Showing posts with label rigby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rigby. Show all posts

Monday, 12 December 2016

Book Review: Tracking the Major


The blogger known as the Bambi Basher and myself have a sort of yule-ish end-of-year catch-up tradition. Last year we stalked the Highlands. This year our December catch up was to return to its regular venue. Holts host their bi-annual london auctions - it's the nearest thing to an American gun show central london has to offer. You can 'view' by which I mean 'pick up and handle', firearms from £500,000 to £50. Did I mention it’s catered? You can see the appeal. This year BB couldn't make it, and worried that the excess provisions laid on would go to waste I stepped up to the plate[s], loosened my belt a notch or two, and headed for Hammersmith. 


There were some very nice things on offer: at least three Mannlichers, one with the famous rotary magazine, all with the 'double set trigger' mechanism, that can both aid accuracy and render the consumption of roughage unnecessary. For me the star of the show was a rather scruffy and well used Rigby take-down [obvs chambered in .275]. 
Back in the day when a sport could pop down to the Army & Navy department store and equip himself for everything from a weekend in the country to a multi-year expedition to untraveled lands, Army & Navy’s gun department kept a stock of off the shelf Rigbys, this one delivered to the store in 1901.


As you can imagine it’s been about a bit. The stock has some scratches, while in two pieces it's been dropped onto something hard denting one mating plate where the two parts meet, it had been re-barreled in the 90's and had a chamber sleeve added sometime after. One of the more lived-in Rigbys.
Like a wand in your hands, the stock's semi-pistol grip worthy of the name, super petite, and svelte at 7 lbs 2oz. Now 115 years old the bolt's travel has worn as smooth as a smooth thing's smooth bits. Not, perhaps one for a collectors safe, but a real traveling sportsman's rifle that would earn you a hit-tip from any aficionado, and derision from anyone with an ounce of fiscal probity.

The Victorian-Edwardian transition, the second surge of industrial revolution, must have been a great time for the rifleman. When adventurous english gents would embark on expeditions to far flung corners of the world with a realistic expectation of adding to the sum of human knowledge. For the gentleman explorer it was considered, if not an act of devotion, certainly one's patriotic duty to record the whole escapade. As Queen Victoria passed and Prince Edward sat in the big chair. A new age of recording the moment had begun. The birth of more portable photography, cinematography, the telegraph, audio recording for broadcast, and an age of prolific taxidermy. Newsworthy moments were transmitted by Reuters and Pathe back to the public; samples and specimens were preserved and prepared for display in cabinets of curiosities and diorama, in sizes from desktop to needing to build an extension on to your house.

By the 1970s and 80s the baby had been chucked out with the bathwater. Explorers were still just about ok, fur coats and taxidermy were out, and big game hunters, unthinkable! The once heroic figure of the sunburned Englishman in a pith helmet wasn't a passionate naturalist and ethnographer, he'd become a figure of fun to be mocked and derided. The life stories of these intrepid eccentrics were only remembered at places like Bisley, the reading rooms of moth-eaten gentleman's clubs, and the Bambi Basher’s bookshelves.

Taking a break from leaving greasy paw-marks over the merchandise I happened to be at the right end of the room (funnily enough where the free champagne was being served) to hear someone from Holts announce that Andrew Joynes was launching his book 'Tracking the Major - sketches from the Powell-Cotton Museum'. Then he mentioned Quex Park the major's estate. Theres a street not too far from where I grew up called Quex Rd, which is an unusual sounding place name, my ears pricked up.

'... In my attempt to fathom the mind of the Major, I began to think of his archive, with its variety of objects and documents, as a kind of lair to which a rare animal had retreated...
In the room behind the baize door, I had embarked on an exercise in historical fieldcraft. I had begun to track the Major... “
Andrew Joynes

Curiosity peaked I learned Major Percy Powell-Cotton was a massive celebrity of his time. On over 26 expeditions between 1887 and 1939 he hunted, collected, wrote and was an early pioneer of wildlife film making. He brought back over 2400 specimens and a plethora of artefacts. His collection out-grew his house and he built extension upon extension to house enormous diorama of full size taxidermy.
It’s not so much that his life was like something out of a boys own adventure, it’s more like the boys own adventures were based on him. His zeal for adventure was matched by his abilities as a self-publicist, he was news and he knew it. By sending regular(ish) dispatches from his trips he became a fixture of the newsreels and in newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. His books best sellers, the public first saw the charismatic mega fauna of Africa in his films shown on the weekly newsreels. 

Such was the scale of his collecting that some of the skins he shipped across the world didn't get incorporated into his museum for more than 30 years. 
The most famous taxidermist of the day, Rowland Ward, wanted to mount Powell-Cotton's elephant, which has the second largest tusks ever recorded, and mount it life-size. This would mean raising the height of the roof at Quex Park. Powell-Cotton felt there had to be an end to the expenditure somewhere and declined. Rowland Ward was adamant, perhaps guessing correctly that the days of the really big elephants were at an end, and made his case that the mount could be life-size if he did the work for free, and Powell-Cotton paid for the raising of the roof. They shook hands and the elephant is still there today.

Andrew Joynes has done a great job of sifting through the major's meticulously notated stories behind many of the exhibits. A favourite anecdote: 

Whilst on honeymoon,  Powell-Cotton was being mauled by a lion he had failed to dispatch with the first shot. His death was postponed when a copy of the satirical magazine Punch resisted the lion's claw. Which gave a few vital seconds for his guides to save him. News of this near-miss reached London before he did, adding to his living legend status. 

The lion in question, as mounted by Rowland Ward & Co.

If that wasn't enough, he added a dash of panache by putting the lion, the safari suit and the copy of Punch on display in his museum. Which the public flocked to see.

It gets better.

A museum in his garden he’d been wise enough to commission, while on his travels, leaving his brother to deal with the builders. 

Genius!

Andrew Joynes tells loads more great tales in 'Tracking the Major - sketches from the Powell-Cotton Museum’ , it's well worth a read.

I’m hoping to make it over to the museum in the next few weeks
I’ll post a field report obvs. 
Your Pal
SBW



Friday, 27 April 2012

On the subject of WDM Bell: Small Bores Versus Big Bores



The food ran out. The boys had eaten all the elephant meat they had bought with them. My food was finished, but the cartridges were not, thank goodness. I remember ordering a cartridge belt from Rigby to hold fifty rounds. He asked me what on earth I wanted with so many on it. I said I like them and there was a time when it paid to have them.
WDM 'Karamojo' Bell 

Small Bores Versus Big Bores was written almost 30 years after his last African adventure Bell's piece for American Rifleman gives an insight into what he believed were the criteria when choosing a rifle for hunting dangerous game.

There is a bit of controversy about this article, not because of what Bell wrote, but because of what others have mis-read into it. Some say it was badly edited, some say Bell had access to preproduction rounds. I've seen this misunderstanding quoted several times, but as it's Col. Cooper the armchair heros are parrotting..

First a note from Col. Cooper
A lot of static was thrown our way when we mentioned that article by Karamojo Bell, which appeared in the American Rifleman many years ago pointing out that if he went back to Africa he, Bell, would take with him a 308. It turns out that the 308 had not appeared at the time Bell's article was published. About all I can assume here is that we have an editorial mishap. My best guess is that Bell stipulated 303, and that his copy was "corrected" by somebody in the composition room.


Here's what Bell actually wrote. Emphasis added by me

'The new short version, [of the 30-06] the .308, with a suitable bullet may yet prove to be the answer to the hunter 's prayer. Sufficient diameter, enough penetration with no bending, is a specification that would answer others' than the hunter ' s dream.'


Now that we've got that cleared up lets take a look at Bell's prescription:
  • Reliable ammunition: (both on ignition and on impact), available and affordable. 
Rigby's .275 rounds were only 10% of the price of the 'express' calibres used by the famous London double rifles.

  • Reliable ejection 
Spits the empty case out every time - when you need a second shot - you NEED a second shot

  • Short action'd rifle  [straight pull perhaps?]
Short bolt stroke -  when you need a second shot - you NEED a second shot PRONTO

  • Light weight 
There's a lot of walking involved.


Double rifles are around 10-12lbs unloaded. Bell's Rigby would have been roughly 7lbs and his 50 round ammunition belt works out at: 185gr case and primer + 200gr copper solid + 40gr powder = 425 X 50 = 21,250grains. Which is 1,376.9Kg AKA 3.03lbs
Big shout to The Bambi Basher who had a .275 Rigby case and scales to hand.


...the extraordinarily severe nature of the work may be judged from the fact that Mr. Bell informs me that his average yearly consumption of boot leather amounted to 24 pairs, and he estimates that the total mileage covered on foot, including going to and returning from hunting grounds, amounts to 73 miles for every elephant killed...

  • Take-Down Rifle 
Much appreciated when travelling by Camel, Donkey, Canoe, Biplane, Bicycle or on Foot


Which brand and model of rifle would Bell be carrying today?
Your answers in the comments section please!

I picked up my copy of the magazine on Ebay for $10 inc. shipping.
You can read his piece for American Rifleman HERE

More soon
Your pal
SBW

Picture credit goes to Will on this thread

Monday, 21 March 2011

Deer Hunting In The UK Pt5



Continued from Part 3 and Part 4

Meanwhile back where we started: High Seat - Day Two:

My reverie is broken by TBB's 'pssst' and I go through the High Seat Drill - open the bolt, push the top round (bullet) back down into the magazine, close the bolt over the now empty chamber, apply safety so the bolt is locked shut and now it's safe to climb down the ladder.

We cross the bridle path and are consumed by the darkness of the woods, for about five or six minutes we pick our way up the slight hill. Just as we're reaching the end of the block we're in, part of the herd has decided to go for breakfast and they suddenly start to run past us at only 30 yards. Their way is restricted by a fence which they must duck under, one doe stands still and looks at me. Time slows. The does in front have bottlenecked where they will cross the bridle path so now I'm face to face with an eminently shootable Doe. I shoulder the Rigby, swing the rifle's wing safety down into the ready position and start the flinching - my eyes close as my finger presses against the machined surface of the trigger, I wrench them open, the Doe is still looking at me, I'm 30 yards away and miraculously the point of aim is still on the magic circle behind her shoulder, she tips her weight onto her back legs and presses forward, I squeeze, my eyes stay open. A clean miss.

The Bambi Basher doesn't need to say anything [and being the gent he is, doesn't] the bullet must have passed over her back, at that range the scope's cross hairs aren't a representation of where the bullet will go - I'd have been better off looking down the side of the barrel.

Now in the aftermath, we know only where the deer that remain on our side of the bridle path aren't, we are at a fenced corner ourselves. I sigh. That's why its called hunting.  I hand TBB the Rigby and take a few steps in the direction of the departed Doe herd. I'm about to duck under the fence myself but just obscured from our view is my Doe, lying perfectly dead on the ground.
My shot had been six inches further back than my intended point of aim and six inches high.

I gralloch the deer, [I'm still not sure why we use the Gallic word for gutted] the round had clipped her spine on the way in and exited bellow the point of impact. Dead is still dead and the hunting gods must have been on my side, only one of the deer's stomachs had taken a passing clip leaving a hole less than an inch long, using her blood to rinse out the small amount of snot, bile and part digested grass, I'm delighted to see that apart from the back straps having had a bite out of them, the rest of the meat was good. Together we heaved her into a tree, the foxes would go for the ease of the gut pile [AKA the gralloch] and leave the carcass, with the first Doe cooling in the tree we set off in search of the next one. Which eludes us.


Coming soon
Deer: Nose-to-Tail eating

Your pal
SBW


Thursday, 2 September 2010

I Want One - A Not So Occasional Series Pt18


Oh well go on then, I may as well confess; once again I'm sitting on the sofa lusting after things I can't afford, but weirdly imagine would give me that elusive sense of completeness [until the next thing].

I’ve been lucky enough to have a go with one of these on a weekend away with The Bambi Basher and to be fair there really is something a little bit magical about them. We made a short video of the .275 in action you can see it here.

£1600 ($2,462) is a fair whack of cash (especially at the moment) but this rig, a box of solids [footsteps of Karamoja Bell an’ all that] and you’re good to go. Classic, elegant as you like, and remarkable in any company, could this be The One? Must be love.

JOHN RIGBY & CO.
A .275 BOLT-MAGAZINE SPORTING RIFLE, Rigby serial no. 2436,
25in. blued signed 'JOHN RIGBY & CO. 72, ST. JAMES'S ST. LONDON', block-mounted bead fore-sight, block-mounted rear-sight of one standing and two folding leaves each with platinum-inlaid centre-line and calibrated to 300 yards, fitted with a Burris 2x-8x telescopic sight, receiver marked 'WAFFENFABRIK MAUSER OBERNDORF A/N, set trigger, 14in. figured semi-pistolgrip stock including 3/4in. rubber recoil pad, chequered grip and fore-end, sling eyes
Estimate £1,200-1,600 Sale A1045 Lot 1125

Then again what would you buy for the money?
Until next time
Your pal

SBW
PS I've seen both Karamoja and Karamojo used, but as the place seems to be spelled Karamoja, I'm going with that.


Monday, 19 April 2010

Vintage Firearms - The Rigby .275


As I started telling you in the last post I met up with another blogger last weekend: Bambi Basher is a massive military history and firearms buff who I'll be taking my deer management cert. with. He's recently become the latest delighted owner of a rifle made by Rigby of (first Dublin and then) London. I think of myself as the kind of bushwacker who likes his tools to be tools, but made in the 20s or 30s this one is pre Carbon and Fiberglas, so it's stocked in Walnut, and I was surprised how taken with it I was. Svelte in the hand, and older than both of us put together it's obviously been cared for, but bears the marks, scratches, and dings of many adventures. It's chambered in .275 Rigby (7x57mm Mauser) which many of the internets gun nuts seem to regard as a wonder hunting round having a slight edge over the more common .270. Here's a video from last weekend - much more to tell you about my weekend with the him but that'll have to wait.
Cheers
SBW