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Showing content with the highest reputation on 11/25/2023 in all areas

  1. Civil War enthusiasts and laypeople alike know the 1861 Springfield was the workhorse of the Union army. That said, they could not manufacture enough to keep up with demand, so they awarded contracts to various gunmakers. Colt was one such contractor, and they made a few changes to Springfield's design. Two of these changes included the "S" hammer as opposed to Springfield's "C" shape, and a redesigned bolster without the cleanout screw. Springfield liked these changes and eventually adopted them as their model 1863. In the modern world, we would have called it an 1861A1 because it is not a major design change or completely new rifle, just a few tweaks. But that style of reckoning had not yet been adopted. This one was manufactured in 1864; however, its model is considered 1861 Colt Special -- a Springfield design made under contract by Colt. I've owned it for a while, but have not had the opportunity to take it to the range until yesterday. I bought a minie mold and casted up a bunch. I also rolled a bunch of paper cartridges, but they are so time-consuming to make that I'll just measure powder for each shot instead of bothering to roll them. Yes, I had it borescoped by a gunsmith before I decided to shoot it. These guns were overengineered anyway, but all was healthy inside. The rifling wasn't as strong as I had hoped for, however, and in the pictures you'll see the accuracy wasn't what I wanted. At 50 yards, the group opened up quite a bit; all but two of these shots were from sandbags (I had to take two standing just because they had fought that way). I had the notion to hunt deer with this thing just one time just to say I had hunted deer with an original Civil War antique. However, it is not accurate enough to wisely or humanely hunt an animal. So it will remain a collector's item that will take a trip to the range every now and then. The action works immaculately and everything is tight. The trigger is a standard military trigger, meaning I hate it I've become quite finicky about how light and crisp I prefer my triggers. You'll notice it tends to shoot high, which I imagine is because soldiers were trained to aim at their enemy's belt. The belt provided a nice point of reference for the sights, but apparently it was designed to shoot a little higher than that to get chest shots. It was 14 degrees outside. I dressed for the weather and still had the range all to myself
    5 points
  2. 'Spanish Stonehenge' emerges from drought-hit dam
    5 points
  3. No not this flop This Kind On this day in history, November 24, 1874, the first commercially successful barbed wire is patented
    5 points
  4. You are NOT wrong. When they fold up and dive on pray, they hit incredible speed. When they hit a Pigeon there is a cloud of Pigeon feathers and a loud "THWOCK." I believe they have been clocked at 200mph.
    5 points
  5. 5 points
  6. HOMECOMING 250 IS BRINGING THE NAVY AND MARINE CORPS TO THEIR BIRTHPLACE TO CELEBRATE THEIR 250TH!
    4 points
  7. For the last few years we’ve been going through about 60lbs of black sunflower bird feed a month but over the last couple of months their feeding has dropped off drastically. This morning I think I discovered the reason, a peregrine falcon. My wife spotted it first and then I was able to get this picture of it sitting on the feeder stand. Pretty cool.
    4 points
  8. When a couple married in our neighborhood, their grandmother gave them an old used skillet. Said she said it knew how to cook. I always liked old tools (and guns) for the same reason. Seem to work better than modern replacement.
    4 points
  9. An electrician finished some electrical work at an attorney's home and then handed him the the bill. Upon seeing the bill, the attorney screamed "$400 for one hour? That's ridiculous! I'm an attorney and I don't charge that much!" The electrician replies, "Yeah, when I used to be an attorney I didn't either."
    4 points
  10. "Hey Joey, this one's got the keys in it." Don't help a good roo go bad. Lock your car. Take your keys.
    4 points
  11. One of those is a team signed baseball from 1955 by The Cleveland Indians, I got it when I was a kid and it's pretty much all faded. The others are 1995 Indians, 2001 Indians and a Nolan Ryan 5.000th stirkeout 1989 and 300th win 1990
    4 points
  12. Dogs??? Nah.... We use kangaroos.
    4 points
  13. Sharpshins/Cooper's, tough to tell the difference, but they show up in our neighborhood a few times each year, and leave a pile of feathers in our backyard. Breathtakingly aerobatic! We watched one sneak up on four crows perched on the power line in our backyard. The hawk knocked one off the wire with its fist...Tag! You're it!... as the remaining crows scattered. No doubt in my mind that the hawk could have killed the crow if it wanted to, but it was just showing who was boss.
    4 points
  14. I think we should all chip in and get Widder a dozen flannel shirts in the worst possible color and pattern combinations. And maybe a couple of ties too!
    4 points
  15. I'm in my deer stand now hoping for a yote..
    4 points
  16. Here in the PRK, most of the feral hogs attend Berkeley and major in Women's Studies.
    4 points
  17. Plumbers and Electricians can make a good living, but Electricians seem to be a happier bunch. Every plumber I have ever known had this weird depression about them. They also must have been “nose blind”. They didn’t smell so good. A few years back I had an opportunity to talk with some young men that were graduating high school. 2 were going to college to study computers and computer science. They were picking on the other kid that was with them about his choice of vocation. Being me, I asked kid number 3 what his plan was. He said “I think I am going to go up to the IBEW Union Office and sign up to be an apprentice electrician.” The other two kids made some comments about how kid #3 could come wire the new patio sound system up by their pool someday. I told kid 3 he was making a very good move. Kid 1 and 2 wanted to know why? I said, “Well, first off, you can’t swing a dead cat and not hit some joker with some type of computer degree. Second, the market is saturated with computer geeks. Third, this young man (#3) will start out making money while learning his trade. As soon as he signs up he will more than likely start working after some training and as he progresses so will his paychecks. By the time you get your BS he will be an electrician making around 80 grand a year with overtime and by the time you two finally get a real job he’ll be pulling down 6 figures.” #1 & #2 just stared at me incredulously. #3 smiled. Then I said “The nice thing is you guys will still get to see each other at your place of work.” #1 said “Yeah? Why is that?” I said “Because he will be dropping by Starbucks every day to get his coffee on his way to work. You two can partner up on the same shift as baristas, so you’ll have that going for you.” That shut em up! Boy #3 gave me a fist bump as I walked away.
    4 points
  18. "When a hobo told Andy he should just let Opie "decide for himself" how he wanted to live… He had these words of Mayberry wisdom. "No, I'm afraid it don't work that way. You can't let a young’n decide for himself. He'll grab at the first flashy thing with shiny ribbons on it. Then, when he finds out there's a hook in it, it's too late. Wrong ideas come packaged with so much glitter that it's hard to convince them that other things might be better in the long run. All a parent can do is say 'Wait' and 'Trust me' and try to keep temptation away." Somehow... we have lost this basic truth."
    3 points
  19. We have a seven generation Idaho ranch We do a.lot of horse packing for elk I have cooked in cast iron since.childhood I also compete in Dutch oven contests. I enjoy Wagner and Griswold but mostly use Lodge. Lodge has outstanding service, multiples of parts. Lids and stuff I.use hot water, scrubbies and Crisco
    3 points
  20. 3 points
  21. AGAIN Sheriff Willamina Keller began the ancestry research. Her granddaughters continued her work with the same zeal as Willamina herself began it, and they searched in the same manner as she: it was their unfailing custom to do their research in the back offices of the Firelands Museum, which was a minor library as well as a research facility; they searched using every last tool available to them, thanks to the widespread use of computers and the universal availability of newspaper accounts, death records and other useful tools of Swimming Upriver in Time. Another custom they followed, was to do their research, while dressed for the part. Sheriff Willamina came to Firelands, originally, to fill an unexpired term; she was re-elected multiple times, and finally retired, shortly before her death. She came into the office knowing that – in spite of her credentials as a Marine, in spite of her experience as a nurse, in spite of her excellent education – she was a woman, in a man’s world. She didn’t try to change that. Instead of wearing the standard Colorado State Sheriff’s Association uniform, she wore a tailored business suit and heels. She was not tall by any stretch of the imagination – every last deputy she had was taller than she – but she had a Presence, perhaps augmented by the very first night she arrived, when on her way to Firelands from the airport, she instructed her deputy to respond to the barfight called in over the radio, she kicked the door open, she drove a charge of buckshot through the ceiling and shocked the barfight into a sudden standstill, then she waded through staring, bloodied combatants to the root cause of the knuckle-and-skull conflagration – two women in a screaming, hair-pulling catfight – she introduced one’s face to the wall and pulled a .45 automatic from under her tailored blue suit coat, and invited her, quietly, to drop the broken bottle, before I drop you. Sheriff Willamina, as she was universally known, did not try to be one of the guys. She never appeared anywhere officially, unless she wore her trademark suit dress and heels; she treated her people like the professionals she expected them to be, and she expected more of them – she expressed more confidence in them – than they had in themselves. It worked. She did not come in as a controlling martinet. She came in as an efficient administrator who knew how to get more out of someone than they thought they could do. An administrator who also picked up uncooperative criminals and threw them across the room, an administrator who pinned a loudmouthed troublemaker by the throat against a wall at a public meeting and invited him to so much as twitch so she could punch his guts clear up into his tonsils, an administrator who changed into boots and blue jeans and led a horseback posse in search of two little boys who’d wandered off right before a snowstorm hit, and when the winds stilled and the snow stopped, she stepped out of a sheltering cleft in the rocks, raised a Sheriff’s band talkie to her lips with one hand, and fired a flare gun with the other to guide a relief column to where she and the boys and a good saddlehorse holed up overnight, with brush and snow making a snug roof overhead, with lightweight silver blankets to keep them warm, rations from her saddlebags to feed the three of them, with a trickle of clean water running through their little shelter providing the basis for hot tea with honey (let that cool, it’s hot!) and rock walls close on either side to reflect their fire’s heat back onto them. Willamina’s granddaughters were their own souls: one was her twin in appearance and in temperament, the other less so, but the granddaughters happily searched and researched their ancestry with their focused, efficient, pale eyed Gammaw. In the years since Willamina’s passing, the granddaughters continued her research, at least until Marnie was shot off into the cold darkness of interstellar space, and Angela worked alone – but in memory of her dear Gammaw, Angela, too, wore the same style of suit dress as her pale eyed ancestress, and so it was that her Daddy came into the Museum just to say hello, and found his darlin’ little girl with her forehead on the heel of her hand and a frown on her face. Angela looked up, straightened. “Trouble?” Linn asked in his deep, reassuring Daddy-voice. Angela made a face like she’d just bit into a sour pickle. “Reality,” she finally said, “sucks.” Linn nodded, eased his long tall frame into a chair. “Yep,” he agreed. “Fill me in.” “A cousin. Anderson, the name. Third cousin, two removes –” She gave her pale eyed Daddy a distressed look: for all that she was dressed like a professional woman, an administrator, in that moment she looked almost like an unhappy little girl – “Daddy, I wanted all of our ancestors to be noble and upright and honorable and clean, cheerful, thrifty and reverent.” “You found on that’s not.” “I found a cop killer.” Linn raised an eyebrow. “Anderson the name, out of Whitley County." She paused, read, fingertips tracing lightly across handwritten notes. "It was” – she re-read her notes, turned a page back on the legal pad she still favored, lifted another page – “1932. Height of the Depression.” “What happened?” “It was a… Methodist tent revival,” she said. “He was there being rowdy and heckling and the constable grabbed him and threw him out. “The next night the constable deputized … some …” She frowned, frustrated, lifted a page, shook her head. “I can’t find how many he deputized, but when Anderson came back to heckle some more, the Constable grabbed one arm and a newly deputized grabbed the other. Someone -- I think another heckler -- grabbed the deputy, Anderson pulled a gun and killed the constable, someone – maybe two someones, there are conflicting reports – gut shot Anderson twice. He lived a few days.” Angela turned her distressed, bright-blue eyes back to her Daddy, drawing from the confidence she saw in his posture, the warmth she saw in his expression. “Daddy, the constable was a cousin, too!” Linn nodded, looked down, and Angela saw his bottom jaw slide out. “We can’t pick our family, Angela,” he said finally, “and sometimes family isn’t … quite … what we want.” Linn chose his words carefully. “I know, Daddy,” Angela said, and now she even sounded like the little girl she’d been, the delightful, blue-eyed child Linn remembered so fondly, the happy little gigglebox that lit up her Daddy’s soul like a hundred watt bulb, now grown, or nearly so, grown enough to look womanly, but with all the true beauty of the young – Linn blinked, broke the spell: fathers sometimes think that way, and at times, he definitely did. “Angela,” Linn said, his voice still reassuring, gentle, “have you found where the constable is buried?” “I think so, Daddy.” Linn held up a forestalling hand as Angela began to riffle quickly through her papers; his darlin’ daughter froze, looked very directly at her Daddy, fingers buried in the several sheets she was turning. “If you find it,” Linn said gently, “note it down separately for me. I’d like to make that a visitation one of these days.” Father and daughter both stood: Angela swung around the desk, quickly, her skirt swinging as she turned, skipped up to her Daddy: she seized this hard-muscled, lean-waisted icon of strength and security, she pressed the side of her face into his chest, she squeezed him tight, tight, the way a happy little girl will, and Linn’s arms were strong and reassuring and gentle around his little girl, this delightful child he used to swing high in the air so she could scatter happy giggles all over the floor. Angela looked up, chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Daddy?” “Hm?” “Daddy, if I’m growing up too fast …” She swallowed. “Daddy, if you want, I can wear pigtails and pinafores instead of …” Linn took his daughter under the arms, hoisted her up, rubbed his nose against hers, lightly, carefully, leaned his head forward until their foreheads just touched, until her eyes merged into one Arizona-blue orb. “I see you,” he whispered, and Angela giggled, for this was something he’d done with her since her earliest memories of the man. He lowered her a little, kissed her forehead, then carefully lowered her a very little more, until her heels just touched the polished tile floor. “Darlin’,” he almost whispered, “you dress however you choose. You’ve been a little girl in pigtails and pinafores, and I cherish those memories and we have the pictures, but you’re not a little girl anymore.” “I don’t want to distress you, Daddy.” “By growing up too fast?” Linn chuckled, sat, pulled Angela onto his lap: she wiggled a little, making sure her bony backside wouldn’t dig into the man’s thighs. “Darlin’, every little girl grows up too fast. It’s a fact of life, and Daddies all have to learn it. If Daddies had their way, they’d put their little girl on a high shelf and put a glass bell jar over ‘em like they were a precious doll or something.” Angela took her Daddy’s hand between both of his, looked deep into his pale, just-barely-light-blue eyes. “Daddies might want that, darlin’, but people in hell want ice water, and that doesn’t work out either.” Angela twisted, hugged her Daddy again, and Linn sat with this maturing young woman, his near-to-grown-up little girl, in his arms and on his lap, each one holding the other, and for a long, happy moment, he was happy to be just a Daddy, and Angela was happy to let maturing womanhood fall away so she could be his little girl again.
    3 points
  22. im no plumber but i pretend to be on many occasions each year at home - generally involves multiple trips to the hardware store and some choice words that children should not be exposed to , i just did such the other day , but i can say ive never had to work on the plumbing on this holiday , and im thankful for that ,
    3 points
  23. The Australian version of Cujo?
    3 points
  24. So why not go to a match and try out several options firsthand? Might find something at a great price while you’re there. As has been stated shoot in the gunfighter category if you’re going to shoot gunfighter. Welcome and enjoy!
    3 points
  25. 3 points
  26. And I'll send you a picture of TN Williams....... ..........Widder
    3 points
  27. I forgot to mention. Were one to observe the profile view of the Peregrine Falcon with specific bird things like eyes faded out, and look at a profile view of the B-2 Stealth Bomber, you may detect a certain resemblance.
    3 points
  28. They would go shopping together, and occasionally go out to lunch. The 3 of us would go square dancing together. My ex and I also danced the rounds between tips. When I needed a break the two of them would dance the tip with my ex as the left hand (man's) part. My ex and her husband would on a somewhat regular basis would treat us to dinner out.
    3 points
  29. It is! It was on the railing but a woodpecker knocked it in. They come in rather hot sometimes. I put feeders on our blinds. Keeps you busy when the deer are not there. I highly recommend safety glasses!
    3 points
  30. Howdy, There are programmers and there are programmers. Some write code and test it and put it into production and leave little time bombs for others to fix. My first class in programming there was standing room, all seats taken. Each test found more room. Final test there was an empty seat every alternate seat. Its one thing to say you are going to be a programmer and quite another to DO it. Best CR
    3 points
  31. When I corrected a neighbor boy recently I was chewed out by the mom. I learned that boys will be boys and I was spying on her kid. And I thought I was parenting mine, hmm. 'I don't make my kid do anything he doesn't want to do' 'I don't know how to control my 16 year old' ... car keys? Watching your kid and correcting them must not be WOKE. Todays too many parents are just lazy, they can't be that stupid can they? At the same time I'd propose parenting has gotten tougher.
    3 points
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