I was fishing in the spring of 2006 with a good friend of mine. We were having a good day and just talking when he asked me about my 14 year old son. At some point during the conversation I must have mentioned that my son really wanted a lever action rifle. Well, the next time we went fishing he told me that he had an "old lever action rifle" that he hasn't used in years. He wasn't even sure if ammo was available for it any more. He told me that it was his grandfather's rifle, then his father's rifle, and now he had it. For the last 30 years it has hung over his fireplace. His son doesn't hunt and wasn't interested in firearms, so if we wanted it, he said we could have it.
I thanked him for the offer, and I suggested that if it was that old maybe he should check it out first and see what it was worth. At that point I didn't even know what it was, but I didn't want to take a valuable family heirloom from a good friend who might regret giving it away later. His reply was "I would rather give it to you than sell it to a collector who's just going to try to sell it again for a profit. If you guys want it, it's yours, just let me know."
I was still unsure about taking it, so I asked a couple of friends. They convinced me that he knew what he had, and he knew what it was worth, and he wanted it to go to someone who would really appreciate it. So I agreed to take it.
My friend explained what he knew of the history of the rifle to me as he pulled it out of the case. He said, "I'd be happy if you guys shoot it and enjoy it". When I saw it I almost fell over. It was an original Winchester 1873 Saddle Ring Carbine chambered in .44-40 and built in 1883.
Needless to say, my son was more than thrilled with the rifle. He hung on my every word as I explained to him how that rifle came into my friend's family and how my friend had chose him to receive it. My son has always admired this friend of mine, even before he received the rifle, so that made this old rifle even more special to him. While my son was admiring his "new" rifle, he announced to me "I'm going to kill my first deer with this rifle".
Before we shot it, I had the rifle checked out by a gunsmith to make sure we wouldn't damage it (our ourselves) by shooting it. Then I picked up some cowboy action loads and headed for the range. We had a ball shooting it that day. When we got home my son mailed a thank you card, some pictures, and a few targets to my friend.
I got some advice on a load we could use for deer hunting from the guys at the old levergun site. I decided on the factory Remington load, and then we headed to the woods at another friend's place that fall. A nice doe came in to about 30 yards one evening. My son raised the old Winchester 1873, squeezed off a shot, and the deer dropped in her tracks without even taking a step. We couldn't believe it. A rifle that was 123 years old at the time and still getting the job done. I'm not sure who was more excited that evening...my son, me, or the landowner who let us hunt on his property.
I emailed the story and a picture to my friend who gave my son the rifle. His reply was "you can't imagine how happy the story and picture made me feel this morning".
When I posted this picture last time, a few very observant levergunners noticed the cocked hammer in the picture. We unloaded the rifle before we set up for the picture, but in the excitement of the moment we forgot to let the hammer back down on the empty chamber.
Moonlitin
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