I was around seventeen when my buddy Al suggested we go deer hunting out on his family’s property. He had gotten one of those lever-action 30-30s and was ready to jump off into the world of hunting the big buck. I was a fair small game hunter with my Stevens .410 shotgun and a decent marksman with dad’s Winchester Model 74 .22. Deer guns, however, were not in my father’s arsenal, squirrels being about his tops in game. The problem was solved rather quickly when my pastor offered a rifle that must have been his father, if not his grandfather’s. He, with the permission of my parents, was willing for me to practice and use his Winchester on our big hunt. Other than handling Al’s new rifle, this borrowed firearm was my first introduction to a genuine lever-action rifle. As I recall, the old Winchester was chambered for either 32-20 or 25-20, and although I know now either is a rather light round for deer, it seemed like plenty of cartridge at the time to take on most any of the local big game population. Us hunters now had a plan and artillery to go along with it.
Truth is, I knew equally as much about the rifle I had borrowed as I did deer hunting, and Al was maybe one Outdoor Life magazine ahead of me. Nevertheless, around Thanksgiving weekend the adventure came together. Mother Nature gave us a real deer hunter’s welcome with rain and cold. Borrowing a truck from Al’s parents’ lumber company, we were young and tough so continued as planned. An early start put us huddling around a water well about two miles south of town waiting in ambush of a deer…or any sort of wildlife stupid enough to be out in the messy weather. Wet and near froze to death, we had had enough (and in a relatively short period I might add), and chose to chalk it up to bad luck and head home.
Sorry, the story does not end quite so easy. Ya’see, being two teenagers with a borrowed vehicle, we decided to take the scenic route home. Shortly, we were farther from town and stuck in the mud. Warm from the truck heater, we figured no problem; we would just walk about a half-mile further down the backroad to Mr. Childers’s house and call for help. No big step for two young deer hunters, though perhaps it was a little further than we hoped for and possibly a little colder. The fine old gentleman informed us that he did not have a phone; however, he would be happy to carry us into town for help. Lucky us you might be thinking. Well, that’s true if you follow the rationale, if it wasn’t for bad luck there would be no luck at all. For it was that Mr. C’s truck had a slight problem-- bad brakes, or more accurately no brakes. Beggars can’t be choosers, so we loaded up feeling as though we were possibly about to graduate from young hunters to daredevils. Good luck did come to us, nevertheless, as we made a safe leap from the truck on a curve at the edge of town. With our first deer hunt under our belt, we were soon telling of our adventure by the fireside.
Now right about here seems to be where the choice of roads in shooting was before me. I seemed to be on the correct path first with my Daisy BB guns, then with that neat little Benjamin pellet gun, the Stevens bolt-action shotgun and now a orientation to lever guns. Recall the poem of Robert Frost, "The Road Not Taken". "Two roads diverged in a yellow woods, And sorry I could not travel both…And both that morning equally lay…Oh, I kept the first for another day!" Just like Al and I took the wrong route home, I made perhaps the wrong choice in choosing a fun rifle then or road, if you will. I have been enjoying shooting guns of many sorts for over thirty years, and except for the sighting-in of customers’ and friends’ Winchesters and Marlins, that holiday hunt with the borrowed Winchester has been the only time I have been entertained with a lever-action rifle. They have just not struck my fancy.
Alas, for just this last spring I neared an intersection that would give me another opportunity to choose the road not taken. I was contemplating getting involved in cowboy action shooting and knew I would have to shoot a lever gun and shoot it well to be a decent competitor. Being a die-hard Freedom Arms fan, I decided to shoot their Model 97s for revolvers. This put me in search of a used 357 loop-gun. I quickly found a Marlin 1894 at a very fair price. Not being overly eager, with box of 38s in hand, I proceeded to my range. In my 22 years of long-range handgun silhouette shooting, I had been accustomed to consider 50 yards a close target, yet in CAS this was going to be my max distance rifle target in most scenarios, so I began plinking at my short-range swinger. "This is really fun," I remember thinking. Days went by as I repeatedly spent a little more range time with the Marlin with increasing enjoyment.
I attended the Shootist Holiday only a few weeks later, and this year I was drawn to the lever-action rifles heavily scattered amongst so many members. Nevada Dave and John Purcell shared the delight in shooting their old Winchesters, and then custom lever-smith Keith DeHart "forced" me to fire one of his masterpieces. Lever gun guru Paco Kelly even tortured me to bang a way with one or two of his pride and joys. The fun came in the form of calibers from 38 special to 38-55, 444, and 45-70. I knew when I left the holiday I was on a new road to pleasure.
Since my return, I have been regularly involved in cowboy action shooting. At least six lever-actions have found their way into my gear, and I’m traveling in style on this newly discovered route. I do feel, like the poem, I kept a road for another day by ignoring the delight offered by levers; however, I’ve enjoyed the times with bolt guns, T/Cs, XLs, and now my affection for Freedom Arms single-action revolvers. I chose to look at the current interest as something new to enjoy in my middle age craze rather than an experience denied. Like one of the characters of my childhood make-believe adventures, I can suit up as my alias Billy Boots to be meaner than Cheyenne Bodie with my pair of FA’s and one of my Marlins ready to take on the toughest of CAS stages.
I wonder if Al still has that lever gun from the early sixties. He has been flying a helicopter for Dallas Police Department for near thirty years. I just bet he has seen some scrapes that he would have again felt comfortable with that 30-30 by his side. One thing for certain, I know I’m now on the right road with my latest paranoia of lever-action rifles, and this "stop and smell the roses route" should precede to miles of shooting satisfaction. Maybe my ol’buddy and I should get together on that road not taken and go hunt awhile at the old water well. Ironically, my home sits not far from that very spot and I want have to borrow a lever rifle. Funny how the road of life leads you. Que quardes el camino recto. BB
