Hunting with OLD rare cartridges.

After reading this thread yesterday I went straight to the gun room and selected a few old CIL items that induced fond memories. All are old and some of them smell nice. This is for the old farts who are old enough to remember that CIL produced world class ammunition and components until the 1970's. The photo shows only a very small selection of the wide variety of items they manufactured. The old Hoppes bottle is included because it smelled so good.
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The following shows my great nephew with his 1st buck. Great memories for both of us.
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Just spent the afternoon at the range shooting some of my old girls I hadn't shot yet, a full oct, full mag 94 38-55, which shot factories expeptionally well at 100 mtrs. Didn't bother to set up targets but dirt lumps in the snow every time, I was impressed. I was having so much fun I went through 50 rds.
60 rounds from my 95 405, the first 40 were fun the last 20 were a bit of a chore. It hit point of aim at 200 mtrs and seemed quite consistent, certainly a rabbit would have been in great danger.
50 rds from my 95 in 35 win needs some more loads and paper to tweek it right in, also fireformed some Krag to make more brass, doesn't look great, may have to go back to the drawing board there.
Great afternoon -4 and not a breath of wind. Got my fingers crossed for tomorrow.
 
senior said:
I assume you meant a 1895 Marlin ;)

Yes I've hunted with 38-56, Trapdoor 45-70, 38-40, 32-40, 25-35, 45-60, 40-65 but mostly now my old caliber hunting consists of 38-55, 33wcf & soon a 50-70 US crossed sword stamped RB:)
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Yep, 1895. Brain fart.
 
i can smell the imperial shells. i dont know whybut its unforgettable. Never shot many as i was young when they disappered, but the older brothers and dad shot some. didnt matter though as i was with and we had fun. I didnt know to this date that others could identify this smell as well.
 
Neo you are true Poet and didn't know it! A++ , I think I will save to favorites for those days you wish you were young and again, when your father was the bravest, made of steel, and protected you from all harm.
I have been very fortunate in my life having all the important men in my life teach me to hunt, fish, work and treat people fair and kindly. It isnt till I think your middle aged that you look back and realize how privilidge you were to grow up among these men, and in turn realize you must do the same to other young men and women in your life.
The pictures of those old MAXUM shells bring back recent memories as I am fortunate to have 2 good friends who are in the gun buisness who donate these old 12 gauge shells for my partridge hunting, been shooting these off for the last 3 years, haven't had to buy or reload a shell for the old Cooey 84! My young 13 year old nephew saves them after there fired and does the same thing you all did, sit and smell them while we drive down the road looking for better partridge ground to hunt!
One gun I have yet to try is my Turn of the Century C.W. Andrews SHOT & BALL 12 ga, this will be my next gun to get resurected from non use for the last 70 years!
cheers Dale Z!
 
3macs1 said:
Not cartridges but old paper shotshells for sure especially the old roll crimp imperials etc. I take the 16ga my grandfather bought me in the 60's and smell each shell after firing just like he did. Makes me feel many days he is still with me hunting. :)
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I love that smell on an early fall morning.
 
Neo said:
They smell like the poplar leaves scattered throughout the October woods, and like the spruce bog you hike across to get there. They smell like the two ruffed grouse you carry by their feet in your left hand as you walk down the trail with your shotgun in your right. They smell like the crisp autumn wind, as it swirls beneath the late morning sun busily trying to burn off the morning's frost.

They smell like the sandwich and the crisp, juicy apple you stop to have for lunch before having to turn around for the afternoon's walk back to the truck. They smell like the cooling air as the sun starts to move over the trees and begin its leisurely descent. But most of all, they smell like the man who walked beside you as you did all this. The man who taught you and got you started on this endless journey called hunting. The man who carried the same single shot twelve gauge for as long as you can remember. The man who once accidentally dropped a slug into the chamber and still managed to hit a bird on the wing -- what a story that was for awhile, something that only the two of you shared. The man who, yes indeed, always had a handful of Imperial paper-cased shells in the pocket of his hunting jacket.

Yes, most of all, they smell like Dad.

God, I miss him.
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Right on Neo.

You have me mentally picturing one of those Norman Rockwell calendars we used to see in old barber shops buddy!!

Thank you sir............
 
Ah HUH. I finally found out which post attracts the poets, romantics & assorted grey-haired ne'er-do-wells, such as myself.

Neo: I think you've been to the Dark Continent a few too many times, that a bit of Ernie & Bob has brushed off on you!

Nonetheless, I, as apparently a number of others, had a tear in my eye, thinking about the times with Dad a long, long time ago. Thank you for that, Sir.

The smell of old Canuck paper hulls shells! Wow, doesn't that take you back! My grand-kids have commented about that when we go to the range at the cottage & I mentioned this to my 33 year old son tonight after first reading this & he chuckled when he said that always reminded him of him & I when I first taught him to shoot back in Grande Prairie.

How about the smell of "Whiz-Bangs" from your Cooey at the dump? Anyone else remember that?

Or old surplus 303 cartridges that had the points cut off to make them legal for hunting that had that cordite smell?

Banished: What a great photograph. Reminds me of visits to old gun shops in St. Boniface, Peace River, Ft. Smith, Ft. Vermilion, Battle River, The Pas, or a really long time ago to the trapper's cabins Dad would take me when he went to visit his army buddies who had said tohellwithcivilization after the 2nd Great Unpleasantries.

I usually don't hunt with anything nowadays that has an appetite for anything you can't find in any store in Canada that sells shells. Most of my hunting now is with one of my old Lee Speed rifles in .303 Flanged Nitro Express 2 1/4", or my Dad's .30 W.C.F. Considering that my last dozen whitetails have been taken with 1 shot apiece from 8 1/2 to 69 yards, I believe both cartridges still have the razor flat trajectory they were attributed with back when they were introduced in '88 & '95 respectively.

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Rabbits, when I want to go further than the back deck, are now being "taken to bag" as it were, with a handy little .300 Rook (& Rabbit) Rifle, by George Bate, of Birmingham, of Francotte miniature Martini flavour, while "fool hens" usually fall prey to either my James Kirk, or my John Blanch, both 12 bore 2 1/2".

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While I have a couple in .318 Nitro Express (Westley Richards) & .360 Rimless Nitro Express 2 1/4", I just haven't had the desire to take something afield, when it's time to fill the freezer, that doesn't handle as quick, or that I just have complete faith in, other than the ones mentioned, despite having acquitted themselves admirably at the range. After the work is done, then I can take one of those others out, but when I open the safe to get one to do some work, instead of play, one of those just sort of says to me, It's time to do some work, so let's get the job done.
 
Neo said:
They smell like the poplar leaves scattered throughout the October woods, and like the spruce bog you hike across to get there. They smell like the two ruffed grouse you carry by their feet in your left hand as you walk down the trail with your shotgun in your right. They smell like the crisp autumn wind, as it swirls beneath the late morning sun busily trying to burn off the morning's frost.

They smell like the sandwich and the crisp, juicy apple you stop to have for lunch before having to turn around for the afternoon's walk back to the truck. They smell like the cooling air as the sun starts to move over the trees and begin its leisurely descent. But most of all, they smell like the man who walked beside you as you did all this. The man who taught you and got you started on this endless journey called hunting. The man who carried the same single shot twelve gauge for as long as you can remember. The man who once accidentally dropped a slug into the chamber and still managed to hit a bird on the wing -- what a story that was for awhile, something that only the two of you shared. The man who, yes indeed, always had a handful of Imperial paper-cased shells in the pocket of his hunting jacket.

Yes, most of all, they smell like Dad.

God, I miss him.
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Neo, that is writing! That is the kind of writing I wish I could see a lot more of in the gun rags. You are not just talking about a particular gun .... you are writing about the whole experience.

Regarding hunting with old obsolete cartridges, here's a photo of different cartridges I've hunted with ... the 45-90, the 45-70 and the 45-60. These calibers are a connection with the past that enhances the experience.

Three-calibers.jpg


And here's another photo of old cartridges, some of them rare, some of them not, all calibers of which I've used either for hunting or, in the case of the 44 Russian, a lot of shooting enjoyment.

Cartridges.jpg
 
jamesharrison said:
Ah HUH. I finally found out which post attracts the poets, romantics & assorted grey-haired ne'er-do-wells, such as myself.

Neo: I think you've been to the Dark Continent a few too many times, that a bit of Ernie & Bob has brushed off on you!

Nonetheless, I, as apparently a number of others, had a tear in my eye, thinking about the times with Dad a long, long time ago. Thank you for that, Sir.
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Well, if anyone has a drink near at hand, let's lift it high for all of the fathers, grandfathers, brothers and uncles who set us on the path. It's gratifying reading through this thread to know I'm not the only one who sees it that way ;)

Cheers.
 
Neo said:
Well, if anyone has a drink near at hand, let's lift it high for all of the fathers, grandfathers, brothers and uncles who set us on the path. It's gratifying reading through this thread to know I'm not the only one who sees it that way ;)

Cheers.
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Aye, and to the ones who we never got to meet but with what they left behind we can enjoy those memories of old. Thank goodness Gramma passed on those stories.:)
I lift high my root-beer.:cheers:
 
Neo said:
Well, if anyone has a drink near at hand, let's lift it high for all of the fathers, grandfathers, brothers and uncles who set us on the path. It's gratifying reading through this thread to know I'm not the only one who sees it that way ;)

Cheers.
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Neo; Our toast is to you for your eloquent reminder about what makes this treasured journey so endearing.

Salute
 
Neo said:
Well, if anyone has a drink near at hand, let's lift it high for all of the fathers, grandfathers, brothers and uncles who set us on the path. It's gratifying reading through this thread to know I'm not the only one who sees it that way ;)

Cheers.
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Salute my friend, been almost 40 years since I lost my Dad and Grandfather 4 years apart both killed in underground coal mining accidents. However I have never missed a year hunting with the 16ga they bought me and buring off some paper shells for the memories and guidance they gave me. Cheers:)
 
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