I imagine it was probably somewhere around 50 years ago, that I probably started thinking and day dreaming about my grandfathers' old rifle. It always sat in the corner of the old farm house, behind the swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room. It stood there with his 16ga and an old 22 rifle. That old rifle intrigued me and I always wanted to hear the story about the last time that it was fired. How that old rifle took the only bear that grandpa ever shot near Atlanta in 1938. The old bear skin rug lay on the floor in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and I guess that grandma had seen enough of it and decided that she wanted her parlor back.
Every gun in the old farm was loaded. It was the way we were brought up. But, the one thing I did know, that old rifle was never loaded. Every time I went to the farm, I'd always ask gramp if I could pick it up. He never refused to allow me to handle that old rifle. She was a heavy old gal. Made back in the day when steel was real. I could shoulder it, but not for long. That long barrel just seemed to weigh a ton.
It was probably just a couple more years and I figured it was time to ask to shoot that old rifle. No one that I had seen had ever shot that rifle. Not gramps or dad. I actually remember asking the first time to fire that rifle. I don't think my question was a surprise to either my granddad or my dad but, I wasn't ready for the answer that I got. I'd always been allowed to shoot any firearm that I wanted to shoot, but this time it was different. Grandpa said, with what appeared to be somewhat of a sad face, that they "don't make shells for it anymore". He said that he had to save the few remaining shells that he had for it. I wasn't unhappy about not being able to shoot that old rifle, but was sad that they didn't make ammunition for it anymore.
That old rifle stayed behind that swinging door until one of the saddest days of my life. Grandpa was gone. Grandma told my dad to gather all the guns up and take them home with him. It was a very sad time for all of us.
Time goes on and I grew up (found out what girls were
). Dad retired and moved north. He still had the old rifle and it stayed in the back of a closet. He'd get it out sometimes when I went home and tell the story about grandpa and the bear. Then came the saddest day of my life. My dad was now gone. It was now my time to gather up all the guns, along with that old rifle, to take home with me.
The old rifle was put in my safe and once a year, she'd come out with the rest of them and be cleaned. I'd shoulder that rifle, which was much easier to hold now. Still a heavy old girl and brought back fond memories.
I always knew what it was and knew that it had always been in the family. The original owner had been my great grandfather. Its an old Marlin, model 1881, in 40-60 cal. I have the shells that gramps had in that old weathered original box.
I was told that Buffalo Arms may have new ammunition for that rifle and after calling, I rejoiced in knowing that three boxes of new ammunition would be arriving at the house.
It had been 70 years since that old rifle had been shot. The bear was the last animal that was taken with it and also the last time that it was fired.
I waited 50 years to shoot that old rifle. I took it out back on my range, got it settled in the rest, on the target at 100 yds and pulled the trigger. High and left. Confident with the shot, I dropped the wedge one click in the rear sight and then gently tapped it over. Center, still a little left. One more tap. Last two rounds went into a 3" circle. I'm happy
After giving up my lease on property down below, I had decided to use that old rifle here at home. She's been out with me every day.
I'd made up my mind, that if I seen a good doe, that I was going to take it with that old rifle. Well tonight was the night. She walked out about 45 yds away, broad side. Hammer back, sights just behind the shoulder, pulled the trigger. I seen the impact and knew that the hit was perfect. She piled up within 35 yards.
As I walked up to the house, to get the quad, the wife opened up the back door and asked me why I was done hunting so early. I held up the empty 40-60 casing. That's when she seen the tear in my eye. She asked very softly about the tear.
I told her it was for grandpa.
Thanks for reading...
50 years.... wait is over
Great story!!
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