I had an interesting conversation lately with a friend about guns. Not the usual, what’s the biggest, baddest, tack-driving-est, fastest, flattest, fur-flying-est, etc.
We talked about why some of us love guns that just don’t make sense. It might be old guns that time has passed by, a gun whose time has come and gone. Sometimes it’s tradition, the gun was passed down through the family. Some are rare or obsolete guns that were a good idea that never caught on. Sometimes it’s just that some of us like to do it the hard way.
Let’s start with shotguns. My father, my fiend, and I are all fans of the–wait for it–16 gage. You knew it was coming, didn’t you? What is with you 16 gage wackos, anyway?
As with most of the guns we love even though they don’t make sense, there is on objective reason why. Many of you won’t remember hunting ducks before steel shot was required. In that time before super-light 12 gages and the advent of the 20 gage 3-inch magnum, the 16 gage was the one that did it all. Light enough to carry, hard hitting enough to shoot for everything including ducks.
For pheasants, my father still only carries his 16 gage Remington Model 11, which is the mechanical twin of Browning’s A5 Sweet 16. And he still uses it with jaw-dropping effectiveness. There I stand trying to shell-shock birds into submission with thunderous blasts from a 20 gage 3 inch mag firing pounds of copper plated shot and he picks them off with an old-school 16 and a light load of 6. There’s no objective reason to carry a 16 gage, but there’s also no reason why it still won’t work.
Now let’s move on to rifles. Here the confessional is all mine. Guys, I just love weird rifles that don’t make sense.
Let’s start with the .218 Bee. The 218 say-what? Yes, the .218 Bee. I love it. I don’t know why I want one, it doesn’t make sense that I want one, but I’ve always wanted one.
Back at the dawn of the varmint rifle age in the 1930s, Winchester created the .218 Bee by using (the now also deliciously obsolete) .32-20 as the parent case.
The Bee is somewhat misnamed. The .218 is derived from the then-European practice of using the bore diameter rather than the bullet diameter. The Bee actually stings with a .223 bullet.
So what happened to the .218 Bee? Essentially, the .223 Remington is what happened to the Bee. Along with the .222, the .220 Swift, the .22-250, need I go on?
The .32-40 parent case from the transitional period just did not provide the Bee with the boiler room to stoke the Bee up to the performance levels of next generation of faster and flatter varmint cartridges that soon rushed onto the market. Like the .22 Hornet, the .219 Zipper, and a whole bunch of other cartridges most have probably never heard of, the Bee went into a steep decline and has all but disappeared.
Which probably explains why the contrarian in me wants one. Unfortunately, after years of waiting, I had one in my hot little hands just last month.
And I had to had it back. I just couldn’t do it. It was too much money for an unshootable gun. In the present ammo and component supply crunch, it will not be possible to shoot the Bee anytime soon. I don’t have a supply of brass and brass supplies went from few to nonexistent. Dies and powder are also in short supply.
The dream lives for another day, though. When I find the brass and can get the powder, I’ll be back for the Bee.
I could, and probably will, go on, because this is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my desire for oddball guns.
What about you? What do you shoot that has the other guys squinting and then shaking their heads?
Grouse