No water. TWO "meetings' tonight for those of us who want to sit in irritable crowds in the heat and not be able to shower afterward.
Monday, June 17, 2013
What Birds Say
From John Wilson :
Owes something to There's a Hair in my Dirt I suspect...
No water. TWO "meetings' tonight for those of us who want to sit in irritable crowds in the heat and not be able to shower afterward.
No water. TWO "meetings' tonight for those of us who want to sit in irritable crowds in the heat and not be able to shower afterward.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Clapton's Guns
Apparently Eric Clapton has commissioned and sold more guns than I have (and each and every one was probably worth more than my house). Many articles out there, a few by gunnies, some by folks horrified he would buy guns at all, some just concerned with auction prices. I assume we can all use Google, though I found fewer pix than I had hoped. One of the better is here.
Actually he seems to acquire and get rid of things the way many of us do, just on an inconceivably expensive level, so both MDMNM and I are right on what his taste is like: eclectic.
“I start out with a fairly broad spectrum – got obsessed, then engulfed, and finally narrow the collections down.
“I built a gunroom that can house a certain amount of guns, and now I have to clear the decks for the new guns I have on order."
Here are a couple of classic Bosses (I think I would have kept one!) and a rather gaudy Evans.
Sin agua...
Actually he seems to acquire and get rid of things the way many of us do, just on an inconceivably expensive level, so both MDMNM and I are right on what his taste is like: eclectic.
“I start out with a fairly broad spectrum – got obsessed, then engulfed, and finally narrow the collections down.
“I built a gunroom that can house a certain amount of guns, and now I have to clear the decks for the new guns I have on order."
Here are a couple of classic Bosses (I think I would have kept one!) and a rather gaudy Evans.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Very Good Dog!
One breed I no longer have but continue to love is the field English springer. Here is a photo of Jerry Scoville's little Springer Skookum last season, who has retrieved way more than his weight in geese. He is no Chessie-- he weighs around 28 pounds, like Taik.
Says Jerry: "He slept for ~30 hours after chasing geese all day. In this image he is with 15 white-cheeked geese. Snow, and White-fronted Geese were also harvested. Skookum weighs in at 27-to-29 pounds, and the big geese weighs in at 8--to-12 pounds. He has to run backwards when bringing big geese to hand over uneven terrain." He actually retrieved 38 in all, because he was the only dog working all that day!
Jerry likes 10 bores-- maybe he will send pics of one too.
For a good springer read try A Rough Shooting Dog by Charles Fergus, # 36 in the Book o' Books .
Need I say no change in TOWN water, though it is beginning to look like monsoons are imminent.
Says Jerry: "He slept for ~30 hours after chasing geese all day. In this image he is with 15 white-cheeked geese. Snow, and White-fronted Geese were also harvested. Skookum weighs in at 27-to-29 pounds, and the big geese weighs in at 8--to-12 pounds. He has to run backwards when bringing big geese to hand over uneven terrain." He actually retrieved 38 in all, because he was the only dog working all that day!
For a good springer read try A Rough Shooting Dog by Charles Fergus, # 36 in the Book o' Books .
Need I say no change in TOWN water, though it is beginning to look like monsoons are imminent.
Free Association
I have been kicking a few unrelated (?) things around, having plenty of material but not feeling, with our tough environmental conditions (no water, heat, impending possible rain making it an uncomfortable mix of steamy and dusty) much like writing a long essay. I was rambling freely through these things to L. and suddenly thought: I'll just post this, the stroll through. So:
Tim Gallagher's books have all been interesting, but I have thought even in its first stages; no, since reading his first slightly shaky email from Mexico when he had emerged from the Sierra in a last nightmarish drive at 5 miles per hour past buildings that had been set afire since he had last passed them-- that Imperial Dreams may be his best. It is certainly his most thrilling: his account of trying to find a remnant of the biggest and most spectacular woodpecker that ever lived in a beautiful but damaged land now controlled by narcotraficantes.
From my "official" review, not yet out: "Imperial Dreams is a natural history of the world’s most spectacular woodpecker and a mystery: a forensic inquiry into what, despite the narrator’s hopes, looks like the death of a species. It starts as light-hearted adventure ... becomes a tragedy and a tale of terror. It may be Gallagher’s best book yet, one to excite adventure travelers who might never pick up a “bird book,” while telling an unforgettable tale of loss...
"The Imperial Woodpecker’s fate might seem even grimmer than the Ivory-bill’s; the researchers find evidence that loggers repeatedly encouraged shooting and poisoning the bird to ensure its demise. If true, it represents a case of successful, conscious biocide; worse, one done for imaginary reasons—the destruction of trees that were already infested with beetle grubs. "
Strong stuff, and all too relevant. But I also saw something funny. For various reasons, uber- guitarist Jimmy Page and his various bands have been crossing the screen lately, and I realized that Jim and Tim look like the old Spy Magazine "Separated at birth'" thing. Tim lives in upstate New York and grew up in southern Cal when there was still nature there, but like Page he was born in England. This is a very gringo face for someone who, with little Spanish, is walking around the Sierra Madre with a bird book, saying "Senor, have you seen this bird?" Tim, Jimmy:
They both looked different back in the late Sixties. I will find a pic of Tim, who had long hair and a beard, but here is Jimmy Page with the great Yardbirds in '68, on French TV:
Great? At one time they featured Jeff Beck, Page, and Clapton (some time will find photos of some of Clapton's London Bests).
Led Zeppelin were recently honored in Washington-- never thought I would see Page, Robert Plante, and John Paul Jones in tuxes, being praised by the president and serenaded by Heart... (Annie Davidson sent this one...)
I was conferring with my little sport- science lit and guns group-- five guys from 40- 70 who are variously, singly and multiply profs, biologists, bloggers, a novelist, a carpenter, a falconer, a former contributor to English Literary Renaissance, and a lawyer, stretched out over the nation from Marin County to Ithaca, about all these various important phenomena. A member who is several of the above, Carlos Martinez del Rio, reminded me of another band, more local in impact but as memorable in performance: Boston's Mission of Burma, who played the "Cellars by Starlight" (Jimmy Isaac's Phoenix column and collective term for the Boston area clubs) when I worked at Inn Square in the seventies, and in the eighties when he got his nose broken at a memorable concert. Gerry, this is what they sound like-- not Winterreise, though I like Fischer Diskau too.
Finally, Magdalenian Joel Becktell, last seen on the blog busting clays at Piet's last Thanksgiving, cellist and peer of Yo Yo Ma, doing just that, and then playing selections with his crossover classical group Revel-- including, of course, "Stairway to Heaven."
Water-- nada...
Tim Gallagher's books have all been interesting, but I have thought even in its first stages; no, since reading his first slightly shaky email from Mexico when he had emerged from the Sierra in a last nightmarish drive at 5 miles per hour past buildings that had been set afire since he had last passed them-- that Imperial Dreams may be his best. It is certainly his most thrilling: his account of trying to find a remnant of the biggest and most spectacular woodpecker that ever lived in a beautiful but damaged land now controlled by narcotraficantes.
From my "official" review, not yet out: "Imperial Dreams is a natural history of the world’s most spectacular woodpecker and a mystery: a forensic inquiry into what, despite the narrator’s hopes, looks like the death of a species. It starts as light-hearted adventure ... becomes a tragedy and a tale of terror. It may be Gallagher’s best book yet, one to excite adventure travelers who might never pick up a “bird book,” while telling an unforgettable tale of loss...
"The Imperial Woodpecker’s fate might seem even grimmer than the Ivory-bill’s; the researchers find evidence that loggers repeatedly encouraged shooting and poisoning the bird to ensure its demise. If true, it represents a case of successful, conscious biocide; worse, one done for imaginary reasons—the destruction of trees that were already infested with beetle grubs. "
Strong stuff, and all too relevant. But I also saw something funny. For various reasons, uber- guitarist Jimmy Page and his various bands have been crossing the screen lately, and I realized that Jim and Tim look like the old Spy Magazine "Separated at birth'" thing. Tim lives in upstate New York and grew up in southern Cal when there was still nature there, but like Page he was born in England. This is a very gringo face for someone who, with little Spanish, is walking around the Sierra Madre with a bird book, saying "Senor, have you seen this bird?" Tim, Jimmy:
Great? At one time they featured Jeff Beck, Page, and Clapton (some time will find photos of some of Clapton's London Bests).
Led Zeppelin were recently honored in Washington-- never thought I would see Page, Robert Plante, and John Paul Jones in tuxes, being praised by the president and serenaded by Heart... (Annie Davidson sent this one...)
I was conferring with my little sport- science lit and guns group-- five guys from 40- 70 who are variously, singly and multiply profs, biologists, bloggers, a novelist, a carpenter, a falconer, a former contributor to English Literary Renaissance, and a lawyer, stretched out over the nation from Marin County to Ithaca, about all these various important phenomena. A member who is several of the above, Carlos Martinez del Rio, reminded me of another band, more local in impact but as memorable in performance: Boston's Mission of Burma, who played the "Cellars by Starlight" (Jimmy Isaac's Phoenix column and collective term for the Boston area clubs) when I worked at Inn Square in the seventies, and in the eighties when he got his nose broken at a memorable concert. Gerry, this is what they sound like-- not Winterreise, though I like Fischer Diskau too.
Finally, Magdalenian Joel Becktell, last seen on the blog busting clays at Piet's last Thanksgiving, cellist and peer of Yo Yo Ma, doing just that, and then playing selections with his crossover classical group Revel-- including, of course, "Stairway to Heaven."
Water-- nada...
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Black Forest Fire
You may have seen something about this horrible fire in the national news. I took this picture of the smoke plume from the guest bedroom balcony Tuesday afternoon when the fire was first stirring up. It's located northeast of Colorado Springs and about 40-45 miles south of us. As of this morning it had burned about 8,000 acres and destroyed about 100 homes. Since Tuesday we really haven't been able to see a plume as the wind has shifted so it's coming from the south and we are in the plume.
Very sad, as this same general area was hit by the destructive Waldo Canyon Fire a year ago.
Dali Fly
Recently, writer Tom Davis put me in touch with master fly- tier Pete Fleischman, thinking correctly that I might have the skin of our local specialty, the Mearn's quail.Its spotted fethers were neeeded for the"modern" classic salmon fly called the Dali, after the artist of course.
Traditional Atlantic salmon flies are strange things, surreal colorful attractors (or annoyers?) to tempt a quarry that does not eat in the rivers where it spawns. They are huge, complex, Victorian or Edwardian, made of almost ridiculous numbers of species, and I have always wanted one. Now I have a fabulous original. Pete writes of its composition:
"The fly is called “The Dali”, designed by Mark Waslick, a photographer, fly tier, etc. from Vermont. The pattern uses the Mearns Quail feathers that you so graciously sent to me. There are four sections to this pattern each are veiled at the top, bottom and both sides with jungle cock. In the second section from the rear you will see first a pair of black spotted wing covert feathers, back to back, and white spotted breast feathers. At the fourth section behind the head there are two more black spotted covert feathers, back to back. The wings are made of individual strips of colored turkey tail feathers with Amherst pheasant tail. The blue cheek feathers at the base of each wing section are Blue chatterer substitute, Asian jay. The keel feathers on the bottom of the fly are peacock crest feathers. The gold tail feather and topping feathers are from the head of the Golden pheasant."
All I can add is "!!!!" Right or double click for bigger image.
Traditional Atlantic salmon flies are strange things, surreal colorful attractors (or annoyers?) to tempt a quarry that does not eat in the rivers where it spawns. They are huge, complex, Victorian or Edwardian, made of almost ridiculous numbers of species, and I have always wanted one. Now I have a fabulous original. Pete writes of its composition:
"The fly is called “The Dali”, designed by Mark Waslick, a photographer, fly tier, etc. from Vermont. The pattern uses the Mearns Quail feathers that you so graciously sent to me. There are four sections to this pattern each are veiled at the top, bottom and both sides with jungle cock. In the second section from the rear you will see first a pair of black spotted wing covert feathers, back to back, and white spotted breast feathers. At the fourth section behind the head there are two more black spotted covert feathers, back to back. The wings are made of individual strips of colored turkey tail feathers with Amherst pheasant tail. The blue cheek feathers at the base of each wing section are Blue chatterer substitute, Asian jay. The keel feathers on the bottom of the fly are peacock crest feathers. The gold tail feather and topping feathers are from the head of the Golden pheasant."
All I can add is "!!!!" Right or double click for bigger image.
Tigger's Pups #1
Courtesy of John Burchard, who bred them, and Daniela Imre, a co- "grandparent" of the human species: the wonderful rainbow litter of Tigger, bred here, and Prince. Multicolor, smooth and feathered, Kazakh & Arab; all progenitors hunters: the ultimate Silk Road US litter!
I am tempted by the little brindle girl and the feathered tri(s?), but health, poverty, and the desire to have a pup with Taika's genes say no.. as I say, tempted.
There will be more photos.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Uhlan: Tazi Self -Esteem
My old friend David Zincavage has a blog featuring his patented brand of ferocity and political opinion (see "Never Yet Melted" in blogroll) but when writing on his own canine companions to his friends he is at his funniest. Here he is on Uhlan, who, it will not surprise you to know, is Ataika's nephew:
"Until we met Uhlan, Karen and I had been unaware that Kazakhstan resembled California, having no rain and a perfect year-around 70 degree temperature, and that tazy dogs were waited on hand and foot by obedient human beings who answered to their every whim. I have yet to figure out exactly what delicacies are prepared daily in Kazakhstan, but our tazy is extremely fussy and conservative about food normally. He won't eat organ meats from chickens or turkeys. He looks unfavorably on unfamiliar dog treats and lump-style canned dog food. His daily Alpo has to be varied regularly, or he's perfectly capable of turning up his black nose and skipping dinner altogether. His preferred flavors of dog food change frequently. But he will eat dead groundhog (fur and all) happily day after day! Someday, we have to visit Kazakhstan to see all the tazy sultans living in their palaces with all the human servants."
Further: "What does not seem generally recognized are the dramatic and oratorical abilities of the tazy. Uhlan has a piteous "ook, ook, ook!" sound used to make you drop whatever you are doing and come and let him in immediately. When he doesn't get his way (you don't hop to it, and let him out, or you fail to give him his third milk bone of the morning), he delivers long speeches in tazy, obviously loaded with curses and abuse, accompanied by amazingly threatening facial expressions, lips curled, teeth bared. If the human still resists, Uhlan will proceed to perform his own personal version of the death scene from Hamlet, accompanied by a soliloquy delivered in increasingly rising volume making it only too clear how terrible the suffering that poor doggie is enduring really is. He can be made to stop only by the most vivid and direct threats."
Uhlan with remains of Marmota monax:
Water: none for six days and counting...
I will continue to note this until the jackasses (with the help of some good people) get it fixed.
"Until we met Uhlan, Karen and I had been unaware that Kazakhstan resembled California, having no rain and a perfect year-around 70 degree temperature, and that tazy dogs were waited on hand and foot by obedient human beings who answered to their every whim. I have yet to figure out exactly what delicacies are prepared daily in Kazakhstan, but our tazy is extremely fussy and conservative about food normally. He won't eat organ meats from chickens or turkeys. He looks unfavorably on unfamiliar dog treats and lump-style canned dog food. His daily Alpo has to be varied regularly, or he's perfectly capable of turning up his black nose and skipping dinner altogether. His preferred flavors of dog food change frequently. But he will eat dead groundhog (fur and all) happily day after day! Someday, we have to visit Kazakhstan to see all the tazy sultans living in their palaces with all the human servants."
Further: "What does not seem generally recognized are the dramatic and oratorical abilities of the tazy. Uhlan has a piteous "ook, ook, ook!" sound used to make you drop whatever you are doing and come and let him in immediately. When he doesn't get his way (you don't hop to it, and let him out, or you fail to give him his third milk bone of the morning), he delivers long speeches in tazy, obviously loaded with curses and abuse, accompanied by amazingly threatening facial expressions, lips curled, teeth bared. If the human still resists, Uhlan will proceed to perform his own personal version of the death scene from Hamlet, accompanied by a soliloquy delivered in increasingly rising volume making it only too clear how terrible the suffering that poor doggie is enduring really is. He can be made to stop only by the most vivid and direct threats."
Uhlan with remains of Marmota monax:
Water: none for six days and counting...
I will continue to note this until the jackasses (with the help of some good people) get it fixed.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Quick Update re Water
Going to Albuquerque for the second time in three days, trying to get Passenger pigeons up and flying, and generally overcommitted. But the water news has been ludicrously inadequate. We should never have lost water, and should have it back in a week; the situation only has a tenuous connection with drought.
Everything I see on the news is off. The marshall is being diplomatic but it is ludicrous to blame the guy who has been trying to warn everybody for years, or to equate him with the mayor he has been opposing that long. The mayor and some other officials made real life mistakes and bad decisions, turning down plans to put in backup pumps and dig, losing and misfiling documents and not getting in applications on time. The guy who says they are all to blame is running against the mayor but why he is equating the mayor and the marshall is beyond me. In fact the real drought barely has anything to do with the situation-- we should have faced it with a new pump & well, a backup, and three full auxiliary tanks.
Also we are NOT "absolutely without water", and NOT restricted to two bottles a day. Every private well including one or two in town is delivering normal amounts, as are all on ranches. I have lived through two other water- restricted droughts here as has anyone who has been here any length of time. We don't have more "seniors" than any normal town, and they tend to be more tough and philosophical than newcomers. The whole thing makes me realize just how incompetent today's reporters are. Virtually everyone in town knows all of the above!
Everything I see on the news is off. The marshall is being diplomatic but it is ludicrous to blame the guy who has been trying to warn everybody for years, or to equate him with the mayor he has been opposing that long. The mayor and some other officials made real life mistakes and bad decisions, turning down plans to put in backup pumps and dig, losing and misfiling documents and not getting in applications on time. The guy who says they are all to blame is running against the mayor but why he is equating the mayor and the marshall is beyond me. In fact the real drought barely has anything to do with the situation-- we should have faced it with a new pump & well, a backup, and three full auxiliary tanks.
Also we are NOT "absolutely without water", and NOT restricted to two bottles a day. Every private well including one or two in town is delivering normal amounts, as are all on ranches. I have lived through two other water- restricted droughts here as has anyone who has been here any length of time. We don't have more "seniors" than any normal town, and they tend to be more tough and philosophical than newcomers. The whole thing makes me realize just how incompetent today's reporters are. Virtually everyone in town knows all of the above!
Thursday, June 06, 2013
Breaking News
Magdalena has gone national and may be on your evening news, but for an infuriating reason: our little town has just lost all its water in a well collapse, and though ranches with their own wells are all right, there is no water available for our village-- around a thousand residents-- and therefore none in a 60 mile stretch of Route 60 between Socorro and Datil. Of course ranchers still have wells (though the drought has lowered levels in many) but driving 12 miles on rough roads to take a shower is not an attractive option.
Our crisis may symbolize the emerging conditions in the New West. Everybody concerned kicked the problem down the road. The state dragged its collective feet on the necessary permits, then piled on rather than helping. State inspectors actually came in and tried to shut down all our businesses and the gas stations because they had no potable water. Bar owner Darrell Pettis and Bob Winston of Winston's garage resisted, and so far everything is open. Darrell and filmmaker Matt Middleton got a few minutes on Albuquerque TV explaining the difficulty of life here and the political indifference of the state to the fate of tiny old remote towns. Do the idiots sent to inspect us and shut down our only social links and sources for food and drink realize what stress that would add to an already angry populace?
This is just a rushed beginning for what will doubtless be continuing coverage of the crisis. Estimates of the time needed to fix the well range from a couple of days to a MONTH. And yes, there are important connections to our ongoing water hijacking crisis-- hit the search box with the words"water" or Plains of San Augustin, or go to the site for the Golden Spur for more news...
UPDATE: For now at least, a video from KOB TV here, featuring Marshall Larry Cearley, filmmaker and water activist Matt Middleton, and Spur owner Darrell Pettis, all of whom have been working on the problem.
Our crisis may symbolize the emerging conditions in the New West. Everybody concerned kicked the problem down the road. The state dragged its collective feet on the necessary permits, then piled on rather than helping. State inspectors actually came in and tried to shut down all our businesses and the gas stations because they had no potable water. Bar owner Darrell Pettis and Bob Winston of Winston's garage resisted, and so far everything is open. Darrell and filmmaker Matt Middleton got a few minutes on Albuquerque TV explaining the difficulty of life here and the political indifference of the state to the fate of tiny old remote towns. Do the idiots sent to inspect us and shut down our only social links and sources for food and drink realize what stress that would add to an already angry populace?
This is just a rushed beginning for what will doubtless be continuing coverage of the crisis. Estimates of the time needed to fix the well range from a couple of days to a MONTH. And yes, there are important connections to our ongoing water hijacking crisis-- hit the search box with the words"water" or Plains of San Augustin, or go to the site for the Golden Spur for more news...
UPDATE: For now at least, a video from KOB TV here, featuring Marshall Larry Cearley, filmmaker and water activist Matt Middleton, and Spur owner Darrell Pettis, all of whom have been working on the problem.
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
Mammoth Spring
Last Sunday, Connie, my father and I drove from Jonesboro up into the Arkansas Ozarks to Mammoth Spring State Park. Mammoth Spring is located a hundred yards or so south of the Arkansas/Missouri line and is aptly named, with a flow of 9 million gallons an hour. It is the source of Spring River that flows south deeper into Arkansas. The bone-chilling water provides a great trout fishery. I've been fishing up there with my family since I was about four years old.
We were lucky enough to see a fairly large flock of wood ducks paddling around in the spring, a species I don't see much in Colorado. I got a picture of what Connie referred to as a "flotilla of drakes."
Also quite a few mothers and ducklings.
Several hundred yards downstream from the spring, a dam of cut local stone was built in the 1880s. It was originally used to power mills, but hydroelectric generators were installed here in the 1920s. It was used for hydroelectric power into the 1990s.
Monday, June 03, 2013
Carol Farmer Lofton, RIP
Carol (1958 - 2013) my younger sister and only sibling, died in Jonesboro, Arkansas last week after a mercifully brief struggle with lung cancer. I've posted her school picture from First Grade, as it shows her as the funny and vivacious girl that I always like to remember.
Sunday, June 02, 2013
Short Pause for Learning New Stuff
If I am slow for the next couple of days please forgive me, as it is becoming uncomfortable to sit in this chair and it has been hard to type for a long time. I'm spending the next few days learning to use the iPad and training the dictation software.
Wish me luck. I think it may be much easier to produce material with that technology than with the current one, especially if I can do it almost anywhere.
Wish me luck. I think it may be much easier to produce material with that technology than with the current one, especially if I can do it almost anywhere.
Monday, May 27, 2013
James Wentworth Day and big shoulder guns
Perhaps because I grew up on the New England coast, living a hunter- gatherer's life and shooting magnum twelves and tens like my father before me, I have always been fascinated by England's big bores-- defined here as the gauges above ten that were made illegal when the first legislation to protect waterfowl from commercial gunners was passed after the first world war.
Looking back, one suspects that it was almost a class prejudice thing that spawned such an arbitrary rule; the wealthy eastern gentlemen who drafted the new rules associated big guns with uncouth Chesapeake Bay watermen, and they made an upper limit of ten gauge because nobody they knew shot anything larger. I would argue, as did conservation writer George Reiger, that bore is irrelevant; the only factor in saving birds is the number of a species you kill, and the big bores were difficult specialist's guns used by experts to bring down single birds at a distance. If I could shoot an eight and had access to a place where I could pass shoot at high geese, I would. It is worth mentioning that you might "lead" such a goose by ten goose lengths at distances above sixty yards, where specialist 8's and 4's come into their own. (One of the few American masters of the big bore, Idaho's Elmer Keith, shot a magnum ten, a gun with the shot load of a light eight, and I know two people who saw him make seventy yard shots).
Today, the working big guns that once were shot by the humble as well as the educated romantic are being "commodified" and disappearing into collectors hands, never to be shot again. (see the Holland below, which is expected to go for over $20,000 at auction). A few lower- priced big guns have been made in Spain or Italy or as English one- off guns like the big two I wrote about last week. The classic English guns are mostly being retired and hoarded or sold to the US where they can't be shot at migratory birds, so I was delighted with the news that James Wentworth Day's huge Roaring Emma, an 8- bore of the heaviest configuration, had gone back home to hunt on the English coast.
And yes, "she" is big. Shooting friends know my exasperation at the Nash Buckingham/ George Evans- promoted fallacy that our magnum twelves were eight bore equivalents; they didn't equal light eights, never mind magnums like Emma, built in the early 1870's and shot today.
Pete Humphreys on her specs : "4 1/4 chamber with brass cases made by Allen Meyers. 3 ozs of bb's. The gun is approx 18lbs but short in the stock and handles like a 20 bore. Note that the stock has hole in it and the triggers have drilled holes so they can be wired together and fires simultaneously on a punt boat. The hole in the stock is for a rope to hold the gun on the punt."
Further on this particular load: "... dad met Jimmy WD in the later years of his life. Dad visited him at his home and spent an afternoon with him. WD was almost blind and health failing. Dad was possessed with Emma and JWD's writings. They talked in great detail about the Emma. WD had sold it on long ago.
"At one point during the visit he asked dad to located a rusty old cookie box (biscuit tin). The box was tucked in a mass of clutter as WD was a hoarder. On the tin in pen it had the words "Emma" written on it. WD told dad to open the box and inside were a handful of the original 4 1/4 inch ELEY cases that were his loads for Emma. WD told dad to take 2 for his collection. I remember the cartridges vividly. I'm sure they went with the gun to its new home. Dad wrote JWD's obituary for the Shooting Times.
"Dad originally had a 3 1/4 inch 8 bore and had lots of modern loads in that case length. He would shoot those through Emma to save on the good brass loads as he only had 20 cases made in 4 1/4 brass. He couldn't figure out why his kill rate was awful with the shorter loads. He realized, with help from my father in law and a pattern plate that the pattern was being "blown" with the short cases. The combs [forcing cones?] on the 4 1/4 chambers are so big, the gases would escape around the shot and blow the pattern of the shorter 3 1/4 cases.
"He only shot 4 1/4 cases from then on and the gun came back to life and a real hard shooting gun. Would kill geese at 50 yards like a 12 bore kills pigeons at 20 yards.
"I was standing next to my brother David when he dropped a right and left at pinks with Emma. Brilliant stuff. We were taking it in turns to shoot her w dad watching on from the depths of the ditch we were hiding in. Tall birds that threw their heads back and folded up stone dead to smack on the field with a loud thud. "
When I was researching this material, I came upon this photo of JWD and assorted paraphernalia in the postwar edition of his Modern Fowler.
When I looked at it I wondered about the gun and when I put it under a magnifying glass I saw the stock hole. Emma!
And here is a Holland and Holland hammerless eight, doubtless headed for some rich man's collection. I wouldn't mind if I thought he might shoot it.
Still to come: the story of Emma's return to England... and better photos of "her".
Looking back, one suspects that it was almost a class prejudice thing that spawned such an arbitrary rule; the wealthy eastern gentlemen who drafted the new rules associated big guns with uncouth Chesapeake Bay watermen, and they made an upper limit of ten gauge because nobody they knew shot anything larger. I would argue, as did conservation writer George Reiger, that bore is irrelevant; the only factor in saving birds is the number of a species you kill, and the big bores were difficult specialist's guns used by experts to bring down single birds at a distance. If I could shoot an eight and had access to a place where I could pass shoot at high geese, I would. It is worth mentioning that you might "lead" such a goose by ten goose lengths at distances above sixty yards, where specialist 8's and 4's come into their own. (One of the few American masters of the big bore, Idaho's Elmer Keith, shot a magnum ten, a gun with the shot load of a light eight, and I know two people who saw him make seventy yard shots).
Today, the working big guns that once were shot by the humble as well as the educated romantic are being "commodified" and disappearing into collectors hands, never to be shot again. (see the Holland below, which is expected to go for over $20,000 at auction). A few lower- priced big guns have been made in Spain or Italy or as English one- off guns like the big two I wrote about last week. The classic English guns are mostly being retired and hoarded or sold to the US where they can't be shot at migratory birds, so I was delighted with the news that James Wentworth Day's huge Roaring Emma, an 8- bore of the heaviest configuration, had gone back home to hunt on the English coast.
And yes, "she" is big. Shooting friends know my exasperation at the Nash Buckingham/ George Evans- promoted fallacy that our magnum twelves were eight bore equivalents; they didn't equal light eights, never mind magnums like Emma, built in the early 1870's and shot today.
Pete Humphreys on her specs : "4 1/4 chamber with brass cases made by Allen Meyers. 3 ozs of bb's. The gun is approx 18lbs but short in the stock and handles like a 20 bore. Note that the stock has hole in it and the triggers have drilled holes so they can be wired together and fires simultaneously on a punt boat. The hole in the stock is for a rope to hold the gun on the punt."
Further on this particular load: "... dad met Jimmy WD in the later years of his life. Dad visited him at his home and spent an afternoon with him. WD was almost blind and health failing. Dad was possessed with Emma and JWD's writings. They talked in great detail about the Emma. WD had sold it on long ago.
"At one point during the visit he asked dad to located a rusty old cookie box (biscuit tin). The box was tucked in a mass of clutter as WD was a hoarder. On the tin in pen it had the words "Emma" written on it. WD told dad to open the box and inside were a handful of the original 4 1/4 inch ELEY cases that were his loads for Emma. WD told dad to take 2 for his collection. I remember the cartridges vividly. I'm sure they went with the gun to its new home. Dad wrote JWD's obituary for the Shooting Times.
"Dad originally had a 3 1/4 inch 8 bore and had lots of modern loads in that case length. He would shoot those through Emma to save on the good brass loads as he only had 20 cases made in 4 1/4 brass. He couldn't figure out why his kill rate was awful with the shorter loads. He realized, with help from my father in law and a pattern plate that the pattern was being "blown" with the short cases. The combs [forcing cones?] on the 4 1/4 chambers are so big, the gases would escape around the shot and blow the pattern of the shorter 3 1/4 cases.
"He only shot 4 1/4 cases from then on and the gun came back to life and a real hard shooting gun. Would kill geese at 50 yards like a 12 bore kills pigeons at 20 yards.
"I was standing next to my brother David when he dropped a right and left at pinks with Emma. Brilliant stuff. We were taking it in turns to shoot her w dad watching on from the depths of the ditch we were hiding in. Tall birds that threw their heads back and folded up stone dead to smack on the field with a loud thud. "
When I was researching this material, I came upon this photo of JWD and assorted paraphernalia in the postwar edition of his Modern Fowler.
When I looked at it I wondered about the gun and when I put it under a magnifying glass I saw the stock hole. Emma!
And here is a Holland and Holland hammerless eight, doubtless headed for some rich man's collection. I wouldn't mind if I thought he might shoot it.
Still to come: the story of Emma's return to England... and better photos of "her".
Punt Guns
I have been in touch recently with Pete Humphreys, son of the man who brought Roaring Emma, the sporting writer James Wentworth Day's 140- year old magnum 8 bore Joseph Lang, back to England. Pete is an all- round sportsman himself and heir to a rich heritage, especially in wildfowling, and a font of what may seem to be arcane lore to an American.
Americans, when they think of England, usually picture "driven" shoots and reared pheasants, using guns that cost as much as my house; more a rarefied and difficult mixture of farming and a shooting game than a communion with the wild. English coastal wildfowling, with its big guns and more egalitarian nature, is less familiar. In England, punt guns were for adventurers and romantics, not poachers or market hunters*; the possibility of a big shot was balanced by the difficulty of stalking birds on open water and the danger of going out on winter seas in a kayak- like craft, armed with a cannon that might weigh over 100 pounds. Some seasons you might get only one or two good shots; in Colin Willock's book The Gun-Punt Adventure, published in 1958 and covered in my new book on sporting books, his first season's best shot was all of seven birds!
My old friend John "Johnny UK" Hill says it well: "... long may a few, specialist, intrepid 'fowlers ply the wild estuaries around the UK!... I have seen them depart from [wildfowler, conservationist, and artist] Peter Scott's lighthouse at Sutton Bridge, and later return, counting them back like old time aircraft, as if the weather changes, it can be a very dangerous activity. Local knowledge of tides, sandbanks and weather is crucial, [though] mobile phones and improved rescue services have mediated the modern day risk a little!" In a crowded island, the edge of the sea is still the edge of wilderness, danger, and adventure.
If you simply look at a punt gun you can see it is big, but how big? The one illustrated in the post below-- here is a shot from the gunner's perspective-- is one of three DOUBLE punt guns made by Holland and Holland, this one in 1900; it weighs 250 pounds and shoots twenty ounces of shot from each barrel.
Its owner also has a single- barreled Patstone with a 1 3/4 bore that shoots 32 ounces of BB's with 5 of black powder! (They got one shot last year). The Holland is, like all of its maker's products, something special, and has what may be a unique feature; according to Pete "The locks are set up so the 2 shots go off with a tiny delay... when the first barrel goes off, the gun lifts and the birds jump. The second barrel goes a split second later to shoot through the flock as it lifts." Or at least this is the theory; I suspect getting such a shot is still a product ot determination, skill, and luck.
Below, some illos from the ninth Edition of Greener's The Gun (1910), showing various punt gun actions. The last is a single H & H; put two side by side and you have an approximation of the one in the photos.
* Probably the greatest slaughter for commerce was accomplished with 12 bore repeaters rather than big guns. Browning patent autoloaders were favorites, though market hunters favored (prohibited) extended magazines. The number of birds rather than the nature of the tool was still the only factor that affected conservation, though I suppose banning a tool was not as stupid as, say, banning Italian immigrants ( a solution advocated along with banning Browning A5's by the irascible William Hornaday).
Americans, when they think of England, usually picture "driven" shoots and reared pheasants, using guns that cost as much as my house; more a rarefied and difficult mixture of farming and a shooting game than a communion with the wild. English coastal wildfowling, with its big guns and more egalitarian nature, is less familiar. In England, punt guns were for adventurers and romantics, not poachers or market hunters*; the possibility of a big shot was balanced by the difficulty of stalking birds on open water and the danger of going out on winter seas in a kayak- like craft, armed with a cannon that might weigh over 100 pounds. Some seasons you might get only one or two good shots; in Colin Willock's book The Gun-Punt Adventure, published in 1958 and covered in my new book on sporting books, his first season's best shot was all of seven birds!
My old friend John "Johnny UK" Hill says it well: "... long may a few, specialist, intrepid 'fowlers ply the wild estuaries around the UK!... I have seen them depart from [wildfowler, conservationist, and artist] Peter Scott's lighthouse at Sutton Bridge, and later return, counting them back like old time aircraft, as if the weather changes, it can be a very dangerous activity. Local knowledge of tides, sandbanks and weather is crucial, [though] mobile phones and improved rescue services have mediated the modern day risk a little!" In a crowded island, the edge of the sea is still the edge of wilderness, danger, and adventure.
If you simply look at a punt gun you can see it is big, but how big? The one illustrated in the post below-- here is a shot from the gunner's perspective-- is one of three DOUBLE punt guns made by Holland and Holland, this one in 1900; it weighs 250 pounds and shoots twenty ounces of shot from each barrel.
Below, some illos from the ninth Edition of Greener's The Gun (1910), showing various punt gun actions. The last is a single H & H; put two side by side and you have an approximation of the one in the photos.
* Probably the greatest slaughter for commerce was accomplished with 12 bore repeaters rather than big guns. Browning patent autoloaders were favorites, though market hunters favored (prohibited) extended magazines. The number of birds rather than the nature of the tool was still the only factor that affected conservation, though I suppose banning a tool was not as stupid as, say, banning Italian immigrants ( a solution advocated along with banning Browning A5's by the irascible William Hornaday).
Sunday, May 26, 2013
On losing a dog
Unfortunately, as Kipling and (even) Ogden Nash knew, a recurrent event given our disparate life spans. Tom McIntyre's Kaycee died suddenly at four last week, after a joyous bout of play. Tom reflects:
"
The
death of a dog teaches what a tenuous, suspended by a silk thread
thing life is. And yet, the wonder is not in how easily and
perplexingly they die, but how truly alive they can be. It is not
just about dog years, but dog days, even dog minutes. If I “only”
had four years with him, I would have settled for ten seconds. And
wished for forever. Because he was my friend."
Friday, May 24, 2013
Quote
From Michael Gruber's blog, true and witty but not funny:
"I don't much like to talk about my work while it's in progress or read reviews or give encouragement to people trying to enter a profession I know to be a miserable way to make a living, with a premature death rate that compares unfavorably to coal mining."
That one would rather do nothing else is a separate matter.
"I don't much like to talk about my work while it's in progress or read reviews or give encouragement to people trying to enter a profession I know to be a miserable way to make a living, with a premature death rate that compares unfavorably to coal mining."
That one would rather do nothing else is a separate matter.
My computer has just had a mental breakdown!
Apologies. Actually the blog and webs seem fine. The mail and some other things are off. I get but cannot receive mail (I get large attachments so that is not the trouble). Regular correspondents are being dumped in the spam file. And oddest of all, I can download photos from my camera, but cannot edit or open or export them-- although I can see thumbnails the program insists they do not exist. I cannot export them, and while I was trying to, over 300 photos from my "art" folder suddenly dumped into IPhoto in a few seconds, and I only stopped it dumping thousands I have stored by pulling the plug! Yikes.
So apologies to the regular circle, to John M and Dr John B, and especially to Pete Humphreys, who is sending me great material on "Roaring Emma". I'll be back-- actually I may just be able to get through on Libby's new IPad, which I have been tardy in learning as I have been working overtime...
So apologies to the regular circle, to John M and Dr John B, and especially to Pete Humphreys, who is sending me great material on "Roaring Emma". I'll be back-- actually I may just be able to get through on Libby's new IPad, which I have been tardy in learning as I have been working overtime...
Gun Quiz Solution
It was (obviously?) an 1895 Winchester, most famed as Teddy Roosevelt's lion gun in Africa, using its odd heavy load, the .405 Winchester. It was a relatively strong action, and because it had a box magazine* rather than the typical tubular ones on most leverguns, it could shoot modern spitzer type loads like the .30- 06.
But what this specimen looks like is the front of an old bolt action military rifle grafted on to a "cowboy" rear. Because that is exactly what it is. It is '95, but one made for the Czar's army before the Russian revolution, in the old Mosin Nagant caliber, 7.62 x 54 Russian.
The interesting thing to me is that they made 300,000 or so in this caliber, 70 % of all production, more than they did of .405 Winchester, .30-06, .30-40 Krag, and .303 British COMBINED. They sent almost all of them to Russia-- and they flat- out disappeared. Those that don't know Russia say, well, the Soviets had strict gun control. But though that is to an extent true, I have seen SKS's, Mosins, AK's "Baikal" shotguns, and even CZ Mauser sporters everywhere in Central Asia and never a hint of a 95 Winchester. I think there must still be a stack of crates in a cave in the Urals...
(More negative evidence for what it is worth: the Chinese have even harsher gun control, up to the death penalty, AND the demented sixties youth movement known as the Red Guard once tried to destroy all 45's because they were a "bourgeois caliber". But I have seen more Chinese Broomhandles in .45 ACP for sale, albeit for absurdly high prices-- $5000!-- than I have Russian Winchesters).
The owner of this one has a theory. He writes in part: " [My girlfriend's grandfather]... in Finland passed away a few months ago. He acquired the firearm during the 1950s or 1960s as his first moose-rifle... you may be wondering how a Finn acquired the 1895. Well, 70% of the rifles were produced for Imperial Russia before the model was discontinued in 1936. The rejected rifles were resold on American commercial market. The 1895 can use the same stripper clip as the 1891 Mosin Nagants. However most of them ended up in Finland and Baltic states before the October Revolution of 1917. Some of them were reissued by the Soviets for the Spanish Civil War. This particular rifle produced in 1907 survived World War I, Finnish Civil War, Winter War, Continuum War and Lapland War. "
He adds: "... after the Civil War, many of '95 were converted to 8.2x53mmR or 9.3x35mmR during the interwar period for moose-hunting because of the hunting laws they had during that time period which only allowed 8mm or larger calibre. Those which survived to serve in the Winter War without being modified into hunting rifles were either converted to 7.62x53mm or left intact... My Finnish contact said one can still find a lot of people still hunting with them in Lithuania or Latvia... "
Correction: Dave, the owner, writes: "The 9mm round is: 9.3x53mmR, not 9.3x35mmR."
Which I believe. But surely not all 300,000! See comments for more thoughts.
UPDATE: Bruce Douglas (he appears a few posts below with two flavors of Broomhandle Mausers) reminds us that the rifle makes an appearance in the last great work of Akira Kurosawa, Dersu Uzala, carried by Captain Arseniev. Arseniev's Dersu the Hunter is also in my new book of one hundred books.
*Elmer Keith disliked the protruding magazine and said it looked like the belly of a poisoned pup.
But what this specimen looks like is the front of an old bolt action military rifle grafted on to a "cowboy" rear. Because that is exactly what it is. It is '95, but one made for the Czar's army before the Russian revolution, in the old Mosin Nagant caliber, 7.62 x 54 Russian.
The interesting thing to me is that they made 300,000 or so in this caliber, 70 % of all production, more than they did of .405 Winchester, .30-06, .30-40 Krag, and .303 British COMBINED. They sent almost all of them to Russia-- and they flat- out disappeared. Those that don't know Russia say, well, the Soviets had strict gun control. But though that is to an extent true, I have seen SKS's, Mosins, AK's "Baikal" shotguns, and even CZ Mauser sporters everywhere in Central Asia and never a hint of a 95 Winchester. I think there must still be a stack of crates in a cave in the Urals...
(More negative evidence for what it is worth: the Chinese have even harsher gun control, up to the death penalty, AND the demented sixties youth movement known as the Red Guard once tried to destroy all 45's because they were a "bourgeois caliber". But I have seen more Chinese Broomhandles in .45 ACP for sale, albeit for absurdly high prices-- $5000!-- than I have Russian Winchesters).
The owner of this one has a theory. He writes in part: " [My girlfriend's grandfather]... in Finland passed away a few months ago. He acquired the firearm during the 1950s or 1960s as his first moose-rifle... you may be wondering how a Finn acquired the 1895. Well, 70% of the rifles were produced for Imperial Russia before the model was discontinued in 1936. The rejected rifles were resold on American commercial market. The 1895 can use the same stripper clip as the 1891 Mosin Nagants. However most of them ended up in Finland and Baltic states before the October Revolution of 1917. Some of them were reissued by the Soviets for the Spanish Civil War. This particular rifle produced in 1907 survived World War I, Finnish Civil War, Winter War, Continuum War and Lapland War. "
He adds: "... after the Civil War, many of '95 were converted to 8.2x53mmR or 9.3x35mmR during the interwar period for moose-hunting because of the hunting laws they had during that time period which only allowed 8mm or larger calibre. Those which survived to serve in the Winter War without being modified into hunting rifles were either converted to 7.62x53mm or left intact... My Finnish contact said one can still find a lot of people still hunting with them in Lithuania or Latvia... "
Correction: Dave, the owner, writes: "The 9mm round is: 9.3x53mmR, not 9.3x35mmR."
UPDATE: Bruce Douglas (he appears a few posts below with two flavors of Broomhandle Mausers) reminds us that the rifle makes an appearance in the last great work of Akira Kurosawa, Dersu Uzala, carried by Captain Arseniev. Arseniev's Dersu the Hunter is also in my new book of one hundred books.
*Elmer Keith disliked the protruding magazine and said it looked like the belly of a poisoned pup.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Miles City is still in Montana*
I just saw the video below and am trying to give it some publicity. It is ostensibly an interview with Miles City writer, rancher, and horseman John Moore about the Miles City Bucking horse sale, but he touches on the strange way that difficult life skills have been transmuted into (often expensive) play.
When he talks about the "fire" being bred out of today's horses I can nod, knowing that European and city breeders are trying to do that to my tazis. He introduced me to the eye- rolling term "pasture ornament ", for a horse that just stands around,and looks pretty, about like Libby's "supermodel dog". He know all beings are best off with the right work to do, unlike the show salukis of the woman who once said my dogs must be mutts because they had muscles.
Read, smile, shake your head, pass it on.
* When Libby was leaving Bozeman 20 or so years ago I was ranting about idiots there to the owner of the Feed Store, who lamented, "This used to be Montana..."
When he talks about the "fire" being bred out of today's horses I can nod, knowing that European and city breeders are trying to do that to my tazis. He introduced me to the eye- rolling term "pasture ornament ", for a horse that just stands around,and looks pretty, about like Libby's "supermodel dog". He know all beings are best off with the right work to do, unlike the show salukis of the woman who once said my dogs must be mutts because they had muscles.
Read, smile, shake your head, pass it on.
* When Libby was leaving Bozeman 20 or so years ago I was ranting about idiots there to the owner of the Feed Store, who lamented, "This used to be Montana..."
Sunday, May 19, 2013
White Pelican
A week ago Saturday, Connie and I went up to Barr Lake State Park, a local birding hot spot. I thought you might enjoy this picture of a white pelican we saw there, one of the many who visit here in the summer. It seems every time I see them I am astonished anew at how big they are.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Passenger Pigeons Again...
Another little sample from my evolving proposal:
After the Ice
... I will draw on contemporary scholarship from Pielou to Paul Martin to
paint a picture of the late glacial world – one with little place
for the passenger pigeon as a major ecological actor. One keystone
will be Australian ecologist Tim Flannery’s (The Eternal
Frontier) hypothesis that the North American continent, by virtue
of its shape, weather, and geology, has never had a stable
environment, especially since the last glaciation.
Friends & Family, Music & Words, Past & Present
My sister Karen Graham, here with Tom, her husband George, and Tom's wife Nadine, remembers my going there when she was a child, and the little printed ad sheets I used to keep under the glass of my desktop when I was still in high school.
Bronwen Fullington, a friend since '68 or so, saw the other pic and said "It hasn't changed a bit since then!" Looks like the same old tiny cellar...
Tom may be as good a writer of words as songs. Buy his book, with all the lyrics and tons of anecdote and history.
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