The Old Western Field 22 Rifle...First Steps Toward a Boyhood Dream

 Not sure really where those boyhood dreams of adventure originated. Could be from the stories my grandfather told me about fox and bear dens on the old Oklahoma Cavanal Mountain. Or maybe it was from watching an old adventure movie or reading about the grand adventures of Lewis and Clark. Most likely though it probably was brought to life after reading the true story of a man long ago who made a bet with a friend that he could survive for six months or maybe longer in the woods taking nothing with him...not even his clothing. A fascinating story for sure especially for a young boy who dreamed of such things. Most of those dreams remain locked away inside until one day, on my 12th or 13th birthday during the summer of either 1964 or 1965, my dad bought me a 22 LR rifle. At the time it probably sold for around 25 or 30 dollars. From that moment on, I felt as though those dreams had the potential of becoming, at least to some degree, a reality. 

It was a simple rifle; a single shot Western Field bolt action he most likely purchased from Montgomery Wards. But to me it looked and felt like a high caliber deer rifle. Just holding it in my hands and raising it to my shoulder to sight down the barrel and align the sights on some distant target was an act of adventure. On that first day after opening the long box it came in, a smaller package was also included which contained a couple boxes of Remington Long Rifle bullets. Later that day we headed over to a local creek and within a short time I shot up those two boxes of shells plinking at various objects. I'll never forget that first day shooting my very first real rifle.

Still in my youth I relied on my dad to take me someplace to shoot it and to buy the bullets, so it wasn't all that often I was able to get it out. Never did go hunting with it back then, just plinking around creeks and other locations mostly imagining hunting way off in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains. Not until I grew into adulthood did I manage to head out on my own. Most of the time I just shot at cans and pieces of wood and things. Doing so improved my accuracy and it was indeed a rather accurate rifle considering the simplicity of its design.

That accuracy lead me into target shooting. I knew very little about how to do that, but over time learned the basics. I discovered just how accurate the rifle was for it, when held steady and solid off a bench, could consistently shoot a five shot one inch group at fifty yards. That's good enough to score in the mid-40's on a 50 point fifty yard small bore target. That grouping improved when I figured out if I used subsonic rounds like the CCI target rounds. Using those specialty rounds the potential accuracy improved to about a 3/4 inch five shot group. That could in theory score in the high 40's.

Of course shooting by hand would impart a level of inaccurate tendencies into that potential. Even so, I eventually started shooting in four position small bore rifle competitions; Prone, Sitting, Kneeling, and Standing. I rigged my rifle with a simple target peep site which improved my offhand shooting and felt as though I could compete respectfully and not embarrass myself...too much. 

During my first competition over near Bixby, Oklahoma I arrived not really knowing what to do. I registered and was given my targets and listened to the range officer go over the range rules. When we stepped onto the range I looked across the various stations and my heart simply sank as the other competitors extracted from fancy hard cases high dollar specialized target rifles fixed with calibrated diopter target sights. My little rifle looked almost like a toy up against those. They also wore specialized target shooting clothing which helped them hold their rifles more steady. I stood there in blue jeans and a sweat-shirt using only a large leather glove and a sling made out of an old leather belt to help steady my pulse from being imparted to the hold of the rifle. 

Next to me stood a fellow who appeared to be a seasoned target shooter using a several thousand dollar target rifle. He looked over at me obviously eyeing my little gun and politely smiled. I felt a slight bit of smugness from his demeanor. Undeterred, I sighted in my rifle in the prone position at 50 yards and was pleased with the results...then the shooting started for real. I fired off all twenty rounds, five on each of four targets. When the shooting stopped we gathered our targets and exchanged them with the competitor next to each other for scoring. His target looked well seasoned and even though I felt sure I had shot pretty well, I wasn't sure how the scoring would turn out.

When he was finished, he stood there shaking his head, glanced over at my rifle, then back to the target and commented. "You shot this target with that rifle?"

I said, "That's right...how'd it turn out."

He shook his head, "Man, that's some pretty good shooting for a little sport rifle like that. These are some good scores. Never thought I'd see these kinds of groups with that kind of gun. Some of these other guys using real high dollar target rifles won't score much better, and your scores are most likely better than a good number of them."

I smiled and thanked him. My highest target score if I recall right was around 47 and the four combined target scores fell around 175 out of 200 in the prone position. Kneeling, sitting, then standing my scores varied somewhat but were respectable and that little old Western Field sport rifle held her own against much more capable guns. I continued to entertain myself at those shoots for a season or two.

Through the years I have introduced both my son's to that old rifle even mounting a 4X scope on it. I even took them on an early morning squirrel hunt some years ago. Christopher carried a pellet gun and Tim the 22. That was great fun and this one photo I made of them using a simple disposable camera is one I treasure as much as any of them. Christopher, my youngest seemed have more of an interest in shooting and even got him to doing some 50 yard target shooting practice at one time.

On one of Kris and my first dates, I took her target shooting using that old 22. Even today, she will, on our Thanksgiving shoot, partake of the shooting activities. She's a pretty good shot even now.

On occasion just for myself, I'll breakout that old rifle and set up a target 50 paces away inline with my mound of dirt I had put in when we first moved to Kentucky.

 My skill at shooting has diminished somewhat, but that old rifle will still shoot a good group. Almost every Thanksgiving Day after my boys and family have gorged ourselves on turkey and dressing, we will brakeout the old 22 and do some plinking in the backyard. 

I love that little old rifle and treasure it as a means to retouch with my past. It is a past filled with visions of adventure and each time I squeeze the trigger, I am gratefully returned to those days when a young boy dared to dream of such things. My eyes are dimmer, my once blond hair now turned white, and my hold not so steady anymore, but I still enjoy the feel and excitement of how a simple little sport rifle strengthened the heart and mind of a young boy. I am still today that young boy, just in an older body, who dreamed of grand adventures and that old Western Field 22 rifle came along on many of those dreams.