This is one of those threads that emerge every once in awhile here - every post a beautiful snapshot of a time, a place, a family, a yearning (or two). Pure magic.
I apologize for having to break the effect. My father wasn't a sportsman, but my best friend's father was. Hunting deep woods squirrels with him and his "Italian" .410. Summers the two of us shooting anything that moved or didn't with pellet guns. Riding our bikes to the dump with our .22's over the handlebars. You could do that in a small western Mass town in the mid 60's. Long absence from guns, they came back in my late 20's in the form of pistols and revolvers. I was a rabid handgunner until my mid-30's. I wanted to hunt againk but this time for real, and with a real shotgun - a double. You all know the rest. Here I am at the age of 59 1/2, a deep jones for double rifles with 5 of them in the safe. Four of them are blackpowder cartridge and one is a double percussion Lang from 1835.
I skipped my falling in love with blackpowder, hunting with double percussion shotguns; Purdey 16, Alex Henry 12, W.Chance 14,Westley Richards 12 (from Tony Treadwell) and a beautiful Patrick Mullin 10 bore I've finally shot but not hunted with yet.
I made a recent vow to my lovely and understanding wife (as well as to my lesser self)to not buy anymore guns........
