If price is no object, you can’t do much better than these large-caliber dream guns for dangerous game hunting.
I was raised in a household where money was tight; we never did without, nor were we unhappy, but there was little money for frivolity. My mother had, and still has, the ability to stroll into a nearly new shop and come out with head held high, looking like one of the classiest ladies I’ve ever seen. As it translated into the hunting facet of our lives, firearms were meat-getters; my father – Ol’ Grumpy Pants – had a meager assortment of guns, each with their designated purpose, and he views a gun in the same manner today. “They’re bullet launchers,” he quips, in that stern voice that commands attention in any room, “you take any one of those ‘fancy-wood’ rifles and I’ll put it up against my Mossberg 100A .308 Winchester. I’ll kill anything they will.” He’s not wrong, and I still wouldn’t want to be within 500 yards of the old man with that rifle in hand.
However, I’d secretly peruse whatever hunting magazines we had around, wide eyed and soaking it all in like a dry sponge. I remember the advertisement, where an investor would part with a sum of money and receive a Weatherby Mark V, all shiny with the white-line spacers, and I’d stare in wonder at the possibilities of holding such a firearm in my hands one day. I was a sucker for the Remington catalog, spending my time investigating the different model numbers and available calibers, slowly piecing the puzzle together regarding the various available calibers and their applications. That curiosity, coupled with a half-million questions hurled at GP, was the germination of a lifelong love of firearms and cartridges – and adulthood focused on hunting abroad.
As a younger man, I’d save for years sometimes to buy a rifle, and they became very dear to me, though GP insisted I was foolish for having “all those damned different calibers, when all you need is a good .308.” Sorry Pop, I’m hooked and no hay remedio.