My Aunt always said you needed your dreams, even if you could not afford them, you needed to dream.
I love romance and one finds romantic souls in the American west for some reason that only were sissy poets in the east. One such figure was Billy Dixon, and orphan, who grew to be one of the most enduring characters in American legend.
I have spoken of him in his philosophy that the best thing in life was a fire, sour dough bread, broiled steaks, a quart cup of coffee and an open sky.
Mr. Dixon shot a 50 90 or the Big 50 as it was called and Adobe Walls pulled the best scratch shot in history in shooting an Indian off his horse at an incredible distance.
George Custer hunted with a Remington Rolling Block in 50 75 and that pretty well settled me away from Sharpes for the Remington. It is not that either are better rifles, no more than a Winchester high or low wall is a better rifle, it is just for my dream, I want something that I want from nostalgia and it will be a Remington Rolling Block in 50 90.
The 50 stands for caliber and the 90 for the black powder charge. They shoot anything from a 500 to a 700 grain bullet of lead, which is 9 parts lead and 1 part tin to make it harder for penetration.
The old bullets are paper patched, one could use antelope hides, but I will suffice with paper patches in the grooves for accuracy as having played with deer hides, they are not fun in smell or other things, and in my dreams I do not want things stinky or slimy.
I want to use the citrus based new powders too by Shockey as they are easier to clean up and will not corrode metals like the old black powder caustics. That is important to me for some reason and who knows in dreams what makes such things important.
It must I believe have a German brass Volmer type telescopic lens as for no other reason than I want to shoot an animal from 400 yards and open sites are not effective in that mode. A double trigger too would be the choice as I will set the one and whisper on the other to have it go off in striking the firing pin.
Wood will be walnut and the gun will be blued, as I do not like the new synthetics and matte finishes, even if they are better.
I'm going to build a pair of shooting sticks too. They must be pretty I think in holding up my 16 pound rifle. Nothing fancy, but wood can be pretty in such things even if they are just holding a gun steady for a shot.
I want some kind of tunic too. It must have fringe, and I prefer leather as my shirt, Wrangler blue jeans and some kind of hunting boots with wool socks and a boonie hat to make me comfortable.
I was thinking about buffalo shooting as one does not hunt buffalo as they are rather stupid walking meat piles, but there is not allot of romance in shooting walking meat. If I did, I would want a young buffalo as I have eaten an old bull and it tasted like buffalo intestines or what is inside buffalo intestines and that is not something I'm interested in dining on.
The only animal I can think would be worthy of a dream like this is an elk. I know a bear would suffice, but I want to commune with my animal afterwards and I do not want to eat a grizzly, as while black bear are pork like, I do not want to shoot a black bear with a Big 50 as it just does not seem romantic.
So it must be an elk, but not the bull of the woods as I have eaten bulls of the woods and their meat is not gamey, but tastes of excrement, and having eaten good elk, I prefer a nice dry cow or a young bull, as each time I eat elk, I would be able to dream of that morning or afternoon with the sun or the snow, the heat or the cold, the mountain or park, and just smile in the company of my family in knowing how good I had it.
My boots could sit not put away in the corner with socks tucked in them as I walked by, and my rifle could be standing the corner covered with some dust reminding me of how long it had been, my shirt could be hung there just waiting for me like was going some place again, and I could play with the spent cartridge still smelling of burned powder as it sat on my night table before I piled into bed for the night with the Tiger Lily.
I could think of George Custer in firing his rifle last before he died in battle and be sad over Libby. I could think of Billy Dixon in losing his Big 50 in that Oklahoma river and wonder if it was still there.
I would though thank God in my heart for all He had given me there in our home, and all the better than dreams and memories I had in the present.
It would be a good thing, as I would plan some other hunt, but unless meat was needed would probably just pretend I was going to some high park or some low river bottom and actually shoot myself a buffalo born for that cause from God and wonder how that robe would feel on the bed and what the memories of it would be, as I drifted off to sleep.
It is good to have dreams.
It is good to have dreams even if you can not afford them.
It is good to have dreams.................
agtG
