In 1880 a fine Colt shotgun, serial number 3961, was shipped to J.C. Grubb and Company in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This shotgun was a model 1878 with exposed hammers, Damascus steel, and a walnut stock featuring a distinctive grain pattern. From there, the trail goes cold for over 100 years until a previous customer, Mr. Allen W. contacted me asking if I would be interested in repairing a crack in the stock of a shotgun he was considering buying.
After examining some pictures, I determined that the stock could likely be repaired and advised him to purchase it. It subsequently made its way into my hands. When I first opened the shipping box and removed the bubble wrap, I beheld a solid-looking double-barrel shotgun. I couldn’t resist shouldering the action and swinging it through a couple of imaginary birds. It felt great in my hands. Opening the action was butter-smooth, and when closing it, the gun locked up solidly without a hint of wiggle. Colt truly made a fine shotgun back in those days, comparable to the contenders of the era.
Upon disassembling the shotgun, I carefully examined the cracks and devised a plan to repair them with strength and minimal visual changes. I’m a fan of cyanoacrylate glues, such as the “Hot Stuff” line, for their ability to penetrate deep into cracks and their reliability as adhesives. In a couple of operations, I addressed each crack and reassembled the gun, confident that it would hold together well.
At this point, the owner and I discussed shooting it. He planned to use the shotgun in an Old West Impression/reenactment setting, perhaps as the type of gun an 1880s-era Southwestern circuit judge might have employed. I suggested it would be fun to try hunting with it, and he encouraged me to give it a go before returning the gun to him.
I researched black powder load data to ensure it would be safe for the Damascus barrels. For those unfamiliar with loading black powder, I settled on a 71-grain load to approximate a light 2¾ dram loading, topped with about ⅞ ounces of #6 shot. I loaded half a dozen shotshells for my next hunt.
On my first outing with the gun in pursuit of upland birds, my dog, Brittany, ranged out ahead of me and flushed a turkey about 60 yards away. Surprisingly, it turned and flew directly at me, undeterred by my blaze orange clothing. As it passed by at a right angle, I fired the left and then the right barrel, watching it fold up midair.
As the turkey fell, a small covey of pheasants erupted from the grass right in front of me. Despite the distraction, I remained focused on the turkey, concerned that my light load might not have delivered a fatal blow. It tumbled into the prairie grass, and I quickly reloaded in case it tried to run. Fortunately, it stayed down, thrashing a bit before succumbing. My dog and I reached it simultaneously, confirming it was done. My light load of #6 shot had done the job, striking the head and neck. (For those wondering, Iowa has a fall turkey season, and I was properly equipped with a tag.)
The old shotgun still had what it took to perform. I wonder how many pots it filled for hungry hunters or how many times it might have deterred or defended against criminal intent. An old double-barrel shotgun like this makes you wonder what stories it would tell if it could share its adventures.
