Box-Killing.

 I had bought a finished-out cargo container with windows and door and an air conditioner and insulation, and had it placed in my back yard on a pad that I placed there. I even had electricians pull a permit and run proper electricity out there. It was to be my "man-cave," but really was just a place for me to do some reloading. Dad had said that I could take over his handloading operation. Among gun people, there is often a "gun room." I cleared my father's out, completely, of all reloading stuff. It took me most of a week, and I put it all into cargo container/shed/"mancave." I did some organization, but not enough, really. 

Then my father died in August. 

I had a friend tell me that he wanted to go hog hunting. He didn't have a suitable rifle. I did. I got some .35 Whelen loads ready for him. In the meantime, this meant organizing a lifetime of relatively disorganized reloading detritus, all in loosely-packed boxes. 

I got to where my sport was "box-killing," which I had originally coined when I had helped move my father back in the 1980s and 1990s. Dad would put basically trash, pocket change, loose brass, and maybe a $1000 tool into a loosely-packed box, and mark  it "Misc. Crap." In this case, I had mostly boxes full of old metal coffee cans full of brass, marked "Brass." If I was lucky, it might be marked "sorted brass." (I think that I had ONE of these.) Usually the best that I could hope for was "misc. handgun brass." One box was marked, "Loose, dirty, unsorted brass," onto which I had at some point appended with a marker: "the worst sort of all!"

"Brass" is simply the casing of a metallic cartridge. In reloading, I polish it, size and decap it, prime it, charge it, and seat a bullet to the case, resulting in a complete metallic cartridge. 

To organize the over-full room, I have been consolidating the boxes of components, and throwing out the unnecessary boxes and the trash. I usually transfer the brass to clear giant ziplock bags. The empty boxes get broken down and taken to recycling. I have killed dozens of boxes from my man cave over the past year. Over the past month, I've probably killed a dozen or so. 

I never got a full set of cartridges loaded for my co-worker in time. I found a dozen rounds, and he took my rifle and killed a nice hog with it at 77 yards. 

Once I get the scale up and running, I'll have another 80 rounds of .35 Whelen loaded by the end of the week, and hopefully another dozen boxes reduced. 

Unexpected sidetrip.

After we got the venison boned out and under dry ice, Vine took me to his favorite range in Grand Island, Nebraska. It was a bit of a drive, but the trip proved to be worth it.

First he took me by the Hornady plant. This was nothing short of a treat.

After we signed their guest book, a nice gentleman named Paul came out, and took us on a tour of the plant. We got to see how the lead came in in huge ingots, was cast into 180 lb cylinders of pure lead, 3% lead, and 5% lead, and then moved to the extruding machine. This extruding machine was amazing: it pressed the cylinders up into a forcing cone, pushing out lead wire of the proper diameter, which was then rolled onto large spools. I was most impressed to find out that this was done with cold lead! The force of the hydraulic press seemed incredible. We got to watch as tapes of brass (mostly copper) film were pulled off of spools that looked remarkably like movie reels, to have coins stamped out of them, and other machines took the coins and stamped them into brass cups. We saw other machines punch out those cups into longer cups, then shove the proper diameter of lead wire into them before sizing the bullet down to the wire, putting in the cannelure, sizing down the jacket to the proper ogive, inserting synthetic ballistic tips, crimping it, and kicking it out. Paul handed us each a .338 bullet and a 150g .308 bullet, literally hot off the press.

Then we got to go down to The Tunnel. I had seen pictures of this so many times, not the least of which in the front of my Hornady Rifle Handloading books. We saw testing done at 100 yards with test barrels, and looked at the target at 200 yards. The techs down there would load up some rounds, and test some of the bullets of each loading every 100,000 rounds, to test the accuracy. Doesn't sound like very often, until you realize that they're punching out 2 million bullets a day.

They have a very, VERY nice vault full of specimens of guns to test fire out of, too.

In the tunnel, I looked at the test rifles, and noticed that one of the test barrel had a piezo-electric pressure sensor wire leading out of the lab to the computer outside. But on the shelf above it, standing by as backup, was the Old Way: a copper crushing setup. This was the method used for over a hundred years to check pressure before pressure sensors were created; they literally allow the pressure to crush a cylinder of copper, and measure the length of the post-fired cylinder against the length of it pre-fired.

After the tour, we went back up to the front lobby, and talked with our guide. It seems that the Hornady family wants shooters among its staff. They guys running the presses, the gals packing the boxes, and the ladies at the front reception area all are shooters. Betty, the friendly mature lady who rang me up for some factory reject bullets* that I bought on my way out, is apparently quite the competitor in the shooting sports.

As we were about to leave, VP Jason Hornady saw us, and asked if we preferred red or green. I said red, and Vine said green. He presented us with some very nice hats with the Hornady logo on them, in those respective colors.

These people know a little something about building customer loyalty. Leaving the plant with my swag in hand, I kind of wished that I had shot my deer with the Hornady 250g .35 Whelen loads that I had for my Springfield, rather than the Noslers with my .243.

On to the range.
___________
*About those "Factory Rejects." I gather that they are basically just cosmetically-deficient, but they sold them. Paul assured me that I would like them. I got 100 of their all-copper GMX .308 150g bullets, and 200 of their 220g RNSP .308. The price reduction was so awesome, I can't really say it here. But now I have to figure out what in the hell I'm going to load all those 220g thirty bullets into. Suggestions? We have the normal thirties.

Hunting prep.

While at Blogorado, new friend Joe mentioned hunting in Nebraska. As a guy who likes to see the world but has seen but little of it, I speculated that it was probably mostly beanfield hunting out there. He smiled and explained that in fact, there's some serious broken ground hunting out where he hunts, and while the deer are in fact corn fed (the farmers desperately want their numbers reduced) and heavy, they spend a lot of time in drainage woodlots, and the best way to hunt them is to walk them up.

Long story short, I begged an invitation, and have gratefully accepted that which I sought when it was proffered.

According to Joe, a 100 yard shot would be long, and somewhat unusual. So it was that this week, days before leaving to go to Nebraska to hunt, I found myself needing to check the zero on my stalking rifle-- a Springfield 1903 re barrelled to .35 Whelen. It's been awhile since I loaded for it, and frankly, I didn't recall where the zero was with the loads that I had on hand. And I was VERY short of hunting ammo.

This morning, I checked some handloads today (250g Hornady softpoint spitzer over about 53g of Reloader 15, if memory serves), and found that it was centered a couple of inches high, and maybe just right of, dead center, from 100 yards. I didn't cover myself with glory with my shooting today, and that was a shame, because I didn't have much ammo to practice, and still go hunting. I shot a group of factory 250g Remington, and was irritated to see that I shot it better. I'll carry the Remington loads, probably.

Every hunt needs a backup rifle, so I checked my 1953 vintage M7o .243 with our handloads. The first two shots put my 100g Nosler SP Spitzer into a 1/2 at 3" high.
Screw it. I wasn't going to waste more ammo. Hold dead-on out to about 300, which probably wouldn't be a problem (this is still blowing my stereotype of Nebraska.).

I checked the old cut-down Super Blackhawk and found that, as comfortable as Dad's 240g SWC Special loads are, I was frankly shooting the factory Remington 240g JSPs into a tighter group. Call it 3" at 25yds. With full Magnums, that tiny trigger guard, and that short (4 1/2") barrel, I'll take that. The group was about 2" right of where I want it, and about 4" high at 25. Something to remember. The sights will NOT come down any further, and I didn't have a screwdriver anyway.

Of humorous note-- in changing from my work clothes to run out with Dad to go sight in this morning, I somehow, um, sort of... forgot to put a gun on. Well, except for the Super Blackhawk that I had in the Thad Rybka holster on my belt. I got into Dad's car, realized that I had no carry gun on me, and shrugged and loaded it with 5 Magnum rounds. (It's an old model Flat Top). Let's all say it together, class: Load One, Skip One, Load Four, Cock and lower the hammer. I may have been a little slow on the draw, but I was not poorly armed. I had to run into the PD to pick up something that I had forgotten there, and I know my chief was mildly curious, but he just smiled and didn't ask. I let the mystery be.

Friday morning, I'll be in Omaha.

Dallas Gun Show

A buddy on leave from his job as an armourer for the Army came though town and wanted to go to the gun show on Saturday. I explained that I had to work that evening, and had to be back in town. He said that would be fine-- he just wanted to pick up some AR receivers.

We drove and drove to get to Dallas Market Hall, and were astonished by what we found: a line about 200 yards long to get in!

My friend said, "Maybe they're wanding everyone who's entering." Dad and I kind of looked at him askance, seeing as how almost everyone walking in had a pistol, bayonet, rifle, pistol, lock blade, hatchet, spear, or whatnot.

We found a parking space, and stood in line for about half an hour. Actually, the line was moving pretty quickly-- it was just that the press to get in was enormous. They were taking our money and zip-tying guns as fast as they could, to get us in. The crowd inside made the ginormous Market Center Hall feel cramped and difficult to walk into.

In all my lifetime of going to gun shows, I've never seen it like this. EVER. This is a direct response to Bary O' being elected in November.

My buddy went off in search of AR recievers. He'd bought his last ones a few months ago for $120. He came back with ONE Rock River receiver and parts for it that he found for $225, and counted himself lucky to get the last one on the table.

I priced some Webleys, but found that it was just too busy to browse. I vaccilated on buying some Crimson Trace stocks for my J Frame and my KelTec BUGs, but let that go, too.

From the good folks at Blue Star, I bought 200 unfired .38 S&W cases, and 200 hard-cast 158g LSWC .357 bullets, for my project of getting my friend Bill to come shoot plate matches with his Webley.

I bought a dental tool, some hemostats, and some tweezers for gun-cleaning.

And then we rounded up and headed out. Felt kind of lame, actually. My bag couldn't have weighed 10 pounds heavier than when I entered. Heck, I've seen times that I regretted not bringing a frame pack and a wagon in with me.

When did I lose track?

The new spring pistol match season begins this week.

Oops. I'm about out of ammo.

Time to reload some .357 Sig.

Oops. I'm out of brass.

Time to check around. Nope. I got nuthin'.

I called the good-good people at Dillon Precision, dialing their excellent 800 number from memory, even though I haven't called those folks in 10 years. I had memorized their customer service number the first time I ever saw it, about 20 years ago: 800-223-4570.

I identified myself and asked about .357 Sig brass. The tech named Mike (not the Mike at Dillon; the other guy) apologized and explained that they had, at present, NONE in stock. (At this point he asked if I still lived at an address that I haven't lived at for 9 years. Nope. Ah. That's why I haven't been receiving the Blue Press.)

He referred me to another distributor, Powder Valley. I called them, and they reported that 100 pieces of unprimed brass would cost $23.46. That's twenty three and a half cents a case. Plus shipping. Dayum. Was there a reduction in price for a larger order? Well, it's $112.59 for 500. That's 22 and a half cents apiece. For 1000 pieces, it would be $220.68. That's still over 22 cents apiece. And at that price, they only had 20 bags of 100 left.

What the hell is going on?

Even with money coming in, the product isn't available. The good folks at Dillon frickin' Precision can't even come up with a 100 pieces of this very common brass, at any price. 13 years ago, I bought 1000 pieces of primed new Remington .45 acp brass --shipped-- for $125.

Yeah, I learned a lot about the economics of ammo pricing a year ago from Dave here, (thanks, Tam), but this still boggles my mind. There is demand. Why isn't there supply?

Copper and tin and zinc and nickel are expensive, but not nonexistent.

Somebody is missing a bet.

Dog problems

The other night I wrote the following:

"It's about 60 pounds of solid, mangy dog.

It runs from officers on-duty when they try to snare it.

It's a stray.

It's reportedly been chasing children.

It's growled at many adults, and made some charges at them.

Tonight it gave me a good little false charge as I walked through town while off-duty. Enough so that I drew on it and wondered if I could get all 6 .380 rounds into it if it came to that.

Enough is enough!

I got my .22 to put it down; I have kids that live here, too.

It ran off. I followed. When I got a good sight and a good backstop on it, I realized that we were in a heavily populated area. No good. Even a .22 can be an alert, with the supersonic crack. Also, .22's have a spotty history against medium big dogs.

I'm going to load some nice sedate 148g lead hollow-based wadcutters into some .35 Whelen cases over just enough medium-burning powder to push them up to about 950 fps. Out of my Springfield's 22 inch barrel, it should go "pop," but hit with more accuracy and power than a +P .38 Special.

I don't want to have to fire a second shot. I don't want to risk the dog suffering. And I don't want to put the neighborhood in an uproar.

I just want it gone."

I didn't post that. Frankly, I just didn't want to hear the backlash from people who would whine that it's "cruel" to put the dog down. So I just left it in draft.

Well, I didn't load up some "cat sneeze" loads, and I didn't go put the dog down. A day later, it almost bit an older officer in the back of the leg, and he almost had to shoot it, though.

Today, after dropping off one of my girls at school, I saw it running near the school. I called the on-duty officer and told him about it. 10 minutes after getting home, I heard a "BOOM" from the direction of my dog sighting. Might have been a 12 gauge, but I honestly defy anyone to tell the difference between a 12 ga. discharge and a car backfire, while they're sitting in their living room.

Maybe it's gone. I'll find out this evening.

Just need to find the right load.

Reloading

Dad and I are going hunting next week.

Dad's bringing his .45-70, his .35 Whelen, and his new Kimber .22 (I've not yet gushed publicly on how sexxxy that adult's .22 is.).

I'm bringing my Springfield .35 Whelen and... I dunno what else. Maybe a .30-30.

But we don't have much loaded ammo for same. We're going on a 5-day hunting trip on a several-section ranch, and we don't have much ammo. Not good. So I've gotta reload.

We've got cases. We've got bullets. We've got primers. We've got powder. We've got dies and trimmers and presses and... well, everything.

What we need is gumption.

I love hunting with handloaded ammo that I put together. I love experimenting with the abilities and effects of my own handloads.

But it is better to have handloaded, than to handload. Usually Dad and I handload together, and it's social. Today Dad's off on some adventure, and I'm at his place, reloading. Once everything's set up, it's not so bad. But it's a pain to do set-up, and I'm not used to doing it. This would be easier, I confess, if we were more organized. Cases get sorted, case prep material gets moved, tools get found, and the loads don't get loaded.

I tell myself that I do it for the hobby of loading. I better tell myself that, because it's a frickin' joke to claim that I'm saving lots of money. Oh, if I were organized better and didn't have to purchase duplicates, I'd save a few cents a round. But, as I mentioned, I'm [i]not[/i] that organized.

And the costs are sunk.

So I better get to it.

Yep.

Herrre I go.

. . .