Hunting Clay Pigeons in the Wilds of Maryland

Spent most of today shooting with Jeff, Hutch, and Jake. My shoulder hurts. We shot a round of Sporting Clays, which is a game similar to skeet but involves moving around to a bunch of stations and shooting at random targets. It is basically golf with guns. Some of the stations are just sort of cut into the middle of the woods.

Jeff shooting a rented Beretta Over-Under.

Me on my trustworthy Remington 870 pump.

Jeff won out of the group of four but foolishly bet lunch with Hutch on the results of a single station. It appears Jeff's skill degrades with pressure while Hutch rose to the occasion. Lunch was on Jeff.

I also shot the old Remington 1900. Apparently I got it back together correctly but it kicks something fierce and had nothing but a hard plastic buttplate to transfer the recoil into my already tender shoulder.

Hesler House

Saturday after the picnic we went to the Hesler's new house in Virginia. We, of course, had an excellent visit and I especially enjoyed meeting little Matthew for the first time. The following picture was taken at the end of an evening in which nothing stronger than lattes were consumed.

Church Picnic

The church picnic was today. I'd say more but I'm exhausted from chasing Harry around in the oppressive heat. I'm not sure why he can't be more like the Chinese kids at church that are all slothful and timid.

Harry wanted in on the action.

Eric made balloon animals for the kids. (He also knits.)

Don't know these kids but I caught the air rocket in mid ascent.

I realized it was time to go when I found Harry preparing to Sumo Wrestle a hot dog.

Chris's Visit

So I took a half day on Wednesday and met up with Chris. He just graduated from the MBA program at RPI and is unemployed as a result. Go second tier business schools!

Anyway, he came down in the morning and we hung out with Amy and Harry. Harry likes Uncle Chris.We also left Amy at home with little guy and went to see Hot Fuzz. I can't recommend this movie enough. Truly hilarious, topping even the impressive Shaun of the Dead.

Once back from the movies we tried to get pizza - awful, wretched Maryland pizza. Not sure why it is so hard to make edible pizza in this state and I don't want to put forth any hypotheses for fear of offending my neighbors.

After "dinner" Chris was in a sit-and-chat mood and after Amy went to bed he decided to show me an endless string of 80's cartoon theme songs. We commented on how Cobra is basically Al Qaeda with a bit more style. I fear the children raised in the 90's on Captain Planet and Power Rangers will not have what it takes to defend this nation in the years ahead. "Sure Sarge, I understand that terrorists murder folks and want to establish a repressive society that spans the globe, but don't our tanks pollute?"

Now compare that drivel with what I was raised with. YO JOE! Of course, sometime in the late 90's the CIA under Tenet managed to "flip"Cobra Commander. Now he works for us. Scroll down for the photo proof.

The other old gun

I had mentioned below in "The Old Gun" that I had gotten two old shotguns from Uncle Steve. I showed you the nice Remington 1900 that had held up surprising well over the last century. I did not show you the "other gun."

It is a "Vulcan Arms" double barrel of the same general appearance as the Remington. After some internet research I found that Vulcan Arms is the name of a regional distributor in Philadelphia for the Crescent Firearms Company. Apparently the gun is about the same age as the Remington 1900.

If it were in pristine condition, the old fella would be worth $200. Of course, it is actually in rather horrendous condition so it is worth nothing. I'm not even sure there is much sentimental value since it appears to have been shot infrequently. While the outside of the barrels are rusty, the bore doesn't show the same signs of use, in terms of pitting, that exists in the Remington.

I am debating whether to try to refinish the gun.

Arguments against doing so abound.

As mentioned above, the gun has no monetary and questionable sentimental value. I will see if I can find any tales of this gun when I go visit the extended family in June but as of right now, there are no good, "Priest shot him in the a**" stories to warm the heart.

The barrel is bent. This strikes me as a pain in the butt to deal with, potentially requiring the assistance of a gunsmith.

The action does not look as nice as the one on the Remington. There are actually coiled springs incorporated in the design. Rusty coiled springs at that. If they turn out to be important to the boomstick going bang, I may have a difficult time bringing the gun back into service.

There's probably a good reason the stock is no longer on this gun. There is an inherent structural problem with side by side doubles. Shooting the gun imparts off center forces into the stock that tend to try to split the stock down the middle. A bolt was inserted in the Remington to help prevent that from happening but I worry that the stock design for the Vulcan Arms gun is even less robust. It would stink to refinish and actually make a new stock only to have it shatter in my hands. And that would probably hurt. Could it be that the bankruptcy of Crescent Firearms Co. is one of the reasons life expectancy has gone up since the 1900's? Along with antibiotics of course.

The arguments in the affirmative are shorter but still pack a punch.

The gun is worthless. What better way to get better at refinishing than to work on a gun with no value? There is no letdown if the project is unsuccessful.

The inside of the barrels are in good shape. Once that pesky dent is removed, the gun is probably safer to shoot than the Remington, at least as far as the barrel exploding is concerned.

I will need to get better with woodworking to fashion a replacement stock for this gun. This is good opportunity to learn some woodworking skills.

Umm...

I think I'll leave it in the closet for now.

Did I mention Jeff has Great Great Grandfather's gun? That would James Hart, from the first generation of American born Harts.

Dinner with Molly

As is readily apparent from Harry's long hair, this post is out of order. We received an invitation to have dinner with Molly Holt during her short visit to the States. Molly is the eldest daughter of Harry and Bertha Holt, the founders of Holt Adoption Agency. Apparently they were inspired by God but soon became heartless scientists, at least if this is to be believed. So so smug. As you can see below, some Christianist vandal chiseler got to their graves.


Amy remembers meeting Grandma (Bertha) Holt when she was little but we had both met Molly Holt before. On our trip to pick up our Harry we visited the orphanage at Ilsan, Korea, right on the border with the Commie North. (There will be a lot more kids to take care of when that place finally breaks down for good.) But for now, Molly works as a nurse for the many disabled children and adults that generally need too much care to be adopted. After a tour of the place, we went across the street and got some food with Molly and another volunteer named Phil who had been adopted by Americans. The facility was beautiful and full of dedicated workers.

Molly was in the States to be awarded the Pearl S. Buck Award. She was accompanied by the president of Holt International, one Mr. Min. A few families that had adopted or were waiting to adopt from Korea were invited to have dinner at one of the family homes. Harry was the youngest kid there and had an absolute blast. Mr. Min seemed especially taken with him, stuffing him full of cookies and whatnot.

Harry was in such a good mood he let Mr. Min hold for another round of pictures. He just clapped happily.















It was a great evening with some very good and caring people.

Gotcha Day!

Today is a special day for the Hart's. It was a year ago today that Amy and I officially took over taking care of Harry. His foster mom, Mrs. Lee, gave us little Jeehoon in a very tearful affair at the adoption agency. Well, all of the adults were tearful anyway. Jeehoon was not particularly concerned one way or the other who was going to feed and change him.

So it's been a good long year and we decided to celebrate. We took Harry to Brookside Gardens and walked around a bit outside before going into the conservatory. It was full of butterflies. Lots and lots of butterflies, many of whom were clearly not native to Maryland.

When we got back Harry took his nap and then got to open his Gotcha Day present. I think we successfully impressed him with the gift. More pictures here.

An Old Gun

The title of this post is not in any way metaphorical. A few months back Harry and I made the trip to New Jersey to visit family and celebrate the March birthdays. It was a pleasant enough time and at the birthday party Uncle Steve gave me a heads up. "I have three shotguns in my trunk." I thought maybe he needed a driver for a heist but he was actually just asking if I might want one or more of them. His little collection included a pump, and two side by side double barrels.

As it is I already have a nice reliable Remington 870 so I was not really looking for another practical firearm. However, the doubles intrigued me. One was a rather rusty "Vulcan Arms" knockoff with a shattered stock and a bent barrel. I took it but I'm not sure if I will ever get around to doing anything with it. The other gun was a Remington 1900 that originally belonged to Great Grandfather Michael Hart. Well actually, it originally belonged a priest-friend who, according to family lore, inadvertently shot my great granddad in the buttocks in a strange synthesis of Forrest Gump and Harry Whittington. Mortified, the priest gave his firearm to his victim and the gun has been in the family ever since

It showed signs of extensive use but I thought I could bring it back to a good condition. I think I was right but I guess I will leave that to others to decide. I wish I had taken some more before shots but here you can see the frame before and the whole gun after. More pictures of the refinished gun here.




The big problem I have now is that I really want to shoot it. However the pitting in the barrels concerns me and I have no desire to deal with an exploding firearm. But since I live in America, there is a solution to my problems. In this case it is a set of tubes that go in the barrels and take all of the pressure loads of the expanding gases. Behold, Briley Insert Tubes. Of course my new problem is coming up with my rationalization for why I should spend that kind of money on a hundred year old gun.