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May 9th Types Of Gun Owners

This article was originally published in the May/June 2018 National Firearms Journal which is published by the NFA (https://nfa.ca/)

I was recently at my friend Brad’s house for what turned out to be an unsuccessful coyote hunt. While there I realized he and I both had 243 Winchesters that were very different firearms, almost comically so. Mine is an old Ruger M77 international that I had purchased used many years ago and have babied ever since. Brad’s was a spray-painted Savage model 11 that I doubt has ever seen the business end of a bore mop. It got me thinking – to him that gun is a tool, a dedicated truck or quad gun. It’s not meant to be pretty, it’s meant to perform. To me, my gun is a work of art or a piece of history and something that needs to be taken care of. I hand load for it, clean it after every use, and show it off proudly. I even went out of my way to find a high gloss scope to put on it to match the bluing. I have a real soft spot for its full-length mannlicher stock… even if it likely is the cause of my 2 MOA groups.

This topic of tools versus collectibles got me thinking about other people I know. My brother, for example, is more minimalist, you see it in his home with his sparse and well-placed furniture. My house has the cozy and full feel of a used book store, or a hoarders garage, depending on your taste. Our interior design styles are also reflected in our gun collections. My brother owns about a half a dozen guns, all with very different and specific purposes. I, on the other hand, own nearly thirty firearms. I love to find an obscure caliber and research all about it.  I was tickled pink when my Great Uncle gave me my Great Grandfathers Savage 99 in 250-3000 (now referred to as 250 Savage), in large part because that cartridge is so fascinating to me. It came out in 1915 in the model 99 and was able to deliver an 87-grain bullet at 3000 fps, hence the 250-3000 but it was found that a 100-grain bullet was more effective for deer. I hope to use it on a deer this coming fall, for old time sake. I intend to use a modern well-constructed 87-grain bullet. Needless to say, rarities and oddities find an easy home in my safe. One of my first guns was a Savage 29B rimfire 22 LR, I found it in my father’s garage in pieces with a few bits missing. I managed to round up what was needed and turn it into a wonderful little rifle. It’s iron sights and oiled wood stock are a stark contrast of my brothers Ruger 10/22 in a Tapco stock with all kinds of bells and whistles bolted on. Both great guns, but I wouldn’t trade him.

Many of my firearms, to me, seem to represent a strange optimism. Perhaps I read too much Capstick, but years ago I got it in my head I needed a 375 Holland and Holland for my “someday” trip to Africa. I ended up getting my hands on a CZ 550 magnum with a beautiful wood stock. It was one of the only guns I could find that had a set of sights on it, a requirement for my romanticized version of a safari rifle. I’m still saving for that trip to chase a big duggaboy through the brush, but truth be told, I think my gun is worth more than I’ve got in that piggy bank.

I know I am not alone in my craziness. I once had a friend tell me, he hates using a new deer rifle for hunting. He likes to have an old one, preferably one that HE has shot a deer with before. Its got that good deer hunting mojo to it, which I totally understand. Its a strange kind of worry when you take a new deer gun into the field. What if it doesn’t know what it’s doing? I also once worked with an old man that said: “I don’t collect guns, I collect works of art, Roy Weatherby is my favorite artist.” I dare you to take a look at a Lazermark and tell me he’s wrong.

So what happens to people like us? To people who have a penchant for all things obsolete, forgotten, broken, or bruised? To be honest it will be our spouses and our wallets that suffer. I know I have never turned down a cheap gun in need of restoring. My collection has now justified its own room in our home. Maybe we can’t let these guns go because they remind us of ourselves, old relics the world has deemed obsolete and moved on from. Or maybe we are just hopeless romantic contrarians who read too many damn books.

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