The Frontier Sixshooter Community Message Board

It's gonna get warm ....

JimT — Tue, 21 Jul 2026 21:20:21 +0000

this just now ...

At least the humidity is low .... for here ....

"It's all about the south !"......

RayLee — Sun, 19 Jul 2026 11:21:08 +0000

That is the advertising slogan/motto of Jack's Family Restaurants, a fast food chain in the central deep south. We love our Jack's. Here in the heart of Dixie there is one in most towns and many locations in the big cities.

Once upon a time there was a plan to install as many as four state run "rest areas" on a busy four-lane east/west non-interstate highway and the funds (billions) were allocated. But that governor's administration self-destucted in fits of much publicized hanky-panky . The leaked audio recordings sound much like don knotts in character as "bernard fife" lewdly pitching woo to betty lynn in character as "thelma lou". The old lady lieutenant-governor who stepped-in nixed the rest area deal opining, "if you need to pee, there is a Jack's every 15 minutes on that highway !"

Jack's biscuits are much celebrated for flavour and texture but they have dramatically shrank in size over the decades. They (biscuits) are an estimated a third to half the size of the competition's. Recently I was complaining in a good-natured banter with one of the relatively "wholesome" much tattooed and pierced drive-thru window wenches when I said, "if those biscuits get any thinner you'll be able to read a newspaper through one of them !"

To which she queried, "what's that ?" The young "lady" did not know what a newspaper is/was !

https://www.eatatjacks.com/pages/our-story/

The Javelina Rifle

JimT — Sat, 18 Jul 2026 15:55:19 +0000

Way back in the previ0us century, 1987 to be exact, my oldest daughter was 11 and wanted to hunt Javelina with me. She had been going with me on hunts for several years, but now she wanted to shoot one. She had taken the State course on firearms safety and on hunting and was ready! Well, almost. We needed a gun she was comfortable using. She was a pretty good shot with a rifle so I wasn't concerned about that aspect. I just did not have a rifle she could use.

Arizona Fish and Game had authorized the .22 Magnum in a rifle for Javelina and that was what I needed. Looking around I had an old Stevens Marksman .22 rifle. It is the break open single shot that Stevens had made.

The barrel on the one I had was no good, but, the Marksman is a take-down! And I had a perfectly fine Mossberg barrel in .22 Long Rifle. All I had to do was rechamber the Mossberg barrel to .22 Magnum and turn it down to where it would fit the Stevens. The action was plenty strong for the .22 Magnum.

I worked on it and got it done. I did not have a .22 Magnum chambering reamer but I improvised. I used a drill bit a few thousands smaller than the .22 Magnum cartridge. Then, using a fired .22 Magnum cartridge on a home-made shaft, I polished out the chamber with my electric drill, valve grinding compound on the cartridge. It was slow but it worked very nicely. I fitted the barrel to the Stevens, got the sights lined up and sighted it in. Then my daughter started practicing with it.

Opening day found us out in the canyons near Oracle, Arizona. I knew where the different herds of Javelina were and we headed towards one that I thought promising. Coming down a hill towards a wash in the bottom, suddenly we both spotted Javelina on the opposite hillside, maybe 40 yards distant. My daughter said, "Look Dad!" and I said, "Shoot one!" She raised the rifle, cocked the hammer and fired. At the shot a pig rolled down the hill toward us. It raised its head and I told her to shoot it in the head, which she did.

We found that her first shot was high but had taken out nearly 2" of its spine above the shoulders. I was more excited than she was I think.

Those were good days and I am happy to have the memories.

I probbly posted this before .. but if you have not seen it

JimT — Wed, 15 Jul 2026 19:12:11 +0000

The Old Man - A Wilderness Encounter

We came upon the camp quite unawares. We did not know anyone was camped back in these hills and were not expecting to meet anyone. It was a long ways from anywhere. We had been backpacking, heading into the backcountry for several days and it was just about time for us to stop for the evening when we saw his fire several ridges over. We pushed on and made sure whoever was camped there heard us coming. We were quite far from civilization at that point and did not want to run the risk of getting shot by a nervous camper. Not to worry though. He heard us coming long before we called out, "Hello the camp!" And the answer floated back on the evening winds, "Come on in."

We made our way in the twilight and upon entering the clearing discovered a nice campsite complete with grass, a small spring in the rocks nearby and nice large trees. We said our hellos and asked permission to camp there for the night and received a welcome. The camper was an old gentleman, probably in his 80's. His camp was tidy with a small tent, a nice fire pit ringed with rocks, firewood nearby and a large horse under the trees in the heavier grass.

After getting our packs off we introduced ourselves. The camper said his name was "Smith," first or last name we never discovered. He was just getting ready to fix a meal and invited us to join him, which we were happy to do. We added some of our ingredients to the stew he was making and all in all we ended up with a fine meal; the meat was a bit different but had a very good flavor. He said it was mountain lion and gave no indication he was kidding us. We never did find out if that was true or not, but given the old man's resume, such as he shared, I am inclined to believe he was telling the truth.

He had a big pistol in a holster on his belt, on the right side. He carried a large fixed-blade knife also and later on I saw a smaller pistol in his boot. There was a short lever-action rifle leaning up against the front of his tent. The rifle attracted my curiosity as it had a very short barrel and a large telescope mounted on the barrel, forward of where the empty cartridges flew out the top when you levered the gun. The next day I remarked on it. He said it was a "Trapper" and he had set it up in the manner of a "Scout Rifle." When we got back to town several weeks later I looked those up on the Internet and saw he had described it correctly. He told me it was a "thirty-thirty" and at the time I had no clue as to what that meant, but assumed it was some description of the gun. From the way he spoke I figured it must be a fairly powerful gun.

As we ate we told him about our backpacking adventure and where we were heading, how long we were going to be in the mountains and we figured we would head back. He listened intently asking questions about the trail we were planning on taking and made some suggestions of his own. He had been up that way, he told us, and there were a few spots where there was a much easier way to go.

He also suggested some camping spots we had never heard of. He told us of the canyon, nearly hidden in the trees, where there was once a mining camp. He told us some of the cabins are still sound, the water there is good and there is plenty of game. Of course, we had no firearms with us which surprised him. He was amazed we would venture into the hills without any guns at all. Not for self-protection he had explained. That is rarely needed. But what if something happens and we would be stuck in the hills longer than planned for? Firearms are for helping gather meat as well as signaling long distances. None of us were familiar with guns and passed up his offer to let us take a shotgun he had. I never did see the shotgun but later on wished I had taken it. That's another story for some other time though.

We sat around the flickering campfire sharing coffee and asked him how he came to be so far out in the hills. He was quiet for a long time and we began to wonder if he chose not to answer the question but then he cleared his throat and began to tell us a story. He spoke of his youth and a girl, an exciting vibrant young lady who stole his heart and changed his life. He told us of hunting adventures with her in the mountains, in the deserts and in foreign countries. He spoke of her beauty and strength and of the children they had together. And with tears in his eyes he recounted her passing after 50-some years of being together. "I am glad she went first" he said through the tears. "I would not have wanted her to face this loneliness and heartache by herself."

After her death he said he felt lost. Useless. His reason for living was gone. And apparently he became depressed. His children were worried about him and had taken him to a doctor who prescribed pills he threw away once he got home. He said they made him "crazy." His behavior worried his children and they decided that it would be best to have him live in an Assisted Care facility. More like a jail he said. Wardens watching your every move. So he decided to leave. Figuring out how to get out of town and where he wanted to go energized him and he found some of his old stamina returning.

With the help of some old friends he purchased a pickup and a horse trailer. A friend on a nearby ranch let him have an older gelding at a good price and all the rigging with it. It had been years since he had been on a horse but he snuck out to the ranch and spent some time getting acquainted with his horse and getting the feel of taking care of him. Over a few months he stocked in supplies and one evening he just left. He loaded up the pickup and the horse and drove off into the night, not telling anyone where he was going.

We asked when it was he did that and he told us the date. We were surprised and told him that was a year and a half ago! He was startled and said, "Really?" So we showed him on our GPS. He said he sort of lost track of time and wasn't sure what the date was but he knew it was going on Fall and Winter would be coming soon. He was heading South, wanting to get into the southern part of the state before cold weather. He said the cold weather bothered him anymore and he liked staying warm and was even thinking about slipping into Mexico.

When we asked him where he'd been for all this time he just pointed North of the mountains and said, "I started in Colorado. Worked my way into Utah and then came down into Arizona. Went over into Western New Mexico for a while. Not a lot of people in the mountains there and the ones that are there leave you alone." He paused and then added, "Except for government people." At that point we were not sure what he was referring to.

He said sometimes he would ride into a ranch or a small town and buy or trade for supplies; we didn't ask about what he was using for money, fearing that was not our business. He said some of the ranchers let him camp out on a waterhole or let him use a line shack or even a bunkhouse for a few weeks. He told us stories of the country and the land and the mountains and the game. He did not speak of people much and we got the impression he stayed clear of most folks. He said he had some Forest Service people looking for him a couple of times but was able to evade them. When we asked where that was he got quiet and simply said, "Not around here." We didn't push it for we all were thinking the same thing. This was the guy who had shot at a Forest Service helicopter and who had led them on a chase in Western New Mexico last year! They had sent a huge posse of men in to round him up and never found any sign of him.

The next morning before we left I spoke to him privately and asked him about that. He just looked at me and grunted something like, "There are some folks just can't let a man be." I asked him how he had gotten clean away from them and he laughed. He said he just stole a sheriff's department jacket, put it on and rode into their camp and helped them hunt for himself. He said the grub was good and it was a pleasant way to spend the week.

We left his camp before the sun was very high and headed on into the hills. A bit over a week later on our way out we stopped at the same place and made camp. Firewood had been cut and stacked as if waiting for us. Other than that and the fire pit in the clearing and some horse manure under the trees there was no sign of him ever having been there.

I often wondered where his journey ended. Now that I am getting older I have envied the man. And I am thinking of buying a horse .........

(I wrote this article in 2013. John Taffin liked it and graciously published it in his “Campfire Tales” column in GUNS magazine – the December 2013 issue)

I remember when Jack shared that story with me years ago.

JimT — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 17:29:26 +0000

Not being well-versed in double action guns, Colt or otherwise, I did not realize at the time the impact that had been made by the .41 Python.

part 3 41 mag

Rob Leahy — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 17:13:11 +0000

At this point the repair man would call the executive's entire family lineage into question, and invite him downstairs to look at the S.O.B. for himself! After a hasty palaver, Colt called the owner of the Python, and very politely asked him where he had purchased his revolver. Mr. Genius told them he had bought it from Bubba's Gun Shop, in blank-blank Texas. Colt told Mr. Genius that they would get back to him. A week, or so later, two very legal looking gentlemen in very expensive suits stopped in to visit Bubba. They told him that they were from the firm of Cheatem, and Howe, in New York, and represented Colt Firearms. They informed him that they had just come from a very nice chat with the BATF, and that the friendly agents had agreed to let them handle the matter, if it could be resolved to their satisfaction. Their satisfaction required that Bubba provide a record of sales of all .41 Mag Pythons, and that Bubba himself forget that he had ever even dreamed of such an idea. Bubba, of course, replied "what idea?" and so ended the saga of the .41 Mag Python...almost.
Gun traders being the sort of folk they are, Bubba's sales list rounded up only a fraction of the Pythons, since a fair number had been re-sold into the "pipeline", with no records kept. Just a few years ago, many years after the saga ended, I went to visit a friend, and do some trading. he proffered a zipper bag with an evil grin that meant serious money. I unzipped the bag, and out fell a 4" Nickel Python with way too big of a hole in it. "Holy cow! a Bubba Python!" I exclaimed. He had no idea of what I was talking about, of course.
When I asked how much, he shot me an outrageous price, exclaiming how scarce they were, and how Colt had only made a limited run. I howled in prote-st, explaining that Colt's "limited run" amounted to exactly zero! "No sir!", he shot back, "They're in the Blue Book!". Having never looked a Python up in the Blue Book, I snatched a copy from my bag, and furiously flapped to the Colt section. Sure enough, there it was. A footnote under the values listed for Pythons stated that "a few were mfg. in .41 Magnum". Ol' Bubba's work was so good that it had fooled even the experts, who being experts, assumed they were factory production, since Colt denied ever hearing of such a thing. Roy Fjestad's sleuths had assumed the same thing, and their listing of the Bubba Pythons as Colt production had legitimized Bubba's efforts for eternity as the real deal. I consider it a fitting tribute to the man's inventive genius, and an equal tribute to the boundless egos of "gun experts" everywhere.

re 41 mag Python part 2

Rob Leahy — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 17:05:12 +0000

the Pythons. They were all nickel finish, since this was required for his secret processes. Maybe as many as a hundred, or so had been sold to an eager market. . I looked back at Bubba with a whole cloud of question marks circling over my head. He was grinning from ear to ear, and said the he had "developed a couple of things", but didn't want to spill the beans until he had explored his options with the patent office. The Python was priced way out of my league, but local peace officers, and well-heeled gun nuts had already formed a long waiting list, and Bubba was gearing up to concentrate on cranking them out.
I changed jobs, and moved, and lost touch with Bubba, his shop, and the Python. A number of years later, I noticed that the shop had closed, and Bubba had stopped being a regular at local gun shows. Then one year, I set up at a local show next to a fellow who had been a regular at Bubba's, and had even worked for him part-time for awhile. I inquired about Bubba, and he said he had been cleaned out in a divorce, and had moved off. Simply curious, I asked if he knew about the Python project, and with a roll of his eyes, he told me the following tale.
Bubba had cranked out a fair number these. All was going well until one gent had a malfunction of some sort with his. Instead of bringing it to Bubba, he sent it to Colt for warranty repair! The scene at Colt can only be imagined. The repair dept. gets this Python, and immediately calls upstairs, complaining bitterly that it would be nice if you guys would inform us when you release a new product, since after all, we have to fix the darned things. Upstairs would then asked the man what he had been drinking for lunch, since there was no such thing as a .41 Mag Python.
end part 2

re 41 mag Python. Jack is a dear old friend.

Rob Leahy — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 16:55:57 +0000

Memories
Jack is a dear old friend. He has forgotten more about trading guns than I will ever know.
The Legendary .41 Mag Colt Python
by Jack Fowler
Back in the early '70s, there was a small gun shop in a Ft. Worth suburb owned by a very talented man I will simply call "Bubba". Bubba had retired from a large defense plant as an engineer, and was a natural gunsmith. His shop thrived, and became one of my regular haunts. Bubba, and I became good friends, and often traded stuff, and swapped war stories.
One afternoon, I stopped in, and took a seat on one of the old bar stools. Bubba said hello with a mischievous grin, and took off for the back room. He returned shortly with a pistol in his hand, and offered it over the counter, looking like a cat with fresh canary breath. It was a 4" nickel finish Colt Python. I looked it over, and quickly discovered that the holes were way too big for a .357 Magnum. I flipped it over to read the barrel, and neatly roll marked on the side was ".41 Magnum". I kinda grinned, and looked to the distinctive Python muzzle for the seam of a barrel liner that would give it away. There was none. Genuinely curious now, I gave the sixgun a serious going over. The barrel showed no signs of having been re-stamped, and the caliber marking looked as factory as the rest of the gun. Even under a strong glass, the muzzle revealed no evidence of being relined.
part 1

Carefully Consider

JimT — Sun, 12 Jul 2026 14:05:41 +0000

Look at this image. Imagine that it is you. Imagine that the unthinkable has happened and random asocial violence has found you. What would you do? Really think about it. What is your first move?

While you are thinking let me tell you what I would do.

My first move would be to continue choking my attacker. As his focus moves to getting my hands off him, it will expose his midsection and I will drive my knee into his groin. Bent over now, with his head leaning forward, his center of gravity will be out past his knees, which will allow me to grab his head and slam him into the ground .....

You were expecting me to think of myself as the figure on the right, weren't you? If you're anything like the overwhelming majority of people who attend my seminars, you answer that way because seeing yourself any other way is unthinkable .... be honest with yourself. Where did you see yourself? The one being choked or the one doing the choking? That self reflection is important.

(excerpted from chapter 3 of "When Violence Is The Answer" by Tim Larkin)

A Morning Prayer

Miles — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 01:31:42 +0000

"God please give me patience, because if you give me strength, I'm going to need bail money."

"Vegan": Native American word for "Poor Hunter."

JimT — Mon, 06 Jul 2026 14:54:55 +0000

My brother-in-law went to his reward

Paul — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 15:41:20 +0000

Just saw Murphy's post below. Cancer is a scourge indeed. Las night my brother-in-law succumbed to the lung cancer and the treatments he's been dealing with over the past few weeks. Fortunately I'm up in the US right now. Unfortunately I'm out west. Not sure what arrangements will be made, but hope to accompany my sister and her family.

Thoughts On Independence Day

JimT — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 13:42:57 +0000

I am a citizen of the United States of America by birth. By vocation I have been a blocklayer, an aircraft mechanic, a teacher, a pastor, a cowboy, a shootist, a hunter and a missionary. I have lived for more than a year in other countries including South Korea, Japan and Mozambique. I am also a citizen of heaven by Papa God's grace and mercy. My calling is to love: myself, others including my enemies, and God ... all of which I am still learning. If I don't measure up sometimes please have patience with me. I am still under construction.

My one political quote in this letter:
Patriotism is supporting your country all of the time...
and your government when it deserves it.
-Mark Twain-

WATCH YOUR HEART! It controls the issues of life! No. I am not talking about the pump though it too is important. I am talking about the attitudes and emotions that make up and govern our life. Do not allow hatred of others in your life. I AM NOT SAYING THAT WHAT OTHERS DO IS NOT IMPORTANT! I am not saying to agree with them.
BUT
I am saying our attitudes will affect us more than those we disagree with.
HATRED WILL AFFECT OUR PHYSICAL HEALTH AS WELL AS OUR MENTAL HEALTH.
It is like eating poison and hoping it will kill our enemies.
Guard your heart! Get rid of hatred.
You do not have like or agree with ... and you do not have to hate!

A Suggestion For Happiness
-look for the opportunity to do unexpected acts of kindness for someone
-help someone you do not know and who most likely you will never find out how your help affected
-stop any judgmental thoughts that may come and do your best to see the person simply as a fellow human being

One of the problems today is "under-defining" grace. We tend to weaken grace and make it just one of the resources of God that helps us do things either for ourselves or for God. We have lost the understanding that grace is the foundation that everything is built on. Somehow we have forgotten that salvation is God's plan and His doing. We did not find the Lord! He found us and included us in His love. It was totally His doing, not ours. In doing this He gave to us everything that is needed for life and godliness. He made us perfect and complete and we can stand in His presence with no fear, no shame, no guilt. Not because we did so well but because God through Jesus has completed everything that needed to be done to make it so. We often get lost in trying to do when all along we need to realize, it is done! Religion says "Do" while grace says "Done." Remember, religion is "do-do!"

"Now to him who works, the wages are not counted as grace, but as debt. But to him who does not work but believes on Him who declares the ungodly "Not Guilty", his faith is counted as righteousness."
Romans 4:4-5
Did you see that? God is not asking people to "shape up" and "try to be better." He declares THE UNGODLY "Not Guilty" and when the UNGODLY believe that, God says, "Not only are you not guilty, you are righteous!" That means we can stand in His presence without fear of punishment. He ain't out to hammer us! He is out to pour His love upon us.

This is the great mystery of His grace, that He would come and seek us out, rescue us and save us.
We do not deserve it.
Yet He has done it!
It is called "GRACE."

Celebrate the Birthday of our nation ... but even more, celebrate Papa God's Love for humanity!

Blessings!

Jim

Happy Independence Day.....brought to you by armed citizens.

JimT — Sat, 04 Jul 2026 13:02:20 +0000

IF you live through them ....

JimT — Thu, 02 Jul 2026 13:54:37 +0000

My nephew stepped on a rainbow this morning.

Murphy — Wed, 01 Jul 2026 04:47:44 +0000

I received a phone call I knew was coming about 2:00pm today, my only nephew passed away from kidney cancer around noon. We've known for sometime it was coming, just didn't know it would be today. A good man, good father, good husband. Our family could use your prayers, my heart hasn't been this heavy in sometime. I will seek comfort in the Lord knowing he's no longer in pain.

Murphy

~Precious memories, how they linger, how they ever flood my soul~

Gotta love a K-frame

Otony — Tue, 30 Jun 2026 19:41:29 +0000

Unissued, unfired, and sitting in a PD armory for almost 50 years.

I intend to correct the unfired part ASAP

BTW, anyone interested in a 1952 K38 Combat Masterpiece? I love it, but can’t justify two almost identical revolvers, especially when I have three other K-frame .38’s

Pietta 9mm SAA

Bob Hatfield — Fri, 26 Jun 2026 19:12:44 +0000

I never thought this combination would go together like Lennon and McCartney, Liz and Dick or Frick and Frack, but Lord this thing is accurate. The thought of a 9mm SAA used to gag me, but it is comforting to grab a handgun and a lot of ammo without having to assemble it.

My first groups with it were with Winchester M-1152 The US Army's high pressure 9mm 115 grain flat point load that is purportedly used in the Sig M-17. It is very fast and is probably +P+. I wish I had taken images of those groups at 25 yards. My 9mm reloads with the RMR 124 Flat points and 5.6 grains of Bullseye 86 were almost as good.

They were a foot high and 3 inches to the left. I had to file the front sight down to 2/3rds its original height and bend the front sight to the left slightly. In the image below is a 50-yard group using a 6 O'clock hold on a 6-inch bullseye using the M-1152 loading. Knocking over the plates at 50-yards is extremely easy.

For an average of 20 shots that Winchester M-1152 115 gr load averaged 1276 fps and a 45 extreme spread for 416-foot pounds of energy. With the 115 grain flat point bullets it should be a good straight-line penetrator.

Although the barrel of this six-shooter is only 3.5 inches the long cylinder makes up for a total of 5-1/4 inches of barrel (compared to an auto pistol) for velocity gain despite the cylinder gap (which is small). The M1152 in my Glock 17 it averages around 1310 fps.

For a $459 Italian Colt replica it is surprisingly smooth to cock and handle. Pulling back the hammer is really light and easy compared to an Uberti, but the trigger pull is not near as good. My other complaint is that the ejector housing feels like I am rubbing the ejector against a hacksaw. Pietta has the inside edge sharp as a knife and the ejector lets you know it while ejecting the empties.

That is another complaint. The 3.5-inch barrel barely allows the ejector to clear the empties. If you Lolly-gag around while ejecting them they don't make it all the way. But if you are deliberate and forceful it will spit them out fine. This handgun needs a birds-head grip frame.

Cutting Medical Costs

JimT — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 18:55:12 +0000

Saturday Evening June 20, 2026

JimT — Sun, 21 Jun 2026 01:35:50 +0000

Feeling pretty good ... enjoying the sunshine and getting out. Not having any pain issues which is nice. I cut most of the meds except Tylenol or Ibuprofen and only taking those if needed which I don't most of the time.

I find some cognitive issues ... mathematical things are not working as well as they did previously ... some of the medical websites have defeated my attempts to sign up to see the results of scans etc. I have some "memories" that I now know never happened but sure seemed real at the time. One for instance .. I thought my sister was here with me when I crashed, but it was my oldest daughter. Yet all the "memories" have my sister in them. Weird.

Maybe getting a hard whack on the head ain't really such a good thing?

But I am healing and getting stronger. THANK YOU FOR PRAYING! The Lord has been very real and very close and I appreciate it.