggers over
a lake’s weedbeds for pig-shaped
rainbows of 20-plus inches.
Too bad I didn’t have a few more
weeks – or months! – to sample
more of the HomeWaters Club’s 35
miles of great fly fishing streams.
C olorado’s best trout
fishing club got its start in
Pennsylvania, of all places, with the
Spring Ridge Club. Centered near
the town of Spruce Creek, Spring
S P
Ridge was formed by several
avid sportsmen who wanted to
ensure they and their families had
high-quality waters to fly-fish for
generations to come.
Special sections of Spruce,
Penns, Yellow Creek and many
other legendary waters were put
under long-term lease or purchased
outright until 30-plus miles were
within the club. All of these five-star
streams were within a few hours of
Washington D.C., New York and
several other eastern metroplexes.
O R T I N G C L A S
54
After a few years the managers
realized a high-percentage of
members either owned vacation
homes in Colorado or stayed there
regularly. And so they set out to
secure miles of mountain streams
from Colorado landowners who
were willing to open their property
to the club and have their streams
intensely managed for trout.
To date, HomeWaters has
completed a number of habitat
enhancement projects. Some areas
have been left totally pristine while
others have been heavily stocked.
Where needed, access trails have
been maintained for safe, easy
walking. Ample room for backcasts
was also a consideration.
Anglers on HomeWaters streams
are accompanied by full-time,
professional fly-fishers who are
passionate about the sport. Rather
than providing regular fishing hours,
the guide may suggest four hours at
dawn and another four toward dusk,
on different rivers, to get clients
into distinctly different hatches.
Anglers to whom size and
challenge matter more than anything
may be taken to a remote lake where
submarine-sized ’bows and browns
cruise near the surface to inhale tiny
flies on miniscule tippets.
For those who want easier angling
and lots of fish, such as a member
introducing a guest or grandchild
to the sport, the guides will lead
them to can’t-miss holes, where
they’ll show a mother’s patience
with tangled lines and missed fish.
H omeWaters’ accommodations
appeal to anglers and non-
anglers alike. Some stay in such
trendy towns as Eagle and Steamboat
Springs. Others might enjoy a family
reunion at a ranchstead they have all
to themselves.
For those unfortunate souls who
don’t fish, there’s plenty of shopping,
hiking, rafting, horsebacking
and just lounging around. Most
accommodations are mere minutes
away from some of the state’s
best ski runs for those who want to
S I C S
 enjoy a winter or spring morning
on the slopes and an afternoon on
the rivers. It’s truly amazing how
well the club has brought all these
amenities and activities together in
such a relatively short time.
Probably no place offers better
proof of what HomeWaters can
provide than Elk River Lodge near
Steamboat Springs. Only a few steps
from the luxurious lodge is the Elk
River and more than a mile of club-
only water filled with good-sized
trout. And just a short drive away is
an extensive portion of the Yampa,
one of the prettiest trout streams in
Colorado. A section of tail-race river,
that portion of the Yampa pushes
through a long meadow where the
hatches attract dense schools of trout.
We hit the Yampa the last two
hours of a summer day when the
dimples from rising fish appeared
like raindrops. The fish were
mostly rainbows from 15 to 19
inches that jumped like gymnasts
amid our joyful hoops and hollers.
Several times passing cars slowed
on the highway, no doubt carrying
anglers who couldn’t help but
notice trout rising all around us.
Amazingly, the best may be yet
to come as HomeWaters leaders are
already scouting other legendary
waters in Jackson Hole, the Ozarks
and even the Great Lakes region. As
more members join, the club’s list
of diamond fisheries will grow and
glow brighter and brighter.

Author’s Note: Three- to six-day

non-member fishing excursions
are available for those who want
to sample HomeWaters streams
and services. A membership
requires a refundable joining fee,
regular dues and per-use costs.
Sincere price breaks are given to
members who bring their families.
Memberships can be transferred
to others in the family upon the
passing of the original member.
For more information, visit
www.HomeWatersClub.com or
call Membership Director Mike
Harpster at (814) 686-6214.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
56
Legend Elite 1-2p.7x4.625 3/23/10 9:34 AM Page 1
 Ramblings By Michael Altizer

T he Au Sable springs from

Otsego and Roscommon and
then consolidates itself near
Grayling before venturing
forth on its long ramble home to
Lake Huron. Along its tangled
edges the dark forest rises deep
There was a time
when she was the
absolute joy of his life.
And now that she’s
gone, she is still his
most pleasant memory.
figure out this business of being a bird
dog. It was all strange country to her,
with strange trees and strange smells
and especially strange creatures – long-
tailed pheasants bigger and more
audacious than any grouse or quail
she’d ever encountered, big prickly
and verdant in random porcupines unlike any
stands of popple and groundhog she’d ever
maple and birch. Rich, seen – and now this, a
young pin oaks fill rabbit twice as saucy
the myriad patches of as the most insolent
overgrown clearcut, cottontail that had
along with all the ever challenged her
other new growth to a chase.
that together provide Yeah, I know . . . bird
habitat for the grouse dogs aren’t supposed to
that brought Betsy and pay attention to rabbits.
me here for so many But the country back
years on our annual home was overrun
October odyssey. with rabbits, and she’d
For a little southern- struggled with them
born Brittany, it was from the time she was
at first an odd and a pup when one had
capricious place. Yet literally jumped up
throughout her life from beneath her nose.
Betsy came to learn Now so far from
and love these great home, she had no
northern forests just as way of knowing the
much she did those of difference between a
her own country far to cottontail rabbit and a
the south. And it was snowshoe hare. All she
here on our first trip to knew for certain was
Michigan that she met that this was one very
the grouse that forever irreverent creature
changed her life. with the biggest,
smelliest feet that had

I remember that
grouse. At first, I
wasn’t quite sure what
ever assaulted her
senses, and before
either of us could do
she had – especially anything about it,
after the incident earlier Brer’ Brittany and
that morning with the Brer’ Hare were off on
snowshoe hare.
In her defense, Betsy was barely
Boutetsy,of kindergarten,
the author’s young Brittany, barely
just weeks before she
an impromptu frolic upriver, with
me in hot pursuit using words and
out of kindergarten and still trying to met the grouse that changed her life. phrases she’d never heard before.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
59
 It had only taken her a few seconds
to realize the error of her ways, but by
then it was too late and she knew it.
And when she returned a minute or
so later she had a repentant, hang-dog
look on her little freckled face, and
we both took a few extra moments
to catch our collective breath before
agreeing to forget the whole incident.
B y late afternoon the day had
turned into a real gem, the
autumn air crisp and clear and vibrant.
We had bumped two grouse, both of
them flushing wild, and I had resisted
taking a shot at either lest Betsy get
the idea that it was okay to chase birds.
But now her demeanor was entirely
different, with the cool evening
breezes fetching messages of promise
as she started getting birdy. One step
forward, two steps back, then a quick
180 before she began to get the full
picture, and suddenly everything
became clear as she threaded her
way through the thick scrub, first left
toward the river, then out across a
small clearing before she nosed into a
young fallen pine.
Twice she circled the downed
pine, nose poking here, nose poking
there, her little bobtail a blur until
she finally determined that the bird
was on the move. And so she started
widening her circle and nearly
stumbled as she pirouetted back on
her own track where it crossed the
grouse’s trail, bearing up and away
from the river through a narrow
crease to the high step above us.
She was now fully committed to
the bird, as I was to her, and I knew
it was simply a matter of time and
persistence until she either caught up
with him or bumped him and caused
him to flush wild. She was absolutely
on tiptoe as she worked her way up
through the crease, making notes as
she went. I followed as discreetly as
possible, giving her plenty of time and
room to figure things out as the grouse
made his way higher into the thick
birch and maple above us.
He was clearly on his home turf,
burrowing deep into a dense stand
of pin oaks as we topped out along a
barely perceptible trail that led deep
into the thickest tangle we’d seen so far.
She was close now; I could tell
it in the way she moved and by
her quivering little tail and the
percussive beat of the crisp evening
air sifting through her nostrils. The
bird was quickly running out of
options – I knew it, she knew it
and he knew it – and suddenly
Betsy circled left, broke from the
trail and completely vanished.
I was stunned and for a moment
disoriented and alone . . . where has
she gone . . . where is the bird . . .
where am I? And then she was there,
poised dim and ghostly in the damask
trail 20 feet ahead, locked up solid
and pointing straight back toward me,
tail high, head low, eyes large with her
left front paw raised daintily to her
quivering chin.
The little gun floated free and
weightless at half-rise in front of me,
my thumb positioned firmly atop the
safety, my finger resting lightly aside
the trigger, the air as still and pure
and perfect as the moment trembling
timelessly around us.
For 27 years I have held that
moment as closely as Betsy held
that bird. She hovered there, a pale
apparition in the half-light, the
unseen grouse as real a presence
as my own pounding heart. I stood
transfixed, awaiting the memory
to come, until Time itself could no
longer bear the strain and the bird
rose from the forest floor between
us in a thunderous rumble of leaves
and dust, chestnut-flecked and dark-
ruffed, tail ivory-rimmed and fanned
wide, wings drumming, climbing,
pleading for that singular cerulean
patch of clear evening sky.
The little gun buried itself deep
into my shoulder as the bird came
clear, and backlit feathers filled the air
as he tumbled into a remembrance
as fresh on this cold winter night in
Tennessee as it was on that warm
autumn evening in Michigan.
W e hunted the great Huron
forest every year of her life for
as long as Betsy was able, but I never
returned there after she died. She
was the best friend I ever had. And
now it surely speaks of preference
and priority that such a little dog
could have brought so much peace
and contentment to one man’s life,
along with the constant introspection
I always felt when in her presence.
Her spirit was forthright and her
affection unconditional, her greatest
measure of devotion always free and
sincere and for me alone. For it was
I who carried her afield to hunt, I
to whom she looked for love and play
and a more-than-occasional egg or slice
of toast to garnish her daily ration, by
whose side she waited expectantly as I
cleaned our birds and to whose lap she
entrusted her weary head at day’s end.
Our life together was one of mutual
admiration and dependence. I bore
the gun, and she brought her nose
and instincts. She swept the hollows
and ridges and thickets, and I carried
her water and her biscuits and her
bowl. Over the years I became
more and more tolerant of her
infrequent indiscretions and she of my
increasingly recurrent pauses for rest.
We never asked perfection of one
another, only understanding, each
knowing the proper time to defer to
the other’s gifts – I when to stop and
give her time to do her work, and she
when to cast a glance over her shoulder
to check my proximity. And together
we shared the fruits – the solitude and
companionship, the occasions that
brought us together to a far sweeter
existence than either of us had alone.
We shared the same cup, ate the
same bread, breathed the same air
and drank from the same stream,
our faces hard down in the water
shoulder to shoulder, soul to soul.
When quenched we would arise, and
she would whine that we should be
on our way and soon we’d again be
deep in thought among the trees.
She got the livers and the hearts
and left me the rest.
 S h o t guns By Robert Matthews

I n terms of quality, side-by-

side shotguns cover a very
broad spectrum. They range
from “junkers” that should be
avoided to exquisite Best English
and Italian guns and even the
best American and
A “sweet little gun,” the
28-bore Garbi sidelock
performed flawlessly,
both on the clays range
and in the quail fields.
extremely well. A new, good-
quality Spanish gun may not
display the absolute flawless
perfection of workmanship that’s
found in a Holland, but it will be
quite good, and the difference will
not be nearly as great
European shotguns. as the difference in
Despite the price would suggest.
hazards inherent If you are weighing
to generalizing, the purchase of a
and good judgment new Spanish side-by-
notwithstanding, I side against an older
think it’s probably English or American
fair to say that gun, a modern
current Spanish Spanish shotgun will
makers have staked have the advantage
a firm claim to the of better metallurgy.
middle ground of Gun steels today
quality. And since are certainly better
the middle ground than the steel that
is the natural habitat was available to even
of the bargain, Best-quality makers
there are some good of a hundred years
values to be found in ago. In the balance,
Spanish guns today. there is a strong
If you have a argument to be made
fondness for the for buying a top-tier
side-by but can’t Spanish gun.
afford a Best-quality
English or Italian
gun, you might want
to take a good look at
O ne of the
nicer Spanish
offerings is produced
some of the Spanish by Armas Garbi.
offerings. The heart William Larkin
of the Spanish trade Moore and Sons
is the sidelock on in Scottsdale is
the pattern of the currently importing
timeless Holland the Garbi line, and
and Holland, and it’s Dave Moore recently
a very good action. sent me a top-of-the-
Most of the better terry allen
line 28-gauge ejector
sidelocks from Italy gun to try. Nicely
are also copies of the Holland.
The Holland-style sidelock
EGarbi
ven with 29-inch barrels, this exquisite little
28-gauge side-by-side weighs only
crafted, it had excellent wood and
deeply cut “prestige” engraving
is simple, reliable and works 6 pounds 2 ounces. that was attractively executed. The
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
63
locks and action body were coin
finished, and the critical items
of fit and finish were uniformly
excellent. It had 29-inch barrels,
weighed 6 pounds, 2 ounces, and
balanced on the forward edge of
the hinge pin. This gave the gun
just enough forward bias to put
some feel into the front hand,
which is a good thing. The weight
was just about perfect for any
gunning that a 28 might be
used for.
Surprisingly, one of the things I
S P
liked most was that the gun was not
too small or light. Twenty-eights
are supposed to be small and light,
but only to a certain point.
It seems that “true” 28 frames
are all the rage these days. The
problem is that what we commonly
refer to as a “true” 28-gauge frame
is tiny . . . so tiny, in fact that it’s
hard for an adult to handle and to
shoot well. A flyweight shotgun can
be a wonderful toy, but you would
probably starve to death if you had
to feed yourself with one. While
O R T I N G C L A S
64
the 28-bore Garbi is smaller than a
20 gauge, it’s not tiny and feels like
a real gun rather than a toy.
If many 28s are too light, we
can blame “the rule of 96,” which
has been around for as long as
there have been shotguns. W. W.
Greener referred to it in his book,
The Gun and Its Development,
first published in 1881. The
rule states that for recoil to be
comfortable, a gun should weigh
at least 96 times the weight of
its shot charge. According to the
rule, a 28 could weigh as little as
41/2 pounds. And a few of them
do. The problem is that nobody
can shoot a gun that light with
any consistency. There are very
few people who can shoot really
well with a gun that weighs less
than six pounds, regardless of its
gauge. Six to six-and-a-half pounds
is much better, even in a much-
carried, seldom-shot upland gun.
A t the time that I was
testing the Garbi, I had
another side-by-side and an
over-under to test as well, so I
enlisted Chuck Wechsler and
Mike Altizer to help me with
the shooting and give me their
impressions. Since Mike and I
are both devotees of the side-by-
side and Chuck fancies the over-
under, I felt that we could get
a fair assessment of the various
guns’ capabilities. Together, we
piled a whole truckload of guns
into the old gray Tundra and
hied ourselves off to Wynfield
Plantation near Albany, Georgia,
to do a little bird huntin’.
We arrived late in the day,
and so we decided to shoot the
guns on the clays range before
taking to the fields. We weren’t
expecting a lot, because even
great field guns do not often
make great clays guns. In that
sense, the Garbi was a surprise.
Functionally, it was flawless. The
recoil was very pleasant, and the
29-inch barrels helped to give
the gun a smooth, clean swing.
S I C S
 Not like an 8-pound clays model,
mind you, but very smooth for a
lightweight upland gun.
The next morning we piled
into the jeep, loaded a passel of
dogs and set out to hunt birds.
For the whole day we pillaged
Wynfield’s pinelands and food
plots, promiscuously swapping
guns on a whim, popping away
with whatever gun fell to hand.
The more I shot, the more I
noticed that I gravitated toward
the Garbi.
We found the last covey of
the day in a scraggly tangle of
plum about 50 yards from a small
foodplot tucked among the sedge
and pines. Chuck and I were
up, and we took the flush just as
the sun began to slide below the
horizon. Most of the birds went
somewhere else, but one bored
straight away and tumbled to my
first barrel. Another tarried a bit
and came up late, curling to the
left, rocking from side to side as
he dodged between the pines. He
tumbled to the Garbi’s left barrel.
After picking up the fallen, a last
quick cast in the dimming light
produced one of the survivors, and
he came up like a cock pheasant,
climbing for the tops of the pines.
When he fell, I wasn’t even aware
of the shot or the lead or anything
else except that I was intensely
focused on the bird. And that’s the
way it’s supposed to be.
Recently, I’ve heard some
speculation about how the best of
the Spanish guns might be rising
to the next level, perhaps even
challenging some of the Italian guns
for a higher spot in the “pecking
order.” While only time will tell if
it’s so, the verdict is in on the little
Garbi. What a sweet little gun!

Editor’s Note: If you would like

to know more about Garbi guns,
visit www.williamlarkinmoore.com
or contact William Larkin Moore
and Sons, 16622 North 91st Street,
Suite #103, Scottsdale, AZ 85260.
Phone: 480-951-8913.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
66
 Gu ndo gs By Tom Davis

Out with the Boys – Black Labs by Rollie Brandt courtesy wild wings

Intelligent and adaptable,
obedient and ruggedly
athletic – no wonder the
Lab continues to be America’s
most popular canine breed.
but the most popular breed, period. For
the record, the Lab has been #1 in AKC
registrations every year since 1991, and
there are no indications it will relinquish
that title any time soon.
I also saw a recent Field & Stream
survey that, while admittedly not
the dog you share those interests with
is a sturdily built, ruggedly athletic lad
or lass wearing a weatherproof black,
yellow or chocolate coat.
In any event, I replied that in fact I
write about Labs all the time, just not
all the time for this publication. I’m

A
reader asked me the
other day why I write
so infrequently about
Labrador retrievers,
pointing out that not only are they the
most popular gundog breed in America
S P
conducted with scientific rigor,
yielded the fairly astonishing result
that 41 percent of the gundogs owned
by its readers are Labs. So if you’re
a “typical” American outdoorsman –
i.e., a generalist with a broad range
of sporting interests – chances are
O R T I N G C L A S
69
a columnist, you see, for Just Labs,
an award-winning magazine spun
off from the wildly successful Dale
Spartas/Steve Smith book of the same
name. With the exception of English
setters (and possibly pointers), I’m
probably more familiar with Labs –
S I C S
 The Usual Suspects is by Minnesota artist Joshua Spies. For prints, visit JoshuaSpies.com
their history, development, strengths,
etc. – than I am with any other breed.
That history is fascinating, and
thanks to the tireless efforts of the late
Richard Wolters, the flamboyant author,
showman and bon vivant, we have a
remarkably comprehensive picture of
it. The record begins in 16th century
France, where the monks at the Abbey
of St. Hubert – the patron saint of
hunting, not coincidentally – bred a
black hound celebrated throughout
Europe as a tracker and retriever
nonpareil. The St. Hubert’s hound was
also renowned, according to one source,
for “fearing neither water not cold.”
Hmmm . . . What modern hunting
breed does that sound like?
Cut to the early 1800s when the
descendants of the St. Hubert’s dogs,
having first found their way to Devon
in the southwest of England, crossed
the pond with English fishermen
and became established on the
Avalon Peninsula of Newfoundland.
Known there as the St. John’s dog
or the Newfoundland water dog, its
duties included diving into the sea to
retrieve fish that had come unhooked!
Remember, we’re talking the North
Atlantic here; the mere thought of
those bone-chilling waters makes
me want to reach for a Hudson’s Bay
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I
70
blanket and a hot toddy.
The term “Labrador” was first
used to describe this breed in 1814.
That in itself is instructive regarding
the rugged qualities it possessed,
Labrador having been famously
described by the explorer John
Cabot as “the land that God gave
Cain.” I’ve been there a couple times
myself, and it remains the only place
where, within a 24-hour period, I’ve
baked in 90-degree sunshine and
frozen my ass in a snowstorm.
The point is, these incredibly (if
not insanely) demanding conditions
cold-forged the Labrador type and
endowed the breed with many of
its sterling qualities. Its coat, for
example. Short, slick and superbly
water-repellant, with an outer “shell”
of glossy guard hairs and a “lining” of
dense underfur – like a waxed-cotton
jacket over a wool sweater – it affords
a combination of high protection and
low maintenance that few if any other
breeds can match. It’s the original
“shake dry” garment – although why
the owners of this garment invariably
shake dry while standing next to their
owners remains a question in search
of an answer.
The Lab is also endowed with
a comparatively generous layer of
C S
 subcutaneous fat, which serves the
dual purpose of further insulating it
from the cold and giving it an added
measure of buoyancy in the water.
This comes at a price, however: a
predisposition to obesity and the litany
of health problems associated with it.
I suspect that there’s a deeply rooted
connection between the Lab’s fat layer
and its voracious eating habits, habits
so frightening in their rapacity that
even Dr. Temple Grandin, the well-
known animal behaviorist, is at a loss
to explain them.
In her insightful book, Animals in
Translation, Grandin characterizes the
Lab as “a compulsive overeater,” but
adds “I don’t think anyone knows why.”
Other adaptations for water-work
include webbed feet and the Lab’s
distinctive “otter” tail. Designed as a
rudder, it’s proved a lifesaver to more
than one duck hunter who found
himself bobbing in icy water after
his skiff capsized and survived only
by grabbing his Lab’s stout tail and
getting a tow to terra firma.
Still, were it not for the single-
minded devotion of a trio of 19th
century British aristocrats – Lord
Buccleuch and the Earls of Malmsbury
and Home, respectively – the Lab might
have passed from the scene. Building
on the foundation they’d inherited in
the St. John’s dog, they selectively bred
toward the goal of a producing a keen
but biddable retriever of game – a dog
that was trainable and obedient, but
once slipped, was relentless in its quest
to find and recover birds. To say they
succeeded hardly does justice to their
achievement, and to them goes the
lion’s share of the credit for endowing
the Lab with the prodigious intelligence
and psychological soundness that make
the breed so versatile, so adaptable, and
such a favorite among so many different
“user groups.”

O ne of the great examples of the

Lab’s versatility is the way it took to
American pheasant hunting. In Britain
the Lab was used primarily as a non-slip
retriever, and rarely if ever as a flushing
dog. Soon after its importation to the
U.S., however (the AKC registered its
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
71
 first Lab in 1917), sportsmen began to
discover, to their surprise and delight,
that the Lab excelled in this role. It
had the nose, it had the desire, it had
the athleticism, and it also had the size
and strength to bust heavy cover and
put skulking roosters to wing. Plus, its
retrieving acumen made it just the dog
you wanted when that rooster hit the
ground – and in particular if it hit the
ground running.
A close-working, cover-busting
flushing dog that’s hell on cripples:
If your goal is tailfeathers sprouting
from your game pocket, that’s pretty
much the perfect recipe. No one
disputes the Lab’s status as the duck
dog par excellence, but I think a
strong case can be made that the
pheasant ultimately played an equally
important role in contributing to its
popularity here in the Colonies.
The Lab is one of only a handful of
breeds characterized as “low fear, low
aggression.” Typically a breed that’s
low in one is high in the other, and
vice-versa. While I suspect that most
of the sporting breeds fall into this
category (although I have my doubts
about a couple), the Lab is clearly the
paradigm. Low fear-low aggression
translates into a dog that’s wonderful
with children, keeps its cool in
stressful situations, and is simply a
good all-around canine citizen. The
Lab’s probably not the best choice for
guarding the junkyard, but there has
to be something useful that all those
pits, Rotts and Dobies can do.
Of course, popularity in dog breeds
is always a double-edged sword,
as it invariably leads to a spate of
indiscriminate breeding that dilutes
the gene pool and mass-produces
dogs that may look like Labs but don’t
have the temperament, trainability
and hard-wired behaviors that a
Lab’s supposed to have. This is why
it’s critically important, regardless of
the role you want your Lab to play,
to do your homework and deal with a
reputable breeder. Even if that pup you
have your heart set on will never get its
mouth around a mallard, it should have
the desire to hunt and to retrieve. If it
doesn’t, it’s just not a Lab.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
72
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
73
 Horizons By Roger Pinckney

D own at the Plaza de

Mayo, the Argentines
are beating each
other with sticks. The
Peronists have stormed their own
headquarters and will not come
out until they call a bomb threat
A little money, a little
Spanish, a little patience,
and a great sense of humor –
all you need to survive
the storms of doves
in Argentina.
coups, keep a close eye on guns
coming into the country.
We have a side-by-side and
an over-under, two high-grade
Merkel 20s. Merkel was among
the German gunmakers who
wound up on the wrong side of
on themselves. We the Iron Curtain.
are a couple of The Reds
miles away at El consolidated all
Aeroparque Jorge the companies into
Newberry, and the one grand firearms
pilots are on strike. collective to make
Argentine pilots shotguns for high-
have not been rolling Comrade
paid in two weeks, Commissars. When
but we are flying the wall came
LAN Chile. There down, Merkel
is no great love reorganized and
lost between the moved into the
nations. Argentines western market.
tell you they are And that’s where
the steak and we come in. We’re
Chile is the bone taking Merkels
for the dogs. If I to a land where
told you what the Benellis and
Chileans say about Berettas rule. We
Argentines, they will see how they
would not print it hold up.
here. So LAN will keep flying, but
late. Instead of shooting birds in
Tand-under,
he author with a Merkel 2000 CL over-
and his Argentina bird boys,
But we have to get there first. A
bus from the estancia meets us at
Cordoba, we are wishing it wasn’t Juan and Hugo Mantilla. the Cordoba airport. We are late,
too early for Senor Jack Daniels. but earlier than the sole Argentine
Me and Claudette, my second flight, which delivers a contingent
trip, her third. Two hours later generates the papers on his end. of Texans.
there is a stirring at the gate, an Somebody meets you at the “What yall got in the box?” one
Airbus making ready to load. No gate and escorts you to an office wants to know.
jetway here, downstairs, across where special police check serial “Merkels,” I say.
the tarmac and up a ladder. The numbers and collect a hundred “Myrtles?”
guncase goes up the conveyor and bucks a gun, more if they feel
thumps into the cargo bay.
Bringing your guns to
Argentina? Not for the harried,
like it. A deal if you figure it by
the page, the artistic flairing
fancy wristwork in stamp, stamp,
T his country looks like eastern
Montana, broad flat fields,
checkerboarded by fencerows
hurried or the faint of heart. You stamping each individual sheet and hedgerows with a line of
send your outfitter the numbers half a dozen times. Argentines, ragged blue hills in the distance,
six weeks in advance and he weary of coups and threats of but the cowboys hanging around
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
75
 the crossroad cantinas wear
berets, not Stetsons.
One town short, there is a
barricade of tires, pallets and
sections of drag-harrow, teeth up.
Dour campesinos are standing
around with sticks.
“Do not worry, senores,” the driver
says, “it is only the farm protest.”
The campesinos thrust
leaflets through the windows,
wave us on.
We arrive at Estancia Los
Chanares in time for lunch.
Lunch is a serious undertaking
in Argentina and will burn up
about two hours. Fresh bread, an
extravagance of salad, potatoes,
steaks, ribs, dove breasts, wine,
wine, wine and finally homemade
ice cream and fruit cobbler. We
waddle from the table and get
introduced around.
Alex, a Columbian and lifelong
hunting guide, runs the lodge.
His wife, Jessica, a veteran
restauranteur from Buenos Aries,
runs the kitchen. Martin organizes
the shoots, ramrods the bird boys
and fixes the guns when they need
fixing, which is more often than
you might expect.
Most estancias offer shooting
wintertimes to help spread
out the pesos – and to thin
flocks that can easily flatten a
grainfield in an afternoon. But
Estancia los Chanares manages
crops for the birds, instead.
The lodge is grand enough for
any exiled ex-presidente, white
stucco, fireplaces everywhere,
formal gardens, swimming
pool, red tile roof and red tile
floors. The fields are angular
and irregular, troublesome for
agriculture but perfect for food
plots. All around are rotten
stone hills of impenetrable
thornbushes – chanares – hence
the name of this distant, obscure
and excellent place.
We meet our bird boys at the
first stop, Hugo and Juan, brothers
in their early 20s, swarthy, beady-
eyed and diligent. Two cases of
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
76
shells, two field-seats, two coolers
of water and Quilmes, the favored
local brew, feed sacks for the birds
and the empty shells.
They lead us to a makeshift
blind strung between two thorn
trees. They break out the shells –
Orbeas made right up the road
in Tucuman – and we break out
the guns. Hugo and Juan tip
boxes and the shells rattle into
our vest pockets.
I learn a lot that day. You can
only shoot one bird at a time.
S P
A ventilated rib is a radiator.
Your gun will cool faster open
and propped vertically against
a convenient tree. Finally, don’t
forget your shooting gloves. Splat –
blood across my glasses. The new
checkering has worn the hide
right off my thumb.
“You boys got any band aids?”
“No, senor, but Martin will have
them when he brings more shells.”
“More shells?”
“Si, senor, these two cases will
not last you so long.”
O R T I N G C L A S
78
W inter daylight comes late
in these latitudes. Reveille
at eight, a bounteous breakfast at
8:30. Alex and I linger over coffee.
“How many birds do you have?”
He smiles. “Twenty millions? Forty
millions? Who knows? We have the
largest dove roost in all of Argentina.”
We ride to the morning shoot
with a new arrival, Harvey
Alexander from London. He’s
ecstatic. “I can fly first class from
London to Buenos Aires and shoot
here for less than it costs me to
shoot driven grouse in England!”
We find Hugo and Juan on a foot-
trail atop the brow of a long hogback
ridge. There is a brightening field on
one side, thornbush tangle on the other.
After the pickup rattles away we notice
a sound persistent as distant surf, as if
the earth itself is breathing. Millions
upon countless millions of doves are
cooing up the morning. Already the
air is full of them and the green hills
echo with the crackle of gunfire.
But how many doves can a man
shoot? How many birds does a man
want to shoot? Last year another
Texan tried to figure it out. He shot
6,016 doves in 11 hours using three
extended magazine Benellis. He kept
three bird boys busy, two loading,
one counting. Not sure of his shell
bill, his hospital bill either.
A couple of hours into it, Claudette
cusses. A fine screw in the forend
hardware has worked itself loose.
“Y’all got a screwdriver?”
“No, senor, Martin will bring
when he brings more shells.”
I sit crosslegged in tall grass and pull
the forearm off the gun. The screw
retains a cam that cocks the top barrel
ejector. “If we can’t get us a screwdriver,
we won’t need more shells.”
“No problemo, senor,” Hugo
says and pulls a battered jack knife
from his jeans.
I baby the screw with a
thumbnail instead. My nail splits,
but the gun will shoot.
We break for lunch, I peel the
forend again and pass it to Martin.
He returns it with ceremonial
flourish right at the table, along with
S I C S
an eyeglass screwdriver, custom
ground to fit the fine Merkel screw.
Back in business, for awhile anyway.
A couple dozen boxes into
the afternoon shoot, the double
bellers and slaps my already
pulverized shoulder twice as hard
as expected. I reckon somebody
in Tucuman got careless with his
powder dipper. Juan comes to
my side, looks over my battered
shoulder as I puzzle over the gun.
“It has fired twice, senor.”
He’s right. “Martin!”
On our way out of the fields, we
pick up one of the Texans holding
what’s left of a semi-auto. The
receiver literally fell apart in his
hands. “I was hoping to shoot a
thousand birds today,” he bemoans,
“but damnit, all I got was seven-fifty.”
Nothing serious. An aluminum
receiver with egged-out holes.
The pins that secure the trigger
group fell into the thorn tree
leaves. Martin has a zip-lock of
them back at the estancia.
I quiz Martin. “How many
rounds been through that gun?”
He shrugs. “In two years,
maybe fifty thousand.”
“Fifty thousand? How do your
over-unders stand up?”
“They break hammers around
sixty thousand. I can adjust
them, but then they break
springs.”
“What’s the absolutely
toughest gun?”
“The Browning Citori, senor.
But the firing pins erode . . .”
C lang, clang, bang. A wind is
roaring down the Andes and
every rattly piece of metal, every gate,
every loose board for a hundred miles
is picking up the lunatic rhythm.
Clang, clang, clang. I ease out of
bed and pad down to the great room
looking for coffee. Harvey Alexander,
the wandering Britt, is hooked over a
Cuban cigar and his cell phone. The
cigar works, the phone doesn’t.
I leave my doubling Merkel on the
gunrack and hornswoggle Martin out
of one of the house guns, a Beretta
Silver Pigeon 28. It’s only a year old,
the checkering has worn right off
the stock, but it functions flawlessly.
And Brothers and Sisters, I am here
to testify that you can kill the hell
out of doves with a 28. I drop the
first 16 straight. I tell you this not to
brag, but only so you can share my
astonishment. Forty yards, sixty yards,
doesn’t matter. Deadly beyond belief.
Claudette is shooting the Merkel
over-under and besides having to
keep after the troublesome screw,
she is dropping birds left and right.
But the wind is still ripping. We
are shooting from a hole hacked
out of the thornbushes halfway
down a steep ridge. Birds careening
downwind are just an impossible blur.
Upwind it’s a little better. Upwind
or down, the birds can’t see us until
they are right on top of us. But we
can’t see them either and have only
about two seconds to mount, swing
and fire. Maybe you never reckoned
wingshooting an endurance sport,
but here in Argentina it is. Three
days and it shows.
 Poor us, too tired to shoot
anymore. We let the guns cool down
one last time, crack a Quilmes. Back
at the estancia, they have a fire
roaring in the outside pit and the
liquor is going down.
“The girls are coming out from
Cordoba,” Alex announces.
“Who wants a massage?”
Eighteen hands in the air.
T he bus is idling in the driveway.
We powwow with Alex and settle
our shell bill, painful at ten bucks a
box. That’s the way they do it down
here, turn you loose in a blizzard
of birds and keep careful count.
Between the two of us, we have
downed a thousand birds, an affront,
an insult, a mockery. But Alex
acknowledges our sensibilities.
“We have a couple from Sweden
who come every year. They enjoy
themselves but will only shoot five
hundred birds each,” he pauses,
then adds, “a day.”
Halfway to the airport, there is a
monumental jam of trucks and cars
and buses. The campesinos are still
at it. Our driver hooks a hard right
and takes us cross-country. After
three or four miles eating dust, we
are clear of the campesinos and on
the main road again.
Back at our Buenos Aires hotel
we are met by a harried bell
captain who passes us a printed
notice: “There are some issues of
local concern that have prompted
rallies at the Plaza de Mayo . . . ”
We wake next morning to a
rumble as pervasive as ten million
doves cooing, heady as a wind
coming off the Andes. Fifty thousand
campesinos have bolted the pampas
and are heading to the Plaza de
Mayo. Busloads after countless
busloads. Musicians on the back of
flatbed field trucks. Funky little Fiat
sedans with blaring loudspeakers
big as the cars. Meanwhile, the
government has laid off their legions
of clerks, paid them 200 pesos each
to go protest the protestors.
Claudette considers the
proceedings and then glances at the
clock. “We have a couple of hours to
kill. Let’s slip off to some sidewalk
cafe and get us one good last meal
before things bust loose.”
Just a snack, a dozen poached
shrimp on a bed of lettuce, tomatoes
and avocadoes, home-baked bread
and the obligatory local wine. Then
a series of low concussive thumps
comes rolling over the rooftops.
“Hey waiter, what’s all the racket?”
He wrings his hands, mops his brow
and looks uneasily off into middle
distance. “Please do not worry, senor.
It is only the tear gas bombs.”
Ah Argentina, I have what it
takes to love you, a little money, a
little Spanish, a little patience, and
a great sense of humor . . .
Editor’s Note: Roger Pinckney
happily reports a drop of lock-tight
fixed the over-under and there was
nothing at all wrong with the side-
by-side. His hand was so swollen,
it crowded the selector button to
middle position allowing both barrels
to fire simultaneously.
 Craf tsmen By Matt Coffey

Don’t miss your chance to own a piece of history with Among his many achievements
and advancements, Jeffery has
Sporting Classics’ 30th Anniversary bow crafted by built bows for the President of
legendary master bowyer Owen Jeffery. Mexico, the King of Bhutan and

S
porting Classics has long
been known for providing
exceptional, unique
products. From our
limited edition Ancient Cypress
Turkey Calls, to our annual Knife
of the Year, there’s an unmistakable
quality to Sporting Classics’
offerings. So it only makes sense
that our latest product be of fitting
quality and uniqueness.
Wanting to do something a little
different to commemorate our
30th anniversary, we approached
a local master bowyer – a legend
really – about the possibility of
building a limited-edition series
of traditional recurves. What he
came up with is remarkable.
The bowyer is none other than
Owen Jeffery, a man who is
known to those in archery circles
as one of the original masters,
and whose resume reads like a
Who’s Who in the stick-and-
string world. He started with
Hoyt in 1949 and was the
designer for their famous Pro
Medalist competition recurve.
After his 16-year stint at Hoyt,
Jeffery moved to Bear Archery in
1966 – back when Fred Bear still
sat at the head of the conference
table – where he was the vice
president of manufacturing and
was responsible for the redesign
of all Bear recurves in 1967. He
even built the bow Fred Bear
used to kill a 9,000-pound
elephant – a 69-pound recurve.
even the movie industry. Jeffery
was also one of the forward
thinkers who realized stabilizers
were an important part of archery,
having the foresight to use C-
clamps in different places on a
bow to improve stabilization and
accuracy. Throughout his tenured
career, Jeffery estimates he’s built
or overseen the production of
more than 300,000 bows. In short,
if you use a bow of any kind right
now, chances are Owen Jeffery
had something to do with the
origins of it.
“I started using a bow to hunt
around 1935 and there weren’t any
compounds around then,” he said.
“And I’ve been at it ever since.
Using traditional equipment just
seems like the way it ought to be.”
Jeffery, 86, and his son, Tom,
now run an archery shop a mere
20 minutes from Sporting Classics’
headquarters in Columbia, South
Carolina, where they offer not only
custom-made traditional archery

Mrecurve
aster bowyer Owen Jeffery designed our 30th Anniversary
with a zebrawood handle and darker zebrawood
limbs, gold inlay and Eagle’s Flight quiver with four cedar
arrows, two of which have been inverted to show the fletching.
 equipment, but more mainstream
compound bows and accessories.
While the newer bows are a
mainstay of business, it’s the
designing and crafting of the
traditional equipment that makes
the Jeffery shop unique.
For our Sporting Classics’ bow,
the Jefferys pulled out all the
stops. A zebrawood riser
combined with darker zebrawood
limbs make up the basis for the
beautiful bow. The limited-
edition recurve is strung with a
Flemish-style string, adding to
the aesthetics, and comes with
four cedar arrows. To hold the
arrows, the package includes an
Eagle’s Flight 4-arrow quiver with
“Sporting Classics” stamped on
the hood. A circular gold inlay is
fitted into the riser, and around
the larger “SC” in the middle of
the logo, the text reads: “Sporting
Classics * Established 1981 * One
of Thirty.”
“Our Sporting Classics’ bow is
exactly like what I personally
use to hunt,” Tom Jeffery said.
“The longer limbs and shorter
handle on the bow equate to a
smoother draw on a lighter
frame. This particular piece is
also unique because of the way
it showcases the natural curl of
the wood grain. It’s a smooth,
quiet and stable bow. It just
happens to be one of the most
beautiful bows you can put
your hands on.”
This 30th anniversary bow can
be ordered in draw weights from
45 to 55 pounds. Draw weights
will also vary based on draw
length. For those who shoot left
handed, there are a limited
number available on a first-
come, first-served basis.
For only $925, you can own a
piece of history made by a true
archery legend and presented to
you through the nation’s finest
hunting and fishing magazine.
The edition is limited to 30 bows,
so don’t delay. Call (800) 849-1004
to order.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
84
 Lo, the Long Brown Ridges
Edmund Ware Smith
To the deer hunter, sometimes black is white and up is down.
It all depends on your point of view. by

E ven now, I can feel the lucid silence

of a cedar swamp – tomblike, tangled,
ancient as the Book. And above
the swamp the brown ridge rests
in perpetual peace. This is the
ridge eastward of peeled spruce
cabin, whose walls blend more and
more with the surroundings as the
seasons mellow them.
Forty-one steps from the cabin door the waters of
Third Chain Lake have washed the stones and lapped
at the cedar roots for centuries. Evening and morning
in November the white mist coils to catch the sun. You
breathe its almost tangible humidity. You hear the hum
of silence – so imperious that you shame at the drip of
your own paddle or the damp splutter of your pipe.
Across the lake is the greatest of the long brown
ridges – Duck Lake Mountain; and another to the
north; and only to southwest is the skyline low, where
the carry leads to Unknown.
We built the cabin with our own hands in a virgin
stand of pine; and in a northwest wind the great trees
rub against one another, moaning in their topmost
branches, and keeping us fitful in our bunks, thinking
of a headwind paddle next day. We built that cabin –
H. and Roy, and an unknown Indian and I. Particularly,
therefore, are we endeared to the creaky floor, the tar-
smell of the caulking and the graying logs of its walls.
Because always men have pondered preciously the
graces of their own handiwork.
If anyone may be said singly to possess the cabin, it
is H. That is to say, he paid for it. Yet he would hardly
claim it as his own. On the contrary, it possesses him. H.
is older than the rest of us. He is 60, and the wake he has
left behind him in his life is as impressive as the white
track behind a liner. H. is a grandfather, and a great deal
of wisdom has gathered in his head. His interest in all
things on earth is insatiable, and he can love a cloud, a
cardinal flower or a human being – and sometimes he
can almost explain them. He loves to hew with an axe,
and loudly he berates himself when he cuts his knee. He
paddles his own canoe, totes a lion’s share on the carries,

S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
Pals IV-Thanks Dad by thomas Woskia – courtesy wild wings 86
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
87
and he hunts the long brown ridges alone. He asserts
that his miles-per-hour, or his heavy pavement-tread in
the timber, would gutter the chances of a companion in
getting a shot at a deer. But actually, he likes to come
single-handed against the wilderness. Alone, he treads
on no one’s heels, nor waits for the man behind him.
But in hunting alone, H. denies the rest of us the
pleasure of his conversation. We look forward to
evenings in the cabin, wondering what thoughts he may
have had during the day’s hunt.
I
“
believe,” said H., one last night in camp while the
I squeezed the trigger, holding my breath
rain dripped sleepily on the
roof . . . “I believe in a Unity
until I thought my lungs would explode.
of Things.”
“Why?” I asked. If you have had
With the discharge, the rifle jumped in my
no formal training in philosophy,
the word “why” gives you a chance
to array your thoughts. Without
further prompting, H. enlarged hands and the buck vanished into thin air.
upon his theme.
“Everything dovetails too perfectly
for chance,” he said, “running smoothly and perpetually in the
river of cause and effect. For example, I cannot be satisfied
that the great ice sheet, which formed these lakes and ridges
a million years ago, came at the whim of chance. Either the
mind of man was fashioned purposely to regard the lakes and
ridges as perfect, or the lakes and ridges came last, perfectly
formed to man’s eyes. In either case, you have a sort of Unity.”
Roy hung a pair of damp socks on a rafter and got out
his corncob. “I never looked at it like that,” he said. “But I
see how you mean, H. You mean a thing don’t happen just
to suit you, because you might of happened just to suit it,
an’ there’s no telling which.”
I drew an oily rag through the barrel of my Winchester
and tried to think of some argument for the opposition. To
me, it was merely the ancient problem of which came first,
the hen or the egg. But H.’s mind was opening up as free
and hopeful as wind on a hill. His idea of Unity was pleasant
to contemplate, but like all universal speculators, he was
merely taking a shot in the dark at Truth.
“I don’t believe the Unity idea,” I said. “It’s too neat. The
precepts of chance suit me as well. And chance preëmpts
purpose. The whole works just happened, and so did we.
Where’s the need of any ultimate purpose anyway, so long
as each individual clings to his puny private one?”
H. grinned, and I guessed he had been laying a
complicated trap for us, which would gradually lead us into
an illustration from his day’s hunting. Roy drew audibly on
his corncob, and H. smacked his lips, preparing to pounce
from the abstract to the concrete.
“Chance!” he said. “Why, man! If there were any
probability in chance, I would have shot a deer today!”
“Did you?” I said.
“No. But I saw one.”
“Didn’t you shoot?” asked Roy, his pipe forgotten.
S P O R T I N G
88
“No, I didn’t shoot.
“Well, what did you do?”
“I pointed my finger at it!” said H., dramatically.
“Now – do you call that chance? Or purpose?”
I hung my rifle muzzle on a wall peg. “I take it you intended
to shoot the deer?” I said. “But some purpose from a great
exterior stayed your hand, so you pointed your finger instead?”
“Precisely,” H. chuckled. “Absolutely.”
“Huh,” said Roy dryly. “Buck fever, an’ at your age!”
“Indigestion,” said I.
These were lame explanations, and besides we felt there
was considerable more back of the story than met the ear.
Recently, H.
figured up from
old diaries the
number of trips
he had taken
to this country.
Counting
camping trips,
fishing and
hunting trips,
they totaled 80! He had been deer hunting 30 different
seasons, and his record was impressive. Furthermore, he
had never in his life complained of indigestion. He was
evidently getting us into a prearranged corner.
“You claim,” he went on, “that my experience with the
deer this afternoon was an effect, not a cause.”
“Sure it was,” Roy said, nervous to hear the rest.
“Well, it wasn’t,” H. said. “It was both. Moreover, all causes
can be effects, all effects causes.”
Roy turned his wet socks on the rafter so as to dry their other
sides. “It’s all runnin’ off of me like rain off a roof,” he protested.
IN HIS PRIME BY ROSEMARY MILLETTE – COURTESY THE ARTIST AND WILD WINGS, INC.
“It’s getting pretty swampy, at that,” I agreed. “Darn
you H., anyway!”
“On the contrary,” he continued, taking his own time,
“everything becomes quite simple at this point.” Here he
began to make those marvelously expressive gestures with
his hands, lean, squarish hands, which you remember always
when you think of H.
“I pointed at that deer,” he said, “and since you so desire,
we’ll call my gesture an effect produced by cause or causes
unknown. Yet I propose to demonstrate that the effect shall
be proved a cause – you see, it caused me not to shoot that
deer, and it causes us now to sit here pondering the subject.”
In the face of this, Roy and I cheerfully admitted that black
was white and up was down, depending on the point of view.
And we went to our bunks in the shelter of the long brown
ridges, little dreaming of the chain of events crawling toward
us from the future.
But I did dream, just a little. At first I could not get to
sleep. The pine boughs sang above the cabin roof like remote
’cellos. I thought I heard a porcupine prowling in front of the
cabin, and an old doe snorted on the ridge toward Killman
Pond. I fell to pondering our oblique conversation of a
moment before. H.’s pointing his finger at a buck deer was
C L A S S I C S
unusual. At least he had made it sound so; and I knew he felt
it so himself. I set it down as a continuation of the hard luck
that had dogged him through the last three deer seasons.
I still believed in luck, especially in connection with deer
hunting, but I hadn’t reached the point of calling it Fate.
Four seasons ago H. had finished building himself a home.
The dining room is dominated by a huge brick fireplace,
and even a glance at it warms you. The room is paneled with
Pennsylvania chestnut, and the ceiling beams are hand-hewn,
solid and convincing. Above the fireplace is a rectangle of
sacred space, a space where the master of the house would
hang his finest oil
painting – if he
It seemed scarcely sporting to have shot a
buck as handsome as this after having been
were a sportsman
he would hope
in the woods only four hours. I wished H.
for a Benson or a
Winslow Homer.
But in H.’s house,
for some seasons, could have been standing in my moccasins.
the space had
remained vacant.
“I’ll get a buck this fall,” he would say. “I’ll have it mounted by
the finest taxidermist in the world, and I’ll hang it there to last
me when I’m really old and begin to write a book about myself.”
Lying in my bunk, listening to the clumsy maraudings of
the porcupine, I remembered H. standing in front of that
fireplace and staring at the vacant space above the hewn
mantle. One subsequent fall he had stepped on a dead spruce
twig, and his buck had got away clean. The November after
that he had come upon an old gray monarch on the slope of
Dark Cove Mountain when his glasses were so steamed he
couldn’t see to shoot. Last season he had seen only does, and
this year he had pointed his finger! If my belief in luck were
even partly valid, I felt that H. was due for a standing shot at
something weighing close to 300 pounds, with horns to match.
That night in the cabin, when I finally dozed off I dreamed
very dimly of a great-antlered buck in a key-road. Dreams,
I have thought, result from some digestive menace, and are
nothing upon which to base a prognosis. I had eaten some
mince pie of my own devising, which may be reason enough
to cause a dream. When I awoke, it retreated before the
more essential fragrance of the coffee pot.
A
fter breakfast we settled on the day’s hunting
territory. H. guessed he would hunt the base of
the big ridge to the northwest, and Roy decided
he would take me over toward the Second Chain
burn. We separated long before the sun had melted the white
furry frost from the beech leaves underfoot, long before the
old gray trunks had taken on form and substance.
Roy is a native guide, and he can concentrate on deer for
hours. I can’t. Sometimes, looking through the silence at a spruce
tree, I see beneath the bark to the wood, see through the wood
into its fibrovascular bundles, see beyond that toward infinite
divisibility – and this fruitless imagining makes me a poor deer
hunter. This time I came back to earth at a signal from Roy.
S P O R T I N G
90
“Sh-h-h! I hear one.”
I listened, trembling a little, watching Roy’s lynx eyes search
the thickets. What he heard turned out to be a carousing
red squirrel. Roy knows how to keep a hunter hunting!
At the edge of the Second Chain burn, we stopped. This
was my only day in camp, and truly I neither deserved nor
expected to shoot a deer. I carried a rifle for the form of the
thing, and expected to shoot nothing but a porcupine or a
roosting partridge.
“I’m hungry,” I said. It was barely ten o’clock.
“Hungry!” glared Roy. “Hungry! You got a gander-gut!”
“Yes.”
“Well,” he said. “What do you
say we work back to Killman
Pond brook?”
“Are you thirsty?” I asked.
“No, I ain’t. Just seemed
better to eat handy to water.
But I ain’t fussy.”
So we sat together on a
double spruce blowdown and
from our hunting shirt pockets removed two huge liver
sandwiches. They were as thick as sofa pillows. I took a
bite and began to chew industriously.
Roy, too, was in the middle of a mouthful when his eyes
suddenly turned a shade darker. His jaws stopped working.
He braced himself without apparent movement, other than
a slight stiffening of his body. “What was that?”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” I said, my voice muffled by a
full mouth.
“I heard a deer!”
Eighty yards away the spruce bushes trembled. I
concentrated so intensely on the spot that my eyes watered.
Presently the bushes moved again, and a buck stepped
into view, stopped with fore-feet braced, head high and
magnificently alert. He pranced sideways, placing himself
between two small beeches. He was facing me squarely.
“I can see him,” I whispered. “Shall I shoot?”
“Yes,” Roy whispered.
As I reached down for my rifle, I knocked the liver
sandwich off the blowdown. It fell silently, coming apart
on the moss. I cuddled the rifle stock against my cheek and
drew the ivory bead down fine into the rear sight notch. I
squeezed the trigger, holding my breath until I thought my
lungs would explode. With the discharge, the rifle jumped
in my hands, and the buck vanished into thin air.
“Never touched him,” I said.
“You got him,” said Roy.
My nostrils twitched at the whiff of powder smoke. I
drew down the lever of my rifle and jacked in another
cartridge. Lifting our feet high, like a couple of old cock
partridges, we moved cautiously toward where the
buck had been standing. He lay stone dead underneath
the beech trees, and I don’t think he had taken a single
step after I fired.
Roy stood looking down at the deer. “I haven’t seen a
C L A S S I C S
 better head come out of the woods
in ten seasons,” he said. The spikes
were unusually long, the horns
and points well formed, and not so
symmetrical as to be uninteresting.
But I was thinking of chance, or
luck if you prefer. A woods appetite
at ten in the morning had been in
charge of things – not a trained still-
hunter. It seemed scarcely sporting
to have shot a buck as handsome
as this after having been in the
woods only four hours. H. had been
in for two weeks, and I wished he
could have been standing in my
moccasins. This buck deserved that
space above his fireplace.
“Roy,” I said, as we lashed the
deer to a couple of dry spruce poles,
“a fellow with my luck doesn’t have
much use for brains, does he?”
“No,” he replied, unhesitatingly.
“You don’t even see a buck like this
once in five years, let alone a standing
shot!” He finished a complicated knot
in the lashings and strapped on his
belt axe.
“I wish H. had been here. I’d have
passed him my rifle, honest I would.”
“He wouldn’t of took it,” Roy said.
“He’d ruther you got a deer than to get
one himself. That’s his way.”
“But he’s had four years of hard luck.”
“His luck’ll turn,” said Roy. “You
mind what I say.”
We got the sling poles to our
shoulders and toted the deer down
along the ridge toward camp. It was
two o’clock when we got in. We were
pretty well fagged. H. was waiting for
us – empty-handed. His eyes danced
with delight as he helped us down with
the deer. He fingered the horns and
counted the points.
“Great work! Oh, simply great!”
We told our tale, and H. beamed,
and I had no heart to ask him about
his day on the big ridge to the
northwest. He saved me the trouble
by saying he hadn’t seen hide, hoof
or hair. It didn’t seem to bother him
in the least. He spoke of the beauty
of the long brown ridges, and never
mentioned luck. We got a late lunch,
and made it a kind of banquet. It was
the last day of hunting.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
92
T hat afternoon Roy stayed in the cabin to pack
up, and H. asked me to go with him for the last
two hours of daylight. He knew I didn’t like to
hunt alone. We took a canoe and crossed the lake
toward the great ridge beyond which vanishes the sun in
fall. We hauled the canoe into the brush over the seawall
and struck out afoot through the darkling cedars.
There’s something sobering about the last afternoon of
the last day in camp. There are long-fingered shadows, and a
hovering chill, which remind you that your freedom here is at
I suddenly remembered my dream
an end. A hint of
the first big snow
of a buck in a key-road, and my
loiters in the vault
above, and on
scalp prickled. Could I have
the deadwaters
dreamed this creature into reality?
the black ice lies
sinister. Another
week, another
day, and the forest
will be smothered
white and lonely in deep snow, without a man-track on its
vastness. You long to stay, but may not. You want to desert, but
something mocks you, daring you to stay and try your steel.
I could see H.’s breath puffing white over the shoulder of
his faded hunting shirt. I could see the little white circle on the
receiver of his rifle, where Roy had wound the sling ring with
twine so that it wouldn’t jingle. H. tested the wind, looked at
his compass, and jacked a cartridge into the chamber of his
rifle. He let the hammer down to half-cock, and went on. I
followed closely. H. could talk all he wished of cause and effect
and Unity. But when a good hunter goes four years without
one good chance, he’s under the spell of foul fortune.
We struck a key-road, long years abandoned by
lumbermen, and turned north by west, upwind. There
was ritual in this last short hour of hunting. I felt a faint
shame at deserting the tired old forest just when winter was
preparing a siege. I can see it all as plain as writing: a winding
trail, interrupted by mouldering blowdowns, untracked by
human feet. On one side the trail was flanked by a sepulchral
cedar swamp extending back to the seawall; on the other
by regiments of spruce and beech – the sloping forefoot of
Duck Lake Mountain. Deep in here the sun had vanished,
challenged and beaten by shadow – all except one urchin
shaft of gold, which had tunneled a rift in the cedars. As I
watched, the shaft appeared to flicker, and I stopped in my
tracks. There was no wind to wave the dead ferns at the edge
of the trail where the light had fallen!
H., too, saw the motion. His left hand stiffened toward
me, commanding silence. We knelt there on a little knoll, and
watched the most magnificent buck step into view. I suddenly
remembered my dream of a buck in a key-road, and my scalp
prickled. Could I have dreamed this creature into reality?
He was near enough for me to count his points and guess a
mammoth spread, and he stood so that the shaft of sunlight
drew a gold halation around him.
H. brought his rifle to his shoulder, and I waited for the
S P O R T I N G
94
report. Plenty of time – an easy, standing shot of less than 60
yards. My head was inches from H.’s right ear. “Go ahead and
shoot!” I whispered.
H. lifted his cheek off the stock, looked long at the buck,
and smiled. He brought the rifle into position again, and still
the deer didn’t know we were there!
“Hurry!” I hissed, as quietly as possible. I was shaking, as
Roy expresses it, like a chicken’s foot in the mud.
H. was grinning quite broadly now – and again he had
taken the rifle from firing position. My heart whacked hard
against my ribs. I was panicky,
then dumbfounded as H. let
the hammer down to half cock,
deliberately raised his right arm –
and pointed his finger at the buck!
Oh vacant place above the
chestnut mantel! Oh chance, Oh
luck, beyond wildest imaginings!
Who would have passed it up so
serenely, but H.? The buck caught
the motion of H.’s arm in a flash. His head jerked toward us,
high, startled, fine. We took each a breath-halting swallow of
his majesty before he cleared an eight-foot blowdown and was
gone, flying his flag in our faces!
“What the devil ails you, H.?” I cried. “You’ll never see
another like that in a lifetime!”
“It was too far,” said H. softly.
“It was an easy shot, and you know it!” I wanted to take off
my hat and jump on it.
“I might have missed,” said H.
“You couldn’t have missed!”
“Well,” he chuckled, “I did!”
“But, H.! He belonged over your fireplace.”
“You know,” he said. “I’m not so sure. I think he belongs
right here – where he is. I simply couldn’t bear to change the
picture of him here. I don’t know why. I never will – except
that trophies at my age are not so much to brag about, as to
remember by. And I’ll remember that old fellow, just as we
saw him. Never fear.”
I understood. All I had to do was look around me at the
darker twilight in the cedars, the sky at peace with everything
under it, the gray moss bearding the trees with prehistoric
gravity, the glow on the lake that lingered rather than depart.
This was where the buck with the gold light over him belonged.
But I got a fine taxidermist to mount the head of my buck
from the Second Chain burn, and I gave the mount to H.
It hangs over his mantel in the dining room.
Editor’s Note: “Lo, the Long Brown Ridges” is from
A Tomato Can Chronicle by Edmund Ware Smith, first
published in 1937 and reprinted in 1991 by The Derrydale
Press. This material is protected by copyright. All rights
reserved. Published by permission of The Derrydale Press.
A wonderful read from cover to cover, the ’91 reprint
of A Tomato Can Chronicle is still available. To order, call
800-462-6420 or visit www.rlpgtrade.com.
C L A S S I C S
Kimber’s lovely, lively Model 84L Classic Select Grade, offered
in calibers such as .270 Win. and .30-06 Spfd., weighs just
6 pounds, 2 ounces.

S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
170
 O
Trendsetters
By Ron Spomer

The latest lineup of sporting rifles and ammo

targets hunters’ concerns
target hunters’ concerns for
for the
the ultimate
accuracy and dependability.
ultimate in
in

ur mates are probably correct. We don’t need a new rifle.

But that’s not the point. It’s not a question of need. It’s
fulfillment of desire. Some people enjoy model trains and
golf. They don’t stop with one engine and one club. Bikers
don’t pedal the same Trek they bought 30 years ago. Rifles
change, improve. We change with them.

B. Searcy & Co. Always expensive, complex and strong,
the 1879 Rigby/Bissel “rising bite” locking action for double rifles
hasn’t been manufactured since 1920 – unless you count the
sidelock .470 NE Butch Searcy built and displayed at the 2010
SCI show in Reno last January. The rifle sports a third fastener, a
top bite that minimizes the effects of torque, which can eventually
cause gapping between action face and barrel with high-pressure
cartridges. The Bissel top bite provides lateral stability to prevent
this. Searcy reverse engineered an original Rigby/Bissel to program
his CAM machine for cutting the new action. The first rifle is being
retained as a pattern, but the next one out of the blocks and for sale
is a .450 NE. To follow will be custom orders in your choice of .375
H&H Flanged, .450 NE, .450/400 3-inch, .470 NE and .500 NE
3- and 3¼-inch. All rifles will feature monoblock construction, double
triggers, non-automatic safety and ejectors, and 24- or 26-inch
barrels. Chopper lump barrels available at additional charge.
Benelli. Winchester rifles got all the attention, but Colt also
made lever-actions in the late 1800s. Well, one rifle. It was the 1879
patent Burgess Model 1883, quite good and quite similar to the
Winchesters of the time. But only 6,400 were ever made. Until now.
Benelli’s Uberti division now offers the M1883 Colt Burgess in
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
171

.45 Long Colt with 20- or 25.5-inch octagonal barrel, steel
adjustable buckhorn rear sight, A-grade walnut stock and case-
colored receiver. The magazine holds 10 or 13 rounds, based
on barrel length. The rifles weigh 7.6 and 8.1 pounds.
It was rumored back in 1883 that Winchester threatened to
build revolvers if Colt didn’t stop making lever actions, but it’s
equally likely that Colt decided the lever market was saturated.
Shortly after stopping production of the Burgess, it announced its
slide-action Lightning rifle. Uberti builds new versions of those, too.
Also new is the reproduction M1871 Rolling Block first made
by Remington in 1867. It’s referred to as the 1871, because
that’s when Springfield began making them for the U.S. military.
Uberti’s rifles are one-third smaller in size and weight than the
originals, thanks to today’s better steels. The rifles are strong
enough to use with today’s higher pressure, smokeless powder
loads in .45-70, .30-30 and .38-55. The single-shot sports a
case-colored receiver mated to a 20-inch round barrel and
A-grade walnut stock. Weight is just 4.4 pounds!
Benelli’s new MR1, chambered in 5.56mm (.223 Rem.),
features the ultra-reliable ARGO (Auto-Regulating-Gas-
Operated) system. All steel parts are black phosphated,
while aluminum parts are hard-anodized in a matte finish.
The MR1 comes with a 5-round magazine, but it can accept
standard M16/AR15 magazines. A Picatinny rail allows
mounting of both conventional and night-vision sights.
Best of the West/Gunwerks. I thought Gunwerks’ shooting
system was as gimmicky as its name when I first saw it in 2006. But
it’s not. Those boys in Burlington, Wyoming, know their ballistics,
rifles and ammunition. And they know how to make it all work
S P O R T I N G
172
as a smooth unit in their long-range shooting system rifles and
scopes. The flagship LR-1000 rifle is a complete shooting system
with a custom-tuned, match grade, synthetic-stocked bolt action
fitted with a Huskemaw 5-20X50mm scope with custom turret
dials matched to the trajectory of that rifle/cartridge/bullet. The
Gunwerks builders break in the barrels and gather actual ballistics/
trajectory data in the field to create the custom BDC turrets to
fit your handloads or their Long Range ammunition.
In addition to the LR-1000 rifles, there is the LR-Carbon
version with carbon fiber barrel that knocks two pounds off
overall weight. The LR-Rem. Shooting System starts with a
Remington M700 action blueprinted and fitted with match
barrel, trigger and H-S Precision stock. Coming soon: long-
range rimfire rifle, Ultimate Lightweight Long Range rifle
and even a 500-yard muzzleloader system.
Blaser/Sauer/Mauser. The R8 is the trendsetter at Blaser
this year. It’s a beefed up, improved R-93 with some significant
changes. We’ll be reviewing the rifle in detail soon, so we’ll keep
this brief. The R8 has better lines, a stronger radial locking action,
the same fast, straight pull and an increased modular design. The
entire trigger group can be dropped out along with the magazine
for easy loading and complete safety. And it’s an excellent,
adjustable trigger that breaks crisply and consistently. A test
model on hand is shooting ½ MOA with factory ammunition.
Sauer is singing the praises of its weatherproof S202
Yukon and Polar models. Both are based on the standard
202 six-lug, 60-degree-lift bolt action mated to 20- or 22-inch
barrels, fluted or standard without open sights chambered
in .270 Win., 7x64, .308 Win, .30-06, 8x57 and 9.3x62. The
weatherproofing comes in the form of synthetic stocks and
a unique Camoflon coating. This coating is sprayed on,
then baked to an impervious hardness to protect the metal
underneath. The stocks feature a Monte Carlo comb and
anti-slip “Soft Touch” coating. Realtree AP and AP Snow are
C L A S S I C S
the two available patterns.
If you’ve heard rumors that Mauser no longer even builds
rifles on the Mauser 98 action, forget them. The Mauser 98
is alive and well, just built with modern steels and modern
machinery for better performance than ever. The M98s come
in walnut and blued steel with three locking lugs (one at
the rear below the bolt handle), 3-position wing safety, claw
extractor, blade ejector, double square bridge and all the rest.
The reason the rumors began is because Mauser has been pushing
its modern Model 03 action, a modular system in which barrels and
bolt heads can easily be exchanged for increased versatility. A six-lug
lock-up provides a short 60-degree bolt lift. A 2-position wing safety
actually takes the rifle from uncocked to cocked status, so it’s more
than a safety. The newest M 03 is the Extreme with plasma-nitrated
steel mated to a high-density, shatter-free synthetic stock with
stippled elastic inlays for a secure grip in any weather.
Browning. The company’s new X-Bolt line will be expanded
with the White Gold model. It features a stainless steel receiver
S P O R T I N G
173
From top: Remington’s classic Model 700 CDL SF Limited
Edition is chambered in .280 Rem. and features the X-Mark
Pro adjustable trigger. • Sauer’s S202 Yukon can be ordered
with either 20- or 22-inch barrels and Realtree’s AP pattern.
• The White Gold, available in 14 different calibers, is the
newest addition to Browning’s popular X-Bolt line. • Based
on a Remington 700 SCRII action, Hill Country’s Harvester is
fully accurized and is pillar and glass bedded. • Kilimanjaro
chambers its new custom Doctari safari rifle in .416 Rigby,
.450 Rigby, .458 Lott and .505 Gibbs. • Blaser’s R8 is a beefed
up R-93 but with better lines and a stronger radial locking
action. • Jarrett Rifles is offering its Windwalker and several
other custom models in a new Tri-Lock left-hand version.
C L A S S I C S
with polished finish that will include
scroll engraving on front and rear of
the receiver. The barrel is also stainless
steel with gloss finish and target
crown. The Monte Carlo-style stock is
gloss-finished, checkered walnut with
rosewood fore-end grip and pistol grip
cap. Available in 14 popular calibers
from .243 Win. through .338 Win. Mag.
and weighing from 6.5 to 7 pounds.
The X-Bolt hasn’t put its predecessor
out to pasture by any means. It’s been
25 years since Browning unveiled the
A-Bolt, so they’re celebrating with a
limited number of commemorative 25th
Anniversary A-Bolts adorned with a special
engraving on the floorplate. A complete
line of standard A-Bolts is still offered,
with the newest being a sweet 5.5-pound
Mountain Ti in Mossy Oak Break-Up
camo over a Bell and Carlson synthetic
stock covered in Dura-Touch armor
coating. A stainless steel barrel on the
titanium action makes this an ideal nasty
weather tool. Available in seven calibers.
When it comes to modern lever-
actions, Browning leads the field with its
stacked magazine BLR series chambered
for cartridges from .223 Rem. to .300
Win. Mag. This year the Lightweight ’81
Stainless Takedown model features an
aircraft-grade alloy receiver in satin
nickel finish matched to a matte-
finished stainless steel barrel, and a satin
finished, gray laminated stock. For
traditionalists, there’s a walnut-
stocked version. The rifles
weigh from 6.5 to
7.7 ounces.
This Verney-Carron AZUR Eloge side-by-side, which was awaiting final touches at this
writing, can be ordered with Damascus steel. • B. Searcy built this .470 NE sidelock
using the Rigby/Bissel “rising bite” locking action.
S P O R T I N G
174
Detachable magazines hold four to
five rounds, depending on caliber.
The 20- to 24-inch barrels are fitted
with Truglo/Marble’s fiber-optic sights.
Receivers are ready for scope mounts.
Cooper Firearms. Within a
relatively short two decades of existence,
Cooper Firearms of Montana has
established itself as one of the leaders
in the design and production of
exceptionally high-quality rifles. Located
in the small western town of Stevensville,
the company’s primary goal has always
been to produce rifles that were pleasing
to the eye, while being the most accurate
production rifles in the U.S.
Their newest design is the Cooper
Model 54 repeater, dedicated to the
.243/22-250 family of cartridges.
Chambered in .22-250, the rifle is styled
along the lines of the Cooper Varminter.
After firing hundreds of rounds with
his Model 54, international gunwriter
Thomas C. Tabor wrote: “I have no
hesitation in saying that this rifle is one
of the best varmint rifles I have ever
shot or owned.”
Empire Rifles. A custom maker
of premium hunting rifles, Empire is
C L A S S I C S
now offering the 99 Carbine, built with a
reworked vintage Savage 99 lever action.
It’s available in modern calibers, including
.250-3000, 7mm-08, .308 and .338 Federal.
Empire cleans, polishes and trues
each 99 action, then adds a beautiful
stock handcrafted to your specifications.
Empire Rifles has improved stock
dimensions, raising the comb for proper
sight alignment and enhanced aesthetics.
Standard features include deluxe
walnut stock, cheekpiece with
shadowline, 24 LPI checkering, match
grade barrel, weatherproof coating on
metal and case-colored lever. Options
include different sights, bluing and
engraving. All 99 Carbines are guaranteed
to place three shots of factory hunting
ammo under 1 inch at 100 yards.
Griffin & Howe. Steeped in
history and tradition, Griffin & Howe’s
custom rifle designs have proven to be
the industry standard for the past 87
years. Last year’s creation, No. 2381, was
unveiled – and quickly purchased – at the
Dallas Safari Club exhibition.
Griffin & Howe’s newest rifle will be
built on an original Mauser-Werke A:
G Oberndorf action in .250 Savage. No.
2382 will debut at the Dallas Safari Club
show on January 6. Like its predecessors,
the rifle will showcase the talents of
Westley Richards has introduced this .577 3-inch to its line of double rifles. Already
available are .470 and .500 3-inch. • Krieghoff’s new Essencia single-shot features
a lovely case-color hardened finish and fine Turkish walnut.
S P O R T I N G
175
artisans who are proud of their long
association with the iconic company.
The new rifle will have a meticulously
fitted 22-inch Douglas premium barrel,
hand-stippled G&H ¼ rib, and one
standing, two folding leaf express sights
regulated to 100, 200 and 300 yards. Other
features include: barrel band, banded ramp
front sight with hood, quick-release trigger
guard, polished slow rust bluing, burnished
bolt knob follower, raceway pistol grip
cap and G&H Quick Detachable mount.
The classic stock will be fine walnut with
a cheekpiece, Best London oil finish and
22 lines-per-inch checkering. The G&H
checkered 5-panel bolt knob will be
beautifully engraved with rose petals and
the fore-end will be ebony-tipped. The
buyer will have his choice of scope.
Henry Repeating Arms. In honor
of America’s servicemen and women,
Henry is offering the commemorative
Golden Boy “Military Service” Tribute
Edition. This beautiful, heirloom-quality
rifle features a polished nickel-plated
receiver adorned with deeply etched,
patriotically themed scrollwork. The right
side showcases intricate scrolling and the
American bald eagle in 24-karat gold as
well as a shield bearing the inscription:
“In Recognition of Military Service to
Our Great Country.” The left side
is embellished with the Statue of
Liberty and the Liberty Bell,
also in gold. The Stars and
Stripes and a golden banner
with the words “God
Bless America” are
laser etched into
C L A S S I C S
From top: Turnbull Manufacturing Co. restored this exquisite
Winchester Model 1886, which showcases the original #6 factory
engraving pattern. • Henry Repeating Arms is offering this
stunning Golden Boy “Military Service” Tribute Edition rifle
with gold inlays. • Benelli’s Uberti Division chambers its new
M1871 Rolling Block in .45-70, .30-30 and .38-55. • Rossi’s
new .30-30 Rio Grande features authentic buckhorn sights.
the American walnut stock and hand-painted in brilliant red, white
and blue. The seals of the U.S. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine
Corps and Coast Guard are inscribed into the forearm and hand-
painted with gold fill. The 6 ¾-pound rifle is designed for .22 Short,
Long and Long Rifle.
A portion of the proceeds from the sale of each rifle
will be donated to the American Legion, the Veterans
of Foreign Wars, the Wounded Warrior Project and the
Fisher House for military families.
Hill Country Rifles. Wood-stocked rifles, synthetic-stocked
rifles, fully custom rifles, accurizing services – for 60 years Hill
Country Rifles has done it all, and they aren’t slowing down. You
need a trigger tuned, a new stock, muzzlebrake, blueprinting job
or an entire custom rifle, their talented smiths can do it.
For 2010, Hill Country has expanded its economical
Harvester lineup to include sporting, tactical and dangerous
game rifles. The Harvester rifle combines factory-barreled
actions with a wide range of McMillan stocks. The rifle is
based on a Remington 700 XCRII with a rust-proof black
Trynite metal finish. It’s fully accurized, with aluminum pillar
and glass bedding, 3.0-pound trigger, barrel break-in, and
is guaranteed to shoot 3-shot, sub-inch groups at 100 yards
with factory ammunition. At $1,895, the Harvester delivers
custom rifle accuracy at a more economical cost.
Holland & Holland. You have to look long and hard to find
a cartridge that has spawned more offshoots then the .375 H&H.
S P O R T I N G
177
From it have come the .264, .300 and .338 Winchester Magnums;
6.5, 7mm and .350 Remington Magnums, many of the Weatherby
Magnums and more. Not bad progeny for a cartridge born in 1912.
To commemorate this venerable round, H&H is offering
its “1912-2012 Centenary Model” limited-edition bolt-action
rifle series, serial numbers 4901-4925. These will be takedown
models built on the Mauser 98-style action with 3-position
wing safety, H&H trigger, 24-inch barrels with ¾ Spearpoint
Rib and fore-sight block with folding protector. The rear sight
will be a fixed blade for 100 yards and two folding leaves for 200
and 300 yards. Stocks will be carved from deluxe grade walnut
with classic grip and ebony fore-end tip. The Spearpoint
block and barrel will be engraved with deluxe fine scroll and
the Holland & Holland name and address, caliber, and a brief
description of the commemorative rifle, all inlaid in gold. The
serial number will also be inlaid with gold on the trigger guard,
and the rear sights will feature inlaid gold pyramid aiming points.
The entire rifle will be presented in a traditional dark brown oak
and leather case complete with H&H cleaning tools.
Jarrett Rifles. The smooth, quick Jarrett Tri-Lock
receiver/actions are now being offered in a “mirror image”
left-hand version, including left-hand cocking shroud threads
for smooth cocking and de-cocking. Southpaws can now
enjoy the superior design, materials and workmanship of a
Jarrett Tri-Lock bolt-action with its 60-degree bolt throw.
Three lugs make the short throw possible. The new left-
handed Tri-Locks can be had on all Signature, RidgeWalker,
WindWalker and Professional Hunter rifles, and all come
with the Jarrett guarantee: Inspect and use the rifle for
30 days. If not pleased, return for a full refund.
C L A S S I C S
 Rtensile
izzini USA builds its new Express 90L from high-
steel that can withstand the pressures of
modern cartridges. • The new Mauser M 03 “Big Five” is decorated
with arabesque engravings on the action and with beautifully engraved
dangerous game animals on the floorplate.

Kilimanjaro. Since taking over Serengeti Rifles and changing the name to
Kilimanjaro, President Erik Eike remains committed to producing the finest custom
rifles possible, and he has the same laminated Stealth Stock technology that made
Serengeti rifles so strong, gorgeous and dependable. Completely new is the Doctari,
the ultimate safari rifle with stock geometry by Kevin “Doctari” Robertson of Africa.
It’s chambered in .416 Rigby, .450 Rigby, .458 Lott and .505 Gibbs. Meanwhile,
progress continues on Kilimanjaro’s new proprietary bolt actions expected to be
officially released at the 2011 SHOT and SCI shows. Stay tuned.
Kimber. Elegant, lovely, trim, lively. Take your pick when describing the new Kimber
Model 84L. At a mere 6 pounds, 2 ounces, this is no stub of a rifle, but a full, 24-inch
barreled shooter in .270 Win. or .30-06. That long tube twists extra feet-per-second
from every round. Beautiful, but not extravagant, straight-grained, hand-rubbed oil-
finished AA-grade French walnut in the Classic Select Grade with ebony fore-end tip
and 20 LPI hand-cut checkering contrast with the matte blued barrel-action to make
this one of those instant classics. Most impressive to this reviewer was the rifle’s balance
and feel. It carries easily, rises to the shoulder naturally and points effortlessly. And you
give up nothing in firepower. The staggered magazine holds five rounds.
Like all Kimber M84s, it has the controlled-round feed action with the big Mauser-style
claw extractor and fixed blade ejector, 3-position wing safety, aluminum pillar and glass
bedding, and free-floating match barrels. The straight stock lines and 1-inch Pachmayr
Decelerator pad tame recoil beautifully, even with full-house 180-grain .30-06 loads.
Krieghoff. Single-shot rifles may never replace repeaters on the pop charts –
except in the hearts of those who’ve tried them. Something about the simplicity,
elegance and challenge of the single-shot rifle makes them beloved of discerning
shooters and consummate game-stalkers. A perfect, one-shot kill is their goal,
and the single-shot rifle is their badge of commitment.
The new Essencia Single-shot combines tradition, elegance and premium
quality in a break-action rifle. Designed on the elegant Essencia Genuine 28-gauge
frame, the newest addition to Krieghoff’s Hunting Gun line features distinctive
fine English scroll engraving on a lovely case-colored hardened finish.
Lightweight and sleek, the Essencia features sidelock construction and an
octagonal barrel. It’s available in standard calibers ranging from .22-250 Rem. to
.30-06 and European calibers ranging from 6.5x65R to 9.3x74R. Stocked with fine
Turkish walnut with cheekpiece and splinter Schnabel fore-end, this elegant beauty
makes a fine addition to any gun collection.
Legacy Sports. Dangerous game rifles haven’t traditionally been available at entry-
level prices, but the Howa/Hogue .375 Ruger Rifle is. Just $550 gets you a basic, blued
chromoly barrel M1500 with push-feed action with 20- or 24-inch barrel chambered
for Ruger’s standard-length answer to the .375 H&H Magnum. A stainless steel barrel
pushes the price up $100. The rifle’s .30-06-length action easily handles this nifty new
round, which duplicates or slightly exceeds .375 H&H performance. The rifle comes
drilled and tapped for scope-mounting, but also sports Hi-Vis No. 3 rear and front sights.
The substantial stock comes in black or green, both with that famous Hogue non-slip
grip. The rifles have already been proven on North American bison and elk.
Replacing the old TH Varminter Supreme is the Howa Thumbhole Varminter.
This is the M1500 barreled action set in an S&K Gunstocks laminated,
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
178
skeletonized thumbhole stock with
wide, flat fore-end and two front studs
for attaching both sling and bipod. Barrels are 24 inches,
chromoly or stainless steel in .204 Ruger, .223 Rem.,
.22-.250 Rem., .243 Win. and .308 Win. A skeletonized
thumbhole with more traditional fore-end is mated to
a sporter-weight barreled action in the new 8-pound
Thumbhole Sporter models. Available in 13 calibers.
Mossberg. Mossberg has been doing well with its 4x4 and
100ATR bolt-action rifles. This year they should do even better
because they’re offering fluted barrels, muzzlebrakes and three
new WSM calibers: .270, 7mm and .300 Winchester Short
Magnum. The fluted and braked barrels are available on most
models, but the short-mag. chamberings are limited to a few
Sculpted Stock and Skeletonized Stock models. The rifles weigh
between 6.75 and 7 pounds, and barrels run 22 or 24 inches. All
are come with Weaver-Style scope mount bases and the excellent
LBA adjustable trigger. Four-by-four models use a detachable
box magazine and ATR models a blind magazine.
Remington. The new Model 700 CDL SF Limited Edition
in .280 Remington isn’t in keeping with today’s fashion for high tech
and “tactical” everything, but it is in keeping with classic bolt-action
design, slightly updated for performance, rather than cosmetics.
The rifle consists of a classically shaped, satin-finished walnut stock
with tasteful checkering, ebony fore-end and hinged floorplate.
The stainless steel, fluted barrel and X-Mark Pro adjustable trigger
are Remington’s nod to modernity. Everything else is pretty much
classic Remington M700. The magazine holds three rounds of
one of the most efficient 7mm cartridges ever produced, and the
24-inch barrel will wring out virtually all of its velocity potential.
Another Remington newcomer is the Model 700 XCR II,
an upgrade on the original XCR. Again, here is the venerable
M700 action, the X-Mark Pro trigger, the hinged floorplate
magazine and everything else you expect in a M700, but
the barreled action is treated with Big Green’s proprietary
TriNyte Corrosion Control System. This means the already
weather-resistant, stainless steel action and barrel are further
protected by a matte black TriNyte finish. Not only does this
dull the stainless flash, but actually exceeds its corrosion and
scratch resistance. Fittingly, this is all screwed to a synthetic
O.D. green stock with Hogue over-molding grips. The rifles
are chambered for a wide range
of cartridges, from .25-06 Rem.
Empire Rifles builds its new 99 Carbine on a reworked vintage Savage 99 lever action.
It’s available in several modern calibers.
S P O R T I N G
180
Griffin & Howe’s No. 2381 (top) earned rave reviews at last year’s
Dallas Safari Club show. This year’s custom rifle, No. 2382, was still
in the white when this issue went to press. It’s built on an original
Mauser-Werke A:G Oberndorf action and features a 22-inch Douglas
premium barrel with one standing and two folding leaf express sights.
through .375 Rem. Ultra Mag.
My third pick of the litter is the M700 VTR A-TACS with
its unique camo pattern and wild triangular barrel. The barrel
is reportedly as stiff as standard barrels, but lighter. An integral,
top-venting brake minimizes muzzle jump of the 22-inch barrel
in .223 Rem. and .308 Win. The synthetic stock has the wide,
flat fore-end with cooling vents and two swivel mounts.
Rizzini USA. The new Express 90L rifle is made from
high-tensile steel designed to withstand the pressures of
modern cartridges. Hand-finished and properly regulated, the
rifle features a stock of select European walnut with a shadow
cheekpiece and barrels that are drilled and tapped for scope
mounts. The 90L, which has a single trigger, automatic ejectors,
a rubber recoil pad and pierced top lever, comes in 7x65 R, 8x57
JRS, 9.3x74 R, .30-06, .308 Win, .444 Marlin and .30 R Blaser.
Backed by more than 30 years of experience, B. Rizzini
USA builds every gun part to withstand the most demanding
hunting situations.
Rossi. The Winchester Model 92 lives again at Rossi in a
variety of styles and finishes. The sweet-handling lever actions
are offered in walnut with blued steel action/barrel or stainless
action/barrel. All butts are crescent and capped with a steel
plate. Ramped rear and blade front sights are standard, but
barrels come in 16 or 20 inches for quick work in heavy
cover. Calibers include .38/.357, .44 Rem. Mag., .45 Colt,
.44-40 Win. and .454 Casull. The big Casull features an
optional magazine-tube loading port and a recoil pad.
New this year is Rossi’s high-performance Rio Grande in
.30-30 Win., a 6+1 lever action with authentic buckhorn sights and
a beautiful hardwood finish. The rifle’s side ejection port allows
the scope to be mounted in the natural position, and the scope
mount base and hammer extension are included. These hand-
C L A S S I C S
assembled and tuned rifles are available
in deep blue or polished stainless steel,
in addition to Realtree APG HD camo.
The company is now offering a free
one-year NRA Junior Membership with
the purchase of any Rossi youth model.
Savage. Savage continues to release
more rifles in its revolutionary AccuStock
handles. This year a 9-pound varmint
rifle, the Model 12 FCV in .204 Ruger,
.223 Remington and .22-250 Remington,
all with 22-inch, heavy-contour barrels,
rides the impressive AccuStock. What
makes it accurate is a wedge that tightens
the recoil lug into an aluminum rail
embedded the length of the fore-end
of the synthetic stock. The barrel itself
is free floating. The wedge tightens
the barreled action consistently in all
directions, not just up and down as in
traditional recoil/action bolts. The M12
FCV also uses the superb AccuTrigger,
which can be user-adjusted down to as
little as 6 ounces in target models.
The Model 10 Predator is now offered
in an AccuStock, Accutrigger, short
action, detachable magazine format with
Advantage Max 1 synthetic stock and
medium-contour, fluted, 22 inch barrel.
For some serious, long-range fun,
try the new M110 BA in the Law
Enforcement series. Chambered in
.300 Win. Mag. and .338 Lapua, this
is one big, clunky, ugly rifle – until you
shoot it. Then it performs beautifully.
Adjustable butt and comb, extended
pistol grip, 5-round detachable
magazine, all-aluminum AccuStock,
AccuTrigger and enough Picatinny
rails to build a model railroad. This is
your rifle for 1,000-yard targets.
If you’re into rimfires and racy stocks,
check out the Mark II BSEV with its wild,
parti-colored laminated stock and fluted
stainless barrel in .22 LR. The Model 93
is its spittin’ image in .22 Magnum.
Turnbull Manufacturing Co.
Something different has always been
the way, the truth and the life at Doug
Turnbull Restoration Inc., which recently
changed its name as above. Rather than
build from scratch, Doug and his crew
painstakingly restore classics, especially
lever actions, to better-than-new quality.
To see a fully turned out Turnbull lever
action is to behold the pinnacle of lever-
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
181
rifle creation. They look better than they
work and they work to perfection. This
year they begin “Extreme Makovers” of
recent vintage USRAC M92 lever guns,
just as they did with the M86 last year.
They’ll use original Winchester Highly
Finished Arms engraving patterns. See
’em to believe ’em.
Verney-Carron. The oldest
gunmaker in France continues to
expand and improve its line of made-to
order-rifles with new calibers, actions
and expanded options.
S P
New calibers include the .303 British
and the innovative .375R Verney-Carron
for SXS Safari series rifles. The .375R V-C
offers improved extraction/ejection with a
rimmed case, and significantly improves
both velocity and energy when compared
with the rimless, belted .375 H&H case.
The SX line of over-and-under rifles will
also be offered in .450-400 3-inch NE.
A set trigger and a stalking/bolted
safety can now be special-ordered for
the AZUR Model SXS rifle. Modern
Damascus steel, combining both beauty
O R T I N G C L A S S I
182
and strength is available.
Verney-Carron’s new bolt-action
Safari rifle can be ordered in .416 Rigby
and other calibers on request. Made of
the finest modern materials, the rifle
replicates the pre-war Mauser double
square bridge action that over time has
become the standard that other bolt
action systems are measured against.
The AZUR triple lock action is now
available in a traditional single-shot,
break-action stalking rifle. It’s offered
with a traditional safety with ejector, or
with extractors and a manual cocking
device located on the top tang, in
the position usually occupied by a
conventional safety.
Westley Richards. New this year
are the first of the .470 NE sidelock
ejector double rifles. These incorporate
Westley Richards’ distinctive lever work
and model C Doll’s head top fastener. All
the desired features of a heavy-recoiling
double rifle are included: intercepting
safeties, articulated front trigger, selective
ejectors and standing express sight with
one folding leaf regulated at 50/100 yards.
The fore-end is attached via a Deeley
catch. As one would expect from a “Best”
sidelock double rifle, these will feature
deluxe wood, fine scroll engraving,
extended top strap and that famous
Westley Richards double gun accuracy.
Calibers up to .600 NE. are optional.
Also new is a fixed lock double
rifle in .577 with 3-inch chambering.
These less expensive fixed locks still
have selective ejectors, Deely fore-end
attachment, express sights with one
folding leaf and many options, but the
actions do not include intercepting
safeties nor articulated front trigger.
Winchester Repeating Arms.
The line of “new” Model 70s has grown
with the addition of the Safari Express rifle
in .375 H&H, .416 Remington Magnum
and .458 Winchester Magnum. This
is essentially the Model 70 that made
the .458 Win. Mag. the most widely
used dangerous game round in the
world after its introduction in 1956.
The matte blued, 24-inch barrel
sports a front band swivel mount;
ramped, hooded front sight; block rear
express sight; and a secondary recoil lug
under the sight. Both the barrel lug and
C S
 action recoil lug are bedded in fiberglass/epoxy. The satin-finished
walnut stock has a high, straight comb, cheekpiece, black Pachmayr
Decelerator recoil pad, one-piece steel floorplate/trigger bow,
and two crossbolts for additional strength. I see only two things
on the new M70s that are significantly different from the pre-64s:
the adjustable M.O.A. trigger and better overall quality. This is
everything one needs in a dangerous game bolt-action.
Other big news is the return of the lever actions, specifically
the Model 94, Model 1895 and Model 1886. The M94, the
most popular rifle in history, is offered in two Limited Edition
models that commemorate the 200th anniversary of Oliver F.
AMMUNITION
Barnes. Long a purveyor of deadly and dependable big game,
dangerous game and varmint bullets, Barnes just announced it will
now sell its own loaded ammunition, the VOR-TX line featuring
Barnes Triple Shock, Tipped Triple Shock and Triple Shock Flat
Nose bullets. At least that’s all for this year. It seems only natural
that the company’s various other bullets, from Varmint Grenades to
Banded Solids, will soon follow. Watch for VOR-TX ammo in gold
and bronze boxes on dealer shelves. You should find it in several
popular cartridges from .223 Rem. through .338 Win. Mag.
Federal. We’ll give Federal our “most visually disturbing
catalog” award for the decade. Tiny lettering on a variably
black background intersected with endless avenues of white
dots makes it challenging to find anything. But we’ve mucked
through for you, gentle reader, and discovered they’ve
improved lots of dangerous game bullets and loads.
First, the Trophy Bonded Bear Claw has been graced
with pressure relief grooves, nickel plating and an improved
manufacturing process that enhances accuracy. The Trophy
Bonded Sledgehammer Solid got similar treatment minus the
nickel plating. Look for both new bullets across the Cape-Shok
line. Also, the proven Swift A-Frame has been added to the
line in .370 Sako Magnum through .500 Nitro Express. Barnes
Triple Shock X-Bullets now ride atop 9.3x62 Mauser, 9.3x74R,
.470 NE and .500 NE loads. Finally, in an impressive effort to
provide for the Africa hunter, there are nine dangerous game
loads now topped with the Barnes Banded Solid.
At the other end of the spectrum, there is a 50-grain Sierra
BlitzKing load in .220 Swift and non-leaded TNT Green bullets
atop a .204 Ruger and .22 Hornet. The excellent Trophy Bonded
Tip bullet in 140 grain and 160 grain now rides atop 7mm Rem.
Mag., 7mm STW and 7mm WSM loads. The .22-250 Rem.
Swift has created a colorful package design for its A-Frame bullets The Federal Premium line now includes Trophy Bonded
that compliments the blue-and-silver graphics on Scirocco boxes.
S P O R T I N G
184
Winchester’s birth in New England in 1810. A Model 1894
Custom Grade and Model 1894 High Grade will be offered
in .30-30 Winchester. Both models will have full engraving on
receivers, 24-inch half-round, half-octagon deeply blued barrels
and high-grade walnut stocks. Only 500 Custom Grade rifles
in sets with the High Grade model will be offered. A limited
quantity of High Grade models will be sold individually.
The M1895 Grade I lever action with 24-inch barrel will be
offered in .405 Win., .30-06 Springfield and .30-40 Krag. The
Model 1886 Extra Light Grade I lever action will be offered in
.45-70 Govt. with a 22-inch barrel.
becomes an even deadlier deer round with the 50-grain Barnes
Triple Shock X-Bullet, and the 6.5x55 Swedish picks up speed and
accuracy with Sierra MatchKing BTHP bullets in 93 and 123 grains.
Finally, there’s a 250-grain MatchKing aboard a .338 Lapua, the
current darling of extreme range shooting. I believe this is the
first .338 Lapua offering from Federal, but it won’t be the last.
Hornady. Well, what do you know. It is rocket science
after all. In their clever ads, Hornady claims the gains in velocity
they’ve made with their new Superformance ammunition is
rocket science. Thanks to a new blend of Superformance powders,
they’ve increased velocities 100 to 200 fps over conventional
ammunition. And without increasing felt recoil. Personally, I doubt I
could feel any recoil difference from an additional 200 fps. But that’s
okay. It’s the velocity I’d be after. Increase a .30-06 by 200 fps and
you’re approaching the performance of a .300 Win. Mag.
Superformance ammo is reportedly temperature insensitive. The
ammunition showed consistent velocities in temperatures from
minus 15 to 140 degrees F, and that’s a useful attribute. Packaged in
colorful red boxes, Superformance ammunition can be found in a
wide variety of cartridges from .243 Win. through .338 Win. Mag.
To meet the demands of handloaders, Hornady has added four
more component bullets to its GMX (Gilding Metal eXpanding)
line. They include: 6mm, 80 grains; .25 caliber, 110 grains; 6.5mm,
120 grains; and .338, 185 grains. Gilding Metal is harder and tougher
than solid copper and does not foul or increase pressure. Hornady
engineers designed the GMX to perform across a wide range of
velocities, from 2000 fps to 3400 fps. The bullets expand to 1.5 times
their original diameter and retain 95 percent of their original weight.
InterLock and FMJ (Full Metal Jacket) bullets have reached
legendary status among safari hunters, but that hasn’t stopped
Hornady from raising the bar again. Their new DGS (Dangerous
Sledgehammer Solid bullets.
C L A S S I C S
 Game Solid) and DGX (Dangerous Game eXpanding) bullets are
made with a hard lead/antimony alloy cone surrounded by a copper
clad steel jacket. The bullets feature a flat meplat for straighter
penetration and create more energy transfer than a simple round
profile bullet. Calibers range from .375 on up to .500.
Hornady’s Dangerous Game Series includes the 270-grain
InterLock Spire Point-Recoil Proof, as well as the new DGS and
DGX bullets. Meticulous attention was devoted to ensure that
DGS ammunition like the .450/400 Nitro Express 3-inch and
.450 Nitro Express 3 1/4-inch regulate properly in both classic
doubles and in newer rifles.
Remington. As the country’s number one seller of
ammunition, Remington doesn’t seem to need new stuff, but
creates it nonetheless. This year they’ve added several loads to the
Premier Copper-Solid (really a tipped, hollow-point, all-copper
bullet). They include: .30-30 Win., 150 grains; .30-06, 165 grains;
.300 Win. Mag., 165 grains; and .300 Rem. Ultra Mag. 165 grains.
AR rifle shooters get a fourth load for the newest .30 caliber
on the block. A 150-grain Core-Lokt pointed spire point is now
available in the .30 Remington AR cartridge. It should start life at
2,575 fps, right between the .30-30 Win. and .308 Win.
Finally, in their efforts to supply shooters with an ever-
widening selection of cartridges, Remington now loads
the .338 Marlin with a 250-grain softpoint and the .450
Bushmaster with a thumping 260-grain AccuTip.
Sierra. No new bullets from Sierra this year, but they’ve got
a hot new Infinity Mobile Version 1 ballistic software program
out that works on handheld computers using Windows Mobile
Operating system, version 5.0 and higher. In case you’re still
shooting in the dark ages, our high tech, long-range tactical shooters
now use computer number crunching to compute hold-over
and windage compensation based on distance to target, angle,
temperature, humidity level, altitude, wind direction and speed.
There may or may not be corrections for the Coriolis Effect and
gyroscopic drift. In short, with this Sierra software one of those new
mini-computer cell phones does the hard mental work for you
while you concentrate on
good form.
Swift Bullets. The
innovative bullet company
from out on the Kansas
prairie has introduced new
packaging and graphics
H ornady’s new Superformance
powders increase bullet velocities
by 100 to 200 fps over
conventional ammunition, but
without increasing felt recoil.
S P O R T I N G
186
for its popular A-Frame line. The new red and gold graphics are
compatible with the Scirocco in blue and silver.
For this year, Swift has introduced a 9.3 caliber in 286 grains,
a .500 in 570 grains and a .505 Gibbs also in 570. Federal
Cartridge Company will load from 9.3 through .500 in its Vital
Shock line of ammunition.
Swift now has a full line of Heavy Revolver hunting bullets
in A-Frame Bonded. This year they’ve introduced a .357 in
158 and 180 grains, a .41 caliber in 210, and a .500 caliber in
325. These bullets, in addition to the .44s and .45s already
being manufactured, round out the full Heavy Revolver Line.
Federal is loading all of these bullets in their Vital Shock line.
The company is also offering two new Sciroccos: a 6mm or
.243 diameter 90-grain and a .338 in 210 grain. The computer-
designed shape of the .243 includes a boat tail base, long frontal
profile and pointed tip that pierces the air at high velocity. Wind
deflection is hardly a factor, because the bullet gets down range
in a short flight time.
The new .338 can enhance the long range, game-taking ability
of the .338 Win. Mag., .338 Ultra Mag. and .340 Weatherby. Its
lead core is welded to a thick jacket wall by a proprietary bonding
process. This thick base also assures that the bullet will withstand
the high-pressure thrust and acceleration from big-cased and
high-intensity cartridges without excessive deformation. At the
same time, the polymer tip and jacket design assure positive
expansion at extreme range.
Winchester. Big Red follows up last year’s release of the Power
Max Bonded bullet with additional loadings. New are Power Max
Bonded ammunition in .243 Win., 7mm Rem. Mag., 7mm WSM,
.30-06, .300 WSM and .300 Win. Mag. Its Pointed Hollow Point
has a lead core welded to the jacket for controlled expansion and
excellent weight retention.
In varmint ammo, look for new Lead Free Ballistic Silvertips.
These are like the lead-core BTs built by Nosler, except the core is
compressed copper particles that explode from the thin jacket on
impact. They’re offered in .223 Rem. and .22-250 Rem.
C L A S S I C S
The Traveling Sportsman

The Traveling Sportsman

LODGES, GUIDES & OUTFITTERS

Gamebirds &
Gundogs
The Traveling Sportsman
Prollsinethrough
Hill Plantation’s mule-drawn wagon
the longleaf pine forest.
Pine Hill Plantation
If quail hunting is anything, it is
driven by tradition. And for those who
believe in traditions, there is only one
way to hunt quail . . . from horseback
and mule-drawn wagon. Quail
hunting from horseback is as deeply
imbedded in the Southern plantation
psyche as grits and cornbread, and
the mule-drawn wagon is an iconic
symbol of the grand plantation bird-
hunting experience. With extensive
habitat management on more than
6,000 acres of longleaf pine forest,
coveys of quail flush as wild as they
did in the golden days of vintage
Georgia bobwhite hunting.
Groups can enjoy the comfort
of their own lodge with their own
personal house staff. With its
timeless Southern style, private
lodges, genteel decor and traditional
horseback and mule-drawn wagon
hunt, Pine Hill Plantation is south
Georgia’s finest vintage quail hunting
destination. Call (229) 758-2464 or
visit www.pinehillplantation.com.
S POR T
Ebeautiful
lhew Barningham recently produced five
pups.
Grusticuestselegance
Elhew Kennels
The excitement level at Elhew
Kennels is very high right now, with
three great litters this spring and
summer, one of which was sired by
Elhew Snakefoot.
Through frozen sperm, we were
able to breed Elhew Barningham and
she produced five beautiful pups; four
females and one male. Martha and I will
be taking a long look at this litter.
We are planning to upgrade our
Web site, www.elhewkennels.org, with
pictures of new sires and dams in the
near future. Please be patient with me,
because I am being dragged into the
21st century kicking and screaming.
As always, visitors are welcome. Just
let us know when you will be in the area.
Thank you. Call (508) 393-9238 or visit
www.elhewkennels.org.
Deer Creek Lodge
Established in 1978, Deer Creek
is widely recognized as the highest
volume, one-fee wingshooting operation
in the nation. Guests can expect
opportunities at upwards of 200 quail
per day or opt to substitute a morning or
afternoon of upland birds for a 25-bird
ING C LA S S I
190
at Deer Creek Lodge can enjoy
and exceptional comfort.
group limit of mallards.
New for the 2009-2010 season are
pheasant tower shoots for groups of
10 to 20 people, to create another
unforgettable experience!
Unmatched pheasant, chukar,
Hungarian partridge, wild turkey,
doves, trophy whitetails and catch-and-
release bass fishing are available. Call
toll free, (888) 875-3000, or visit www.
deercreeklodge.net.
Joshua Creek Ranch
Joshua Creek Ranch recently
earned the designation as a Beretta
Trident Lodge for excellence in
upland bird hunting. The Beretta
Trident affiliation ensures the shooting
sportsman that the lodges receiving
“Tridents” are the very best venues for
high-quality hunting experiences.
Located in the beautiful Texas Hill
Country, Joshua Creek Ranch is nestled
on an isolated stretch of the pristine
Guadalupe River – a mere 40 minutes
northwest of San Antonio. The ranch’s
diverse terrain is perfect habitat for the
Jnear
oshua Creek Ranch offers superb hunting
the Guadalupe River in the Texas
Hill Country.
C S
The Traveling Sportsman

S
C
S I
S
LA
C
191
ING
POR T
S
 best quail hunting
in Texas, with
Na day
icole Whitelaw and Maggie are all set for
of quail shooting at The Sawbriar in
the added bonus Tennessee’s Upper Cumberland Plateau.
of pheasant and
partridge. abound for non-hunting guests as well.
Joshua Creek The collaboration of lifelong friends
The Traveling Sportsman

offers walk-up and wildlife biologists Dr. Frederick

hunts behind
exceptional pointing
and flushing dogs
with experienced,
professional guides
in addition to
continental shoots
or European-style
driven pheasant
shoots. Hunting enthusiasts can also
enjoy fly fishing for trout and gunning
on three automatic, state-of-the-art
clay-shooting courses. Gourmet
dining and lodging with spectacular
views top off the ultimate outdoor
experience at Joshua Creek Ranch,
celebrating 20 years of superior service
to sportsmen. Call (830) 537-5090 or
visit www.joshuacreek.com.
The Sawbriar
The Sawbriar provides an unsurpassed
wingshooting experience for the
discriminating sportsman in the heart of
Tennessee’s Upper Cumberland Plateau.
Hunting bobwhite quail and pheasants
over world-class pointers and retrievers,
or enjoy one of our English-style
tower shoots, all in Tennessee’s most
intensively managed upland habitat.
We’re located adjacent to the
125,000-acre Big South Fork National
River and Recreation Area, so activities
Moody and John Burrell, The Sawbriar
is a meticulously developed shooting
property specifically designed for the
shotgunner. Their shared love for the
covey rise, the cackle of a big rooster
pheasant and the point of a classy bird
dog – all consistently guided their
single-minded efforts to develop a truly
world-class sporting destination.
Contact The Sawbriar at (800) 999-
7180; www.sawbriarhunting.com.
The High Lonesome Ranch
The High Lonesome Ranch sits in
a fertile valley on the Western Slope
of the Colorado Rockies. With more
than 300 square miles of deeded
and permitted access, the ranch is a
half-hour drive from Grand Junction’s
Walker Field Airport.
Hunt wheat and rye fields, creek
bottoms, and sage and oak-brush flats
for five species of wild and early release
gamebirds. In addition to pheasant,

S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
192
 chukar and Hungarian partridge, you’ll
also find scaled and Gambel’s quail.
The kennel at The High Lonesome
Ranch is home of nationally renowned
Brett and Robbie Arnold’s High Country
Sporting Dogs’ training program. Dog

The Traveling Sportsman

training and handling workshops are
conducted in winter, spring and fall for
dogs and handlers of all abilities.
All hunting guides are NSCA Level 1
certified shooting instructors. Pre-hunt
warm-ups are at the Five Stand, Pheasant
Walk, Quail Walk or Flurry shooting
courses. Take advantage of our popular
fall cast-and-blast, spring turkey trout, or
summer fish and chips (fishing and golf)
packages. Shotgun rentals are available.
The master suites have private
bathrooms, and the ranch offers a state-
of-the-art conference center. Non-
hunting guests can enjoy horseback
riding, hiking and mountain biking
among other activities. Our award-
winning chef prepares contemporary
ranch cuisine each evening and pairs
entrees with an appropriate selection
of local wines. Airport pickups can be
arranged. Call (970) 283-9420 or visit
www.thehighlonesomeranch.com.

Ayet pair of high-tailed pointers pin down

a nother covey of birds at High
Lonesome Ranch.

S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
193
 Fall Puppies
Sarahsetter Kennels
Sarahsetter Kennels, located in
Aiken, South Carolina, was founded on
rare principles back in 1991 – to train
dogs without the use of punishment
Sprout
by using behavioral training methods,

Sarahsetter Kennels
Swan
The Traveling Sportsman

including positive and negative

reinforcement. Mark Fulmer founded
Sarahsetter kennels and has worked to
find new and exciting ways to develop
The Behavioral Trainer • Training all Breeds • English Setters • Boykin Spaniels • Red Setters and train very young puppies to
See Us on
www.sarahsetter.com • 803 649-6492 • Aiken, SC become great dogs.
Sarahsetter’s Progressive Early
Natural Development (S.P.E.N.D.)
program for puppies is unparalleled
in the sporting dog world. Research
into the early development of children
and animals has made tremendous
advances in recent years, and Mark is
constantly searching for new research
to build on this amazing program.
Sarahsetter Kennels’ goals are to breed
highly intelligent bird dogs through
intensive management of the mother
and puppies’ environmental and
nutritional influencers.
We have taken advantage of this
research to produce the best birddog
puppies available anywhere in the
world. All Sarahsetter puppies at 12
weeks point and back in the field, and
most retrieve. They know their names,
simple commands and how to walk on
a lead without pulling.
Sarahsetter kennels will always be
looking for innovative ways to make it
easier for your dog to learn and retain
his training. Call (803) 649-6492 or
visit www.sarahsetter.com.

Where 44 years of Experience combined with Perfection

produces Top Quality Gun Dogs. We offer The Best in
Training and care of your dog. We train all pointers and
retrieving breeds.

Davis’ Five Star Kennels

Bob E. Davis • 8253 N. Nason Lane, Mt. Vernon, IL 62864
Contact:
(618) 242-3409 S arahsetter Kennels uses the latest research
to train dogs without using punishment.

S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
194
 • Retriever training for upland game birds,
waterfowl and hunt tests
• Convenient Midwest location with
airport service available
• Excellent kennel facilities

The Traveling Sportsman

Hdog-work
Pleasant Hill Retrievers
unters at Burnt Pine can expect great
and plenty of wingshooting fun.

Burnt Pine Plantation Contact: Gene & Mary Jane Deutsch

Georgia is famous for quail, and (H) 812-985-0006 (C) 812- 457-0784 e-mail: phrdogs@aol.com www.phrdogs.com
at Burnt Pine Plantation you will
experience quail hunting at its finest.
With more than 4,000 acres of planted
and natural cover, there is plenty of
bird-hunting habitat and outstanding
wingshooting action. Supplemental
stocking assures several large covey
rises on each hunt. In addition to quail,
pheasants and chukar are available.
Our new 13,000-square-foot lodge,
with 12 in-suite rooms, houses up to 24
guests in relaxing comfort. Burnt Pine
is a complete up-market package with
gracious hospitality and gourmet food to
match the excellent hunting.
When you combine professional
guides, prime habitat and an abundance
of large coveys with a fine brace of
dogs, you have hunting the way it was
intended to be. Burnt Pine offers more
than great bird-shooting, as we also hunt
trophy whitetails and turkeys during
their seasons. Located just one hour east
of Atlanta. Contact Burnt Pine at (706)
557-0407; www.burntpine.com.

Quail Hollow Kennels

The classic American Brittany,
line-bred for more than 50 years, is a
natural pointer, ideal for the sportsman
who hunts pheasant, quail, grouse and
woodcock.
For the last 25 years, Quail Hollow
has carefully incorporated bloodlines

Qnatural
uail Hollow trains their Brittainies to be
retrievers and good field companions.
S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
195
 to create a natural retriever and perfect
hunting companion. We sell Brittany
pups, started and trained. We also offer
training for all pointing breeds to be
developed into a personal shooting dog in
three to four months and a B&B service
The Traveling Sportsman

for your pampered feather-finder.

Centrally located in the woodcock
flyway, we offer woodcock training for the
second-season bird dog from mid-October
to mid-January. Call (856) 935-3459 or
visit www.quailhollowkennel.com.

Rio Piedra Plantation

For the third time Rio Piedra
Plantation has been named the Orvis
Wingshooting Lodge of the Year,
an honor no one else has received
more than once. Combine this with
also having been named Sporting
Classics’ Hunting Lodge of the Year
for 2009 - 2010, and it’s easy to see
why Rio Piedra is so extraordinary.
Located in the very heart of the
classic Southern Plantation Belt that
stretches across south Georgia and into
northern Florida, Rio Piedra harkens
back to a finer, gentler era when the
quail were your longstanding neighbors,
the coveys all had names, and the
hunting was relaxed and unconfined.
Some days the birds are easy to
find, and some days they are shy and
mysterious. That’s what makes it all
so perfect, with everything set in an
atmosphere of casual 5-star elegance
that provides a wingshooting experience
unlike any you’ve ever encountered.
Call (229) 336-1677 or visit
www.RioPiedraPlantation.com.

TSporting
hese prestigious awards from Orvis and
Classics testify to the superb
wingshooting experience at Rio Piedra.

S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
196

Tgundogs
rieven-Sungold has been breeding superb
for nearly 45 years.
Trieven-Sungold Kennels
At Trieven-Sungold, we hunt our
dogs, and breed for the type of dog we
want to hunt behind and live with!
Our FC-AFC Misty’s Sungold Lad
was the first golden retriever elected to
the RFTHF. The Sungold name is in
the pedigrees of the best-field golden
retrievers. We breed for field-ability,
intelligence, looks and soundness.
Trieven labs appear in the best-
field pedigree and are the only kennel
breeding pointing labs who have also
produced/had more than 40 FC/AFC,
NFCs and have 3 in the RFTH Hall
of Fame! Call (307) 548-7546 or visit
www.trieven-sungold.com.
Gsportsmen
S POR T
Dorchester Shooting Preserve
At Dorchester Shooting Preserve we
believe that personal service, hard-flying
quail, well-trained bird dogs/guides,
comfortable beds and good food are all
equally important. That’s why we try to
be the very best at every one of these.
You will always be personally greeted
by the owners before settling into your
cabin adjacent to our new 10,000-square-
foot lodge. Your coastal Georgia hunt
takes place on beautiful quail habitat in
pine plantations full of native grasses and
live oaks draped with Spanish moss. Our
early release/wild birds are the best in the
business. Come join us for an experience
that’s second to none! Call (912) 884-6999
or visit www.huntdsp.com.
reat hunting and accommodations await
at Dorchester Shooting Preserve.
T he Lodge at Chama is one of the largest
and most beautiful lodges in the U.S.
ING C LA S S I
197
The Lodge at Chama
Long a world-renowned destination
for elk, mule deer and incredible trophy
trout fishing, the Lodge and Ranch at
Chama is also a prime location for blue
grouse and Merriam’s turkeys.
The Traveling Sportsman
The blue grouse is an oversize
western gamebird that is something of
a cross between a grouse and a surface-
to-air missile that can leave your nerves
shattered as it rockets from cover. But
not to worry, for at day’s end you will
relax in the lap of luxury in the 27,000-
square foot, award- winning lodge with
its opulent accommodations and fine
dining. Call (575) 756-2133 or visit
www.LodgeAtChama.com.
C S
 Gprime
reystone Castle sits on 5,000 acres of
The Traveling Sportsman
hunting land a mere 90 miles from
the Dallas/Fort Worth airport.
Greystone Castle
Located 90 miles west of the Dallas/
Fort Worth airport, Greystone Castle
rises from the valley overlooking a
magnificent 5,000-acre property.
An elegant, 24-room English-style
castle, Greystone is an Orvis Endorsed
Wing Shooting lodge that offers
pheasant, quail, chukar and Hungarian
partridge as well as European pheasant
shoots and mallard duck hunts.
Greystone also has trophy white-tailed
deer and Rio Grande turkey, along with
exotic hunts for more than 40 different
species. From fine dining to exquisite
lodging, Greystone Castle offers something
for everyone. Call (254) 672-5927 or visit
us at www.greystonecastle.com.
S POR T
SCathey
keeter Branch owners Bob and Daniel
offer second-to-none duck hunting.
Skeeter Branch Hunting Lodge
Skeeter Branch is in the northeast
corner of Georgia just minutes from
Hartwell Lake and the Savannah River.
Its flooded corn, millet and wild rice fields
include 11 ponds up to 12 acres in size.
Skeeter Branch’s mallard release program
guarantees a duck hunt of a lifetime.
Bob Cathey envisioned a hunter’s
paradise when he, his wife Leila, and
his son Daniel founded Skeeter Branch
in 1985. Resting on 250 acres, Skeeter
Branch offers comfortable lodging for
up to 16 people, home cooking, dog
accommodations, guides and calling in
an atmosphere that is second to none.
Call (864) 224-0401 or (864) 303-8203,
or visit www.huntmallards.com.
ING C LA S S I
198
GMeadows
reat hunting and great cover set Hilltop
apart from the rest.
Hilltop Meadows Gun Club
Hilltop Meadows has been described
by its guests as a cross between South
Dakota and the English countryside.
High praise indeed for this little corner
of northwest Illinois, nestled along the
Mississippi River Valley just two hours
from the Chicago area.
Unique to the hunting preserve
experience, there are no time
constraints or limits on birds at
Hilltop. Plentiful, hard-running,
fast-flying pheasants, partridge and
quail challenge the best bird dog and
hunter, exactly the way it should be.
Combined with a challenging
five stand course, attentive service
and private accommodations, you
have everything you need for a truly
great hunting experience. Call Mike
at (815) 535-1056 or visit www.
hilltopmeadowshuntclub.com.
Bear Mountain LLC
The “Autumn Rut” is for the
discriminating sportsman who dreams
of pursuing authentic Russian boar.
You can now hunt this legendary
beast in the United States. Enter the
dark forest and challenge your skills
at super-slow still-hunting, classic
spot-and-stalk or traditional ambush.
Russian boar hunting in the far north
C S
 The Traveling Sportsman
BRussian
ear Mountain offers one-of-a-kind
boar hunting in the United States.

is not for the faint-of-heart. Discover

how easy it is to turn your fall fantasy into
a first-class reality. If you desire to hunt
what others only dream of experiencing,
then explore the Hunting Resource
Center at www.SCIBoarHunter.com and
investigate real Russian Boar Hunting.
You may also call (800) 676-9821, and one
of our knowledgeable guides will provide
you with a complimentary Russian
Boar Hunting Adventure Kit.

Tumbleweed Lodge
Recently recognized as one
of the Top 10 Greatest Hunting
Lodges in the world on the Outdoor
Channel and one of the Top 20 Wing
Shooting Destinations by outdoor
writer Steve Smith, Tumbleweed
Lodge’s family oriented atmosphere
has been offering traditional upland
game hunts to discerning sportsman
of all ages for more than 25 years.
Tumbleweed Lodge spans more than
12,000 acres and is the ultimate location
to hunt the Grand Slam of the Dakotas –
pheasants, sharptail grouse, prairie
chickens and Hungarian partridge.
Your hunting experience is
heightened by the camaraderie shared
among friends in our luxurious 18,000-

SDakotas
hoot your gamebird Grand Slam of the
at Tumbleweed Lodge.

S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
199
 square-foot lodge, including indoor spa,
steam room, cigar room and multiple
lounge areas. Our chef and lodge staff
are professional and courteous and
strive to provide a 5-star atmosphere.
Call Michael at (605) 875-3440 or visit
The Traveling Sportsman

www.tumbleweedlodge.com.

Flying B Ranch
It’s time to start planning your fall
hunting trips, and we recommend that
your first call be to the Flying B Ranch.
Known as one of the most versatile
outfitters in the country, the Flying B
offers destination wingshooting, big
game hunting and fishing opportunities
for those who want to experience a
real customized sporting package. Six
species of upland game, along with
world-class steelhead fishing, puts their
cast-and-blast trips into a whole other
league from the competition.
Whether your quest is for a mule
deer with archery gear or you’re looking
to get your friends out for upland
hunting, the Flying B has hunting
opportunities that are second to none.
It would also be a shame not to mention
the Flying B’s head chef, Ryan Nelson,
and his culinary expertise as he prepares
succulent dishes that top off the Flying
B experience. Visit www.flyingbranch.
com for a detailed list of adventures.

AB Ranch
German shorthair holds steady as a Flying
guest spins into shooting position.

S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
200
Lodges, Guides & Outfitter Web Sites
ALASKA
Alaska Sportsman’s Lodge – www.alaskasportsmanslodge.com
Kulik Lodge – www.kuliklodge.com
BELIZE
Turneffe Flats – www.tflats.com
COLORADO

The Traveling Sportsman

The High Lonesome Ranch – www.thehighlonesomeranch.com
GEORGIA
Dorchester Shooting Preserve – www.huntdsp.com
Pine Hill Plantation – www.pinehillplantation.com
Rio Piedra Plantation – www.riopiedraplantation.com
Riverview Plantation – www.riverviewplantation.com
Skeeter Branch Hunting Preserve – www.huntmallards.com
INTERNATIONAL
Bob Kern’s Hunting Consortium, Ltd. – www.huntcon.com
The Detail Company – www.detailcompany.com
J/B Adventures & Safaris – www.jbsafari.com
IDAHO
Flying B Ranch – www.flyingbranch.com
ILLINOIS
Hilltop Meadows Hunt Club, LLC –
www.hilltopmeadowshuntclub.com
INDIANA
Pleasant Hill Retrievers – www.phrdogs.com
KANSAS
Sagebrush Hunts – www.sagebrushhunts.com
KENTUCKY
Deer Creek Lodge – www.deercreeklodge.net
MASSACHUSETTS
Elhew Kennels – www.elhewkennels.com
MEXICO
Baja Hunting – www.bajahunting.com
MICHIGAN
Bear Mountain LLC/Russian Boar – www.sciboarhunter.com
Redpine Whitetails, Inc. – www.redpinewhitetails.com
Sanctuary – www.sanctuary-ranch.com
MISSOURI
Oak Creek Whitetail Ranch – www.oakcreekwhitetailranch.com
NEW MEXICO
Lodge at Chama – www.lodgeatchama.com
Quinlan Ranches – www.quinlanranchesnewmexico.com
NEW JERSEY
Quail Hollow Kennel & Woodcock Guide Service –
www.quailhollowkennel.com
NEW YORK
Battenkill Lodge – www.battenkilllodge.com We have been absent from most ads and the
Bay View Registered Setters – www.bayviewuplandsetters.com
SOUTH CAROLINA Internet for some time now. Shame on us…
Deerfield Plantation – www.huntersnet.com/deerfield
Moree’s Sportsman’s Preserve – www.moreespreserve.com
Riverbend Resort – www.rvrbend.com
Sarahsetter Kennels – www.sarahsetter.com As Mark Twain said. “The rumors of
SOUTH DAKOTA
Cheyenne Ridge Signature Lodge – www.signaturelodge.com my demise have been greatly exaggerated”
Timber Lake Elk Ranch – www.timberlakeelkranch.com
Tumbleweed Lodge – www.tumbleweedlodge.com I’m excited to be back.
TEXAS
Greystone Castle Sporting Club – www.greystonecastle.com
Joshua Creek Ranch – www.joshuacreek.com
See a current listing of all our guns on my website.
Rio Brazos Outfitting – www.riobrazosoutfitters.com Also, call or write for a list.
Southwest Trophy Hunts – www.swhunts.com
The Maurin Ranch – www.maurinranch.com 606 Ninth Street, Terrell, TX 75160
U.S./CANADA
High Adventure Company – www.whitetaildestinations.com 972/563-7577 Fax 972/563-7578
WYOMING email: chadicksltd@sbcglobal.net
Trieven-Sungold Kennels and Hunt Club, LLC – www.chadicksltd.com
www.trieven-sungold.com

S POR T ING C LA S S I C S
201
 T St. Croix Rods
op S helf Proven Products

When I decided to start fly fishing again, I was advised to get in touch with
the people at St. Croix rods. Boy, am I glad I did. I hadn’t done much fly
fishing since I was a kid, so I needed every advantage I could muster. I got
two rods, a Legend Elite series 9-foot, 8-weight for bass and an Imperial
series 8-foot, 4-weight for stream fishing. I’ve used them both exclusively this
summer and they make my casting look good. I’ve beaten them up and neither
has shown the slightest bit of wear. I have even used the 4-weight as a limb
grabber – seeing as how I spend a lot of time hung up in trees – and to my
amazement, it still casts like it did straight out of the box. Coupled with Lamson
Waterworks reels topped with Sharkskin line, I may not be the best caster on the
water, but I look good doing it! Whether you’re in the market for a new fly rod or if
you need a new saltwater outfit, you definitely need to check out St. Croix Rods.
Call (800) 826-7042 or visit www.stcroixrods.com – Matt Coffey, Managing Editor.

Le Chameau’s New Global Tracker

Le Chameau, known for its leather-lined Chasseur and technically lined
rubber boots designed for comfort, now offers the new Global Tracker. This
lightweight hiking boot features abrasion-resistant leather and is suitable for
the toughest conditions. The inside of the boot stays dry and cool thanks to an
innovative lining featuring Le Chameau’s patented Air Confort technology,
which pulls heat and moisture away from the foot. A shock absorber in the heel
of the rugged rubber sole makes it perfect for any terrain.
“My Le Chameau Global Tracker boots have worked for me from the African
bush to my farm in Kansas and all points in between. Lightweight, breathable,
tough and with zero break-in time, they are the most comfortable boots I have
ever owned.” – Craig Boddington
Visit www.LeChameauUSA.com for a retailer near you.

Zeiss Victory DiaScope

The new DiaScope spotting scopes from Carl Zeiss feature a
revolutionary Dual Speed Focus (DSF) system that combines fast
and fine focusing in a single control. The sleek, rubber-armored
exterior improves the feel and protection of the highly durable
magnesium/aluminum housing, and the exceptional optical
performance of its FL lens system produces sharp and brilliant
images, even in the most demanding conditions.
Additional enhancements include the new Vario D 15-56x / 20-75x eyepiece, the most powerful and versatile eyepiece on
the market. All DiaScope eyepieces feature Carl Zeiss’ LotuTec water repellent coating, and the new bayonet system securely
locks the eyepieces onto the scope, yet allows for quick and easy changing. Available in 65mm or 85mm models, straight or
angled. Visit zeiss.com/sports or call (800) 441-3005.
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
202
Dea Small-Gauge Shotgun by Fausti
The Fausti Dea and Dea Duetto small-frame shotguns provide
a new alternative to small-gauge shooting enthusiasts.
The Dea is made on a scaled frame, 28-gauge action. The
patented ejector system allows the action to be made to scale and
is available in 28 and .410 bore with either 28- or 30-inch barrels.
The Dea Duetto two-gauge set is available in 28 gauge and .410 bore, with 28-inch barrels.
Being a true scaled-frame action, the Dea 28 weighs 4.95 pounds, while the .410 model weighs 5.1 pounds. A hand-
rubbed oil finish enhances the highly figured Turkish walnut stock and fore-end. The long trigger guard is elegantly
detailed and the exquisite scroll engraving and richly blued barrels show off this petite shotgun.
Whether following a covey of bobwhites through the pines of a Georgia plantation or along a logging road in Maine
in search of grouse, the Dea’s small frame, light weight and superior shoot-ability allow you to hunt comfortably all day.
Call Fausti USA at (540) 371-3287 or visit www.faustiusa.com.

Muzzle Brakes by Vais Arms

Vais Arms celebrated ten years of customer service this year and now has two full-time gunsmiths with more
than 80 years combined experience. Vais specializes in the manufacture and installation of the Vais Muzzle Brake,
in addition to re-barreling and accuracy testing of most bolt-action rifles.
Randy Williams of Bar-W Groundwater Exploration in Austin, Texas, wrote the following about his recent
hunt in South Africa:
“Thanks for your excellent work on my .375. It performed very well and did everything asked of it! The trigger is light
but controllable, and after the re-crown and bedding, the accuracy is phenomenal and the brake is incredible. The reduction
in recoil and muzzle-rise allowed me to watch animals drop to the shot. The PHs were impressed with the accuracy and one
liked it so much he couldn’t seem to put it down!” Call (830) 741-7167 or visit http://muzzlebrakes.com/.

S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
203
 RealMen.
..
WearWader
s

Ifyour e
a dmyp ostt
it
led“ColdFeet…Lit
era
ll
y,”you’
llnot
iceIgota“gr
eatdea
l”onap a
ir
ofwa ders.Onl
yn owd oIknowth a
tthemanwh osol
dmet hewa de
rsl
aughedal
lthewayto
theb a
nk. Buthe’
sn o
ttheonlyonelaughi
ngnow.Soaret
heg uysatDanBail
eyFlyFis
hing,
mo stofmyf ri
endswh ohavebeeninf
ormedandevenmywi fe.
An dyouwil
lbe,t
oo,I’
m
sure,i
fy oureadt
h est
orybe
low.

Yousee,
thewa de
rsIwassoldwerede
fect
ive.I
’ms ur
etheguywh osol
dthemtomedi d
n’t
knowthi
s,asth
eyh a
dn ev
erbeenuse
d,soIdon’tholdhimaccount
abl
efort
hat.Ius
edthe
wader
sabouthal
fado z
entimesandr
eali
zedtheywereleaki
ng.SoIcal
ledt
hema nuf
act
urer
ofmywa der
s,DanBail
ey,andtomysurpr
ise
,theysaid,“
Sendthemonin.We’l
leit
herfi
x
the
mo rsen
dy ouanewp ai
r.Ei
the
rway,the
ywo n’tl
e a
kwh enyougett
hemb a
ck.”SoIdid.

Itwaswhenane
wpairwer
eret
urne
dtomet
hatmyf
oll
yofpur
cha
sewa
spoi
nte
dout
.Inb
ig,
bold,l
et
te
rsont
heou
tsi
deoft
hebox.

Ando
nthei
nvoi
ce.

Andi
nth
ede
scr
ipt
ionoft
hewa
der
sont
hei
nvoi
ce.

Here,e
xact
ly,i
swhatIsawontheboxwhe
nIopenedthenondescr
ipt
,brownpaper
wrappi
ngthewade
rswe r
esenti
n:“WOMEN’SXLWADERS. ”Tod ri
vehomethepoint
theywere“WOMEN’ SXLWADERS”t he
rewasevenacolorpict
ureofadef
ini
tel
yno t
“XL”wo manonthetopoft
heboxfi
shi
ngabea
uti
fulst
rea
mo utWest.I
nwaders
.Justli
ke
mine.

Huh.

I
nte
res
ti
ng.
Hart Rifle Barrels
Established in 1953, each Hart Rifle Barrel is handcrafted and
hand-lapped to the customer’s specifications. Using only the highest
quality stainless steel, Hart offers barrels in .375, .358, .338, .30,
7mm, .270, 6.5, .25, 6mm, and both .22 center- and rimfire. They
also provide AR-15 and 10/22 ready-to-install barrels as well as
contoured barrel blanks. Custom rifles with Hart barrels are widely
used in competitive shooting events as well as hunting. Hart barrels
hold several World Shooting Records in various disciplines.
Call (315)677-9841 or visit hartriflebarrels@sbcglobal.net.

Kenetrek Hardscrabble Light

The new Kenetrek Hardscrabble Light is
a lightweight yet tough and durable hiking
boot with a combination leather and Cordura
upper that is double- and triple-stitched in
high-wear areas. Extra-padded soft collars
along with a special flex notch upper design
provide incredible support and flexibility.
Steel shanks fused into the nylon midsoles,
combined with the K-Talon outsoles,
provide unparalleled traction on rough
terrain. The waterproof, breathable,
Wind-Tex membranes keep your feet
completely dry. Reinforced rubber sole
guards give the leather uppers added
protection against abrasion above the
soles, an area that often fails boots. All of
this support and comfort can be found
in a boot that weighs only 3.4 pounds
per pair. Made in Italy. Call (800) 232-
6064 or visit www.kenetrek.com.

E.A.R. Inc. Custom Electronic Models

E.A.R. Inc.’s HearPlugz-DF recently won the Occupational
Health and Safety Product of the Year Award. HearPlugz-DF is the
first and only product to offer the flexibility of two levels of hearing
protection and the ability to integrate with radio communications.
They are specifically designed to help you hear critical sounds like
speech, while filtering out loud or harmful noises.
The new model offers advanced filtering technology to improve
hearing without any distortion or muffling effect and can be used
with one or two filters. The filters are breathable and allow for
pressure equalization, while attenuation increases as noise increases.
This new technology is now available as an option in E.A.R.
Inc’s electronic models. With this option, the user can turn off the
electronic unit and sound reduction is provided by the dual filters.
The exterior filter can be easily removed if less attenuation is desired.
Visit http://earinc.com/ or call (800) 525-2690.

S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S
204