Tim and I have spent the last two weeks playing in the woods, throwing rocks, soiling our clothes and getting dirt behind our ears and under our fingernails in the same way we did some fifteen years ago. Recently, we replaced our wrist rockets and homemade bows and arrows of old with a Colt 38 Frontier Single Action Sixshooter and Winchester Model 67a bolt action .22.
Self Portrait: Filson Mackinaw Cruiser, my Grandfather's Eagle Scout shirt from the 40's, Rolex Submariner on nylon band, and Colt 38 Frontier Single Action Sixshooter.
After some deliberation, multiple hoots and frequent spins of the revolver's cylinder, we headed out in search of a train to hold up, a bank to rob, or a posse of Pinkertons to play cat and mouse with. Despite our commitment to engaging in criminal acts, we eventually settled the steel sights of our trusty tools on some unsuspecting clay pigeons conveniently arranged in our backyard. Our half-hour gun fight left far more cartridges shot than targets hit and without a doubt, many New York financiers would have taken three to one odds on the clay pigeon in a duel. We swore, we shot, we complained about ear plugs, we kicked piles of dirt and we shot some more; I guess boys will always be boys.
Here are some more links,
The Huntington Brothers (Picasa).