Girl shooting a black powder gun
By MARJ LAW
A small, leather-bound book is caught under the eaves of the old house. I pull it out from where it is wedged.
Inside, I see very neat handwriting. This appears to be a diary, but only a few pages have writing. In the top right-hand corner is a date: October 1845.
I begin to read:
This is the story what happened to me today.
“It’s the way of the world, Catherine.” Paw put his arm around my shoulders. He knows I’m trying not to cry. “Mama Fox is just trying to feed her young.” Well, I don’t have any sympathy for the fox. We had heard a bunch of squawking from the henhouse. Paw grabbed his gun and ran out in time to see the fox dragging out Ardelle by the neck.
Ardelle wasn’t my favorite. She didn’t let me pat her or sit her on my lap like Mabel does. Even Agatha lets me pat her. But not Ardelle. Even though she wasn’t very friendly, she didn’t deserve to be killed in her own coop. She was a good layer and we need all the egg money we can get.
“Show me how to shoot, Paw,” I beg. “I’ll kill that ol’ fox.” Paw and John plan to go hunting. Before he leaves, Paw brings out his Kentucky pistol.
John says that shooting a gun is men’s work. But he is wrong.
I’m 8 years old and I can learn too.
Paw and I sit.
“First, we’ll rest the butt against the table,” Paw begins.
“Ha-ha. Paw said butt!” snickers John.
“You’re a butt!” I tell John.
“Enough!” When Paw uses that voice, I behave.
“See this? It’s part of a cow horn. You pour black powder into the horn. Make sure you put enough so it’s level with the top of the horn. Exactly that much. No more. No less. You pour this charge of black powder into the muzzle.” He pours it in. Then he picks up a round piece of material.
“See this bit of pillow ticking? We call it a wad.”
I look. Paw holds it. Then he picks up a small ball.
“Place this lead ball on the wad.”
I do so. The wad is bigger than the base of the ball, and it wraps up around half the ball.
“Put ball and wad in the muzzle, wad side first. It fits tight, so push it with this. I call it a starter.”
His starter is a tool having a short rod that has an indentation on one end. The indentation fits the curve of the lead ball. He gives a push and the ball is inside the muzzle.
“Now the ball has to go all the way against the charge which is down at the end of the barrel. You use this rod, called the ramrod. Make sure you push the ball every bit of the way down. The Kentucky Pistol is now loaded.”
“Why doesn’t the ball fall out?” I wonder.
“Between the ball and the wad, it’s a tight fit. It won’t come out until the gun is fired.”
“Is that all there is to it?” I ask.
“No. Now we put a tiny cap on this thing that sticks up in front of the hammer. In order to do this, we have to pull the hammer back one click which is called the half-cock position. This allows us to access the nipple or the gun won’t fire.”
“I know what the hammer is!”
“He said the word nipple!” smirks John, but Paw doesn’t hear.
Paw fumbles with the little cap and it flips to the floor. I race to pick it up.
This time he fits the cap onto the thingie.
“It’s done!” Paw gets up and heads to the door. “Let’s go! Time to shoot!”
“Kin I do it? Kin I shoot it?” begs John.
“No, this time is for Catherine. I want her to know how it feels when the pistol kicks.”
“Ah, shucks. Girls shouldn’t shoot,” complains John.
“What’s kick, Paw?” I wonder.
“When you pull the trigger, the gun jerks back toward you. You have to hold on tight. Don’t let it knock you down.”
Paw hands me the gun. He places my left hand on the foregrip and my right hand on the grip.
“You have to cock the gun by pulling back the hammer to the second click. That’s full-cock. Don’t put your finger on the trigger unless you are ready to shoot!” he warns. “Ready?”
I take a big breath and let it out.
“You’ll fall over!” John sniggers.
Oh, no I won’t. I hold that gun very firmly. I stand strong and then I aim at an oak tree.
I squeeze the trigger.
Smack! The ball is in the tree! Yes! I do it and I don’t fall over! I turn my head and stick my tongue out at John.
“Good shooting!” Paw is proud. He repeats the sequence of loading the gun, but this time, he allows me to do it. He warns me to leave the gun in the half-cock position. This way, the gun can’t fire. I’ll pull the hammer back to the second click, which is the full-cock position, when I am ready to shoot.
I place the half-cocked loaded gun by the door. While Paw and John are gone, I’ll be ready to grab it if I hear strange noises from the chicken coop. That fox isn’t going to get at Arabella, Mabel, Edith, Annie, Elizabeth, Gertrude or Alice. Paw is never going to take me hunting like he does John. But some day, girls will be able to shoot guns and not just when the menfolk are off hunting.
Some day, girls will be able to hunt with their fathers. Some day, they’ll even hunt by themselves.
I’m going to hide this diary deep into the eaves of the house.
Maybe some day, a long time from now, another woman will read my words.
And maybe she’ll have her very own gun. Maybe she’ll be able to guard her chickens, and go hunting for her family.
Maybe she’ll be one who can protect her family from harm.
Some day.
Marj Law is the former director of Keep Wakulla County Beautiful who has become an avid shooter in retirement.