Special of the Day

Saturday Night Special

Saturday Morning Special

Venison Maple Sausage with Perfect Hash Browns. If you like yours the popular casserole type way (you know the dish; sort of a bastard offspring of a potato and a can of cream of mushroom soup), these aren't for you. They are thin, crisp and buttery on the outside, soft and tender in the middle, seasoned with simple salt and pepper. Add in some fluffy scrambled eggs and some maple and sage infused venison sausages and you have the perfect breakfast.

If you want to add something to them to spice them up, well, Home on the Range usually has something around here. Turk brought these over a while back, with four specially selected ones for myself and my friends. You'll have to guess which ones are for whom.

Something in the Wind Tonight

I'm looking at the radar here. Soon, perhaps, some thunderstorms are going to roll through, but hopefully the bat phone will not ring tonight and I'll be inside and under cover.

Of all the subjects I stressed in teaching the occasional flight student I had, weather was the main one. Making the wrong decision about weather has more dire consequences than any rushed preflight, or choice of the wrong airport cafe "special" just before a 3 hour flight. So I drilled it home, teaching it with great detail. Sometimes when the weather is foul, that's about all you can teach, Sitting in the classroom off of the hangar with my student, we'd pour over charts and terminology, hands waving in the air to outline a point, driven by the wind that was increasing its tempo outside.

Even as a child I was fascinated by weather, by the unpredictable forces of the unknown, of the fire in the sky, the way the clouds gathered in clustered groups of gossip, then disbanded. Growing up at the base of mighty Western mountains, we didn't have the tornadic weather that I now see on the Plains, but the mountains fueled some wild summer storms. The first time I remember seeing a really severe storm, I had to venture out to take a look. I ran out in the back yard, out of my Mom's reach, chasing it like a groupie, the viscous rain trickling like a stream through my red hair, the moisture seeping into me, making me feel completely fearless. I was looking for something, hoping for the first marks of rotation, the sky twisting into itself in cotton like coils, too young to be afraid of the dangers that sort of weather wraps itself with. There's such strength when air masses collide, and though I have no specific memory of that storm, only what's brought back through a picture my Mom took, I can see it in my minds eye.

I became enthralled with it. As a kid I would lay on a blanket in the yard, or just on the grass, my eyes fixed beyond a point I could comprehend, watching heavenward. Searching for something that hadn't happened yet. A twist of a tornado, so far only seen in a book, a crackle of thunder, the soft, draping comfort of virga. Waiting for the rumble of something within me.

We had more snowstorms than thunderstorms so when we got a good one, it was as if the clouds had gathered for some boisterous party to which I was invited, lightning popping in celebration, the lights flashing like a thousand flashbulbs from ancient cameras, every clap of thunder shaking me with laughter. I was frankly smitten with the sky, happy to be invited and like a lingering house guest late at night, reluctant to leave. Only when the lightning started would my mother yell at me to get in the house, with the stern sound of worry only a parent can have. I would start for the house, reluctantly, like a child chastised by a nun in school, head down, movements slower than conditions warranted, then faster, running as if the rain had washed away my chastisement, cleansed me of the cloak of shame that others wished to place on us.


Even when I was grown, I'd sit by the window looking out at the horizon searching for that first sign of disturbance in the sky. As the storm built, so did my interest and I'd smile with each gust of wind against the eves. If the winds were such that there were no flying projectiles, no lightning to strike me, just heavy rain, I'd put on my rain gear and go out in the wild, delighting in the feel of cold rain on my skin as my lungs drew in the cold air, cleansed of the smoke of the past regret. Liquid crystal drops kissed my face. I laughed into the wind and was not cold.

Learning to fly was usually weather that was often laden with both snow and high winds off the mountains. Many days, like today, were spent sitting in the hangar, waiting for the rain to abate, clustered like Maytag repairmen around a ready airplane. Winter storms were the most lingering and strong, coming from the West with the speed of a tanker truck, pushing everything out ahead of their path. On days like that, it was best just to go home and dream about flying. For weather in an airplane is a whole other matter. Weather will kill you without a moment of hesitation and more than one airman has poked his nose into the face of Zeus, daring a fight, and been smote for the attempt.

When flying a plane, wind is the essence of your day. You want enough headwind to give you some good lift on takeoff, and not so much crosswind to cartwheel you when you come back. Only pilots, sailors and and those truly in sync with nature seem to pick up on the inertial energy in the wind. So many things get blown away in a stiff breeze, so many things swept out of your mind with the wind in your face in an open cockpit. Repressed longings, fruitless desire, ghosts of sad reflection, a hundred thoughts never formed and a thousand words never uttered. Wind in your wings, in your face, sweeping your head of any emotion other than the moment, until all is blown past you to tumble to the earth below.

So on a storm tossed day, like today, when it too dangerous to go out, in any airplane, we simply sit in the hangar with a cup of coffee and our flying stories, watching the clouds build and the thunder roll. Watching the atmosphere of the heavens, contemplating the atmosphere of our lives, as the surface of the earth, the surface of our skin heats, particles of warm air rising with breath. Watching the storm build, rich offering calling for some bolder hearts than ours.

As a tiny child, during the fiercest of Storms coming off the mountains, I was told that it was God bowling up above, and I looked with glee upwards trying to get a glimpse of a tumbling pin in the celestial abyss. Now I know better, and can spout off all the meteorological terms with the best of airmen. But it's not the science that fascinates me, it's the weather itself.

Because the summation of the skies is a visible affidavit of all that's powerful and mighty in the atmosphere, in ourselves. It's a cold blowing truth that there's something within all of us that can be gathered up, strengthened. Something commanding that can change the form of a life. The weather brings components of force, some deep innate working in our selves. Lightning cleaving the sky as a machete, the smell of cordite in the air lingering like gunpowder. Thunder echoing as a a brace of artillery booming under a gunmetal sky, the power of the sky a transcendent weapon that can form or scar, however we view it, the landscape of our world.

There's another line of thunderstorms moving in, so there would be no flying for us on this day off, the other recreational pilots gone home. The building is silent but for the gust of wind against the door and I'm left in the hangar, alone in the gathering wind, under a sky worn and gray, ripe with deep recognition. For just a moment my grown up self was whisked away in a storm of time and space, and all that was left was a child cold and tired, wishing there was someone there with her to call her in, to run into the arms of safety. But the airport is empty, and I am alone.

I feel the raindrops on my face, and find that though I'm still under cover, the rivulets are falling from my eyes, salty and clear, leaving crystal trails down my cheeks. I close up the hangar, walking out towards the parking area as light flashes around me, raising the hairs on my arms and illuminating my path. I walk on down towards my truck, toward the empty parking lot where the liquid sterling of the rain calls to me from a distance, the staccato beating of water against my world, the might of a Midwest storm. The storm is powerful and strong, as am I.

I look upwards and outward, I do not look back.

An Evening at Camp Chronograph

There's a lot of good information in various reloading manuals as to how much powder to put in a particular reload. But like anything where humans are involved, there can be a lot of "hit or miss" as well, especially in manufacturer's claims as to the velocity of a load in your gun.

Why?

Because they did the measurements with THEIR gun. NOT yours. Variations in bore smoothness, chamber dimensions, throat shape, headspace and other factors make your firearm unique, even if your buddy next to you is shooting the exact same make and model of firearm.

Knowing the velocity of your loads allows you to refine them for the best possible accuracy at distance as well as removes the guesswork from holdover while insuring optimum bullet performance on game.

I'll be honest. I knew almost nothing about such things when I was new at reloading, having started about a year and a half ago, after some instruction from a friend who is a master at it, and starting with a little single stage press. I have seen several chronographs since then and I can tell you, when it comes to buying the equipment, there IS a difference. Many of the chronographs are manufactured overseas. They are cheaper.

But as my Dad always told me, you get what you pay for.

Last week, a few of us that shoot at Atlanta Conservation Club  met and tried out a new PACT Chronograph. The brand was a friend's recommendation, after owning a couple of them.. Though there are several good chronograph brands out there, I'm glad I tried this one and NOT one of the cheaper products. Certainly PACT could make them overseas and cheaper, but they choose not to, and the quality is evident (not to mention keeping jobs at home for Americans).

In addition, you don't have to have a CSI ballistic lab to measure bullet velocity, all you need is a good quality chronograph. And unlike a TV CSI, you don't have to carry your gear around while wearing a $800 suit, solving all crimes in an hour, all the while looking like a supermodel.



I had four bags of "test" rounds to start with (three pictured) Two bag were Missouri Bullet Company bullets (I'm a happy and loyal customer), with different powder loads. Two bags were Roger's Better Bullets (a gift from a friend) also with different loads. All the ones I tried were .45 acp.

Why a Chronograph?
In simple, the velocity of a given round is a byproduct of the average pressure in that round. Simply put, velocity is the speed of the bullet. There is no free lunch here folks. Velocity reflects pressure and velocity and pressure translate into performance and safety for the reloader. If you compare the actual velocity of a particular charge to the predicated velocity you can determine if you're getting adequate ignition or if you are rapidly approaching the "Danger Will Robinson" zone on pressure even if you are below the "maximum" recommended load.

Taking One for the Team:

Being a chronograph is not without its risks. Chronographs are, by their very function, constantly in the line of fire when in use. They're positioned downrange, and most shooters will manage to nail at least one chronograph sometime in their years of use. I've been lucky and just winged a support arm once, for which cheap replacements are usually on hand. But because it is necessary to shoot between the supports and the diffuser on a chronograph, inaccurate shooting can readily lead to a bullet going through the chronograph instead of the empty space which it monitors for speeding bullets. Outside of taking a job as a target stand, there's not many jobs at the range riskier than that of the chronograph.For that reason, it's not a toy. I wouldn't let a new shooter have a go at it, unless you have a couple hundred dollars laying around you want to get rid of.

For our night out, with IPDA coming up that the boys were going to shoot, we wanted to see if recent reloading was measuring up to speed for match performance, or should just be kept on hand for practice. It only takes a small variance in shot to shot velocity to make the difference between a load that goes "bang", and one that goes "Wow"

How they work is really pretty simple. Just like the opposite sex, you can usually manage to operate one even if you don't have a clue as to how they actually work. They are however, VERY sensitive devices and need to be handled with a little care (also like the opposite sex). The chronograph contains an extremely high-speed digital clock that starts running the instant you turn the chronograph on. This internal clock generates millions of quick pulses that are needed to calculate the speed of your bullet.

Most photo switches are mounted on this type of device, and it's their job to signal the chronograph when your bullet passes overhead. The first photo switch is activated by the shadow of the bullet passing overhead, and it signals the unit to "begin time" (counting the clock pulses). When second photo switch sees the bullet it signals the unit to stop counting the pulses.

Simple in theory but pretty amazing if you consider just how quickly and with what accuracy, these photo switches have to react. When the number of clock pulses is captured, the chronograph immediately and easily calculates and displays the exact speed of your round with a little microprocessor chip

It's a simple formula

velocity = distance/time

In this case, the average feet per second for a magazine from one bag was about 795.. It should have been a little higher, so these rounds for my P220 likely needed just a bit more powder. The round ejected quite nicely though, and accuracy was good.

But a higher velocity is not necessarily a good thing. For most shooting applications the accuracy is more important then the max velocity. If you gain 100 to 200 feet per second in most rifle cartridges, neither you or the target are likely to notice. For hunters, trajectory changes due to these small velocity increases are usually so small as to not really make a difference, and reloading for higher accuracy may even degrade accuracy. In a pistol load, intended for competition we might wish to fine tune them a little more. Why the chronograph is even more important.

But although velocity is what we are looking at here, it's relationship to pressure is just as important, not just for accuracy but for safety. Pressure does the work to move the bullet through the barrel and on to Mr. Target (if Mr. Target would quit MOVING around!)

If the pressure is too low, the bullet could stick in the bore or fail to generate enough velocity to do the intended task (sorry dear, I'm just tired tonight). If the pressure is too high, not only could your fine firearm be damaged, but there is a genuine risk for injury.

I'm not going to get in any greater detail here. I'm a beginner and I'm sure I have a few readers who are as well. If you want to read an excellent discussion of velocity variations, pick up a Speer Reloading Manual for Rifle and Pistol and check out "Why Ballisticians Get Gray" in the handgun section.

In the meantime, if you are getting serious about reloading or just want to check out the accuracy of those rounds you are depending on, not just for sport, but perhaps, one day, to save your life, get a Chronograph. Add a couple of patient friends and a few bags of your favorite rounds and fire when ready.


When you're done and home, you can compare your notes, recalculate what you wish to do next time and for myself anyway, worry about that one thing that all the supermodel forensic scientists on TV worry about.

Which of my favorite bath products remove GSR the best?

No Need to Worry Folks -

It's safe to get back on the ride.

A number of my readers had serious issue with my posting a non-bacon, beef or butter recipe last week.

Just so you know that . . .

(1) I wasn't kidnapped by aliens
(2) No one fell madly in love with me, resulting in marriage and my replacement by a tree hugger (as likely as the alien thing).
(3) I had that frontal lobe damage thing and started eating brussel sprouts for dinner.

I present. . . . .

I'm off to watch the new Resident Evil movie with some of my guy friends from the IND blog group. For some reason it's a spouse free night, as "that's not my thing" was cited.

Who wouldn't love Resident Evil, especially as the guys say it's in 3-D????

I'll be back for shooty or bacony goodness on Friday night.

Be on the Lookout

click to enlarge if you dare

Armed with a simulated weapon and wearing what appears to be a possum on his head. . . .

Carnival Ninjas.

Keeping the small town carnival safe from an overabundance of metal waterfowl and paper targets since the days of our grandparents.*

*Not to be confused with the more overtly dressed "mall ninja". According to legend, the Mall Ninja was introduced to society with the introduction of the first picatinny rail.

Send the kiddies to another room mateys, this is a grown up post

It's that time again folks. International Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Think of all the fun you could have at the range. Muskets, blackpowder everywhere, the air filled with the chat of pirate speak.

Grab your firearms, and whatever tools you might need. (The Craftmatic Adjustable Wench might come in handy). Then, enjoy a day where you can pepper yer conversation with such fun comments as ‘avarst me hearties’ an' ‘keel haul th' plank’.

The most simple gun range pleasantries become so much more interesting with pirate talk.
For example:

Brigid: Can you come over after the shoot for some fine food?

Pirate translation: Avast ye scurvy weasels. Get below deck and peel me some taters fer grub
.
Shooting friends: Sadly no, thanks ever so much, but we have a long drive home.

Pirate Translation : Stick it in yer maggoty gob, ye salty sea hag.

Arghhh!

Then enhance your day with Top Ten Pirate Pick Up Lines -

10. Have ya ever met a man with a real yardarm?

9. Come on up and see me urchins.

8. Yes, that is a hornpipe in my pocket and I am happy to see you.

7. I'd love to drop anchor in your lagoon.

6. How'd you like to scrape the barnacles off of me rudder?

5. Well blow me down.

4. Let's get together and haul some keel

And my favorites

3. Ya know, darlin’, I’m 97 percent chum free.

2. Prepare to be boarded

and the #1 pick up line for Lady Pirates?

1. Pants off NOW!

Have fun mateys. I'm off to practice some cutlass malfunction drills this afternoon if I can find my parrot. (Probably hiding in the IDPA box).

Going the Distance

Whispered and dreamt about, laid out flat in front of you.

A thousand yards.

In that fleeting moment, you will hold your breath in the presence of power. You count that pulse between heartbeat and breath, compelled into an aesthetic deliberation you don't quite understand but fully desire, faced for the first time in your living history with something proportionate with your capacity for awe.

- Brigid

Yes, I CAN make something without bacon

A meal that doesn't involve butter, bacon or beef? Quick, someone take my temperature!

This one's for my readers who are trying to eat a little healthier.

Something other than that first choice for dinner, flaming bacon appetizer, with bacon fricassee, served with a side of bacon.

Skinless chicken breasts cooked with Artichoke Marinara Sauce. Try it on the meat and toss a bit of the sauce with pasta and roasted vegetables. I like black olives, so I threw some on there as well. You could skip that or add some chopped mushrooms or diced tomatoes. With a kick of red pepper and a sauce made from scratch it's really good.

The Bacon? I didn't miss it at all. Now I need to go brush my teeth.

A Good Plunder Starts With a Proper Breakfast

Captain Fishhead, Astoria Oregon

One can't plunder on an empty stomach.

While out West, Dad and I found a number of unique places to visit, between bouts of baking and general adventure. Growing up with a Norwegian Mom, I learned to bake at an early age, and there isn't a Christmas that goes by where I don't make a bunch of cookies and breads to share at work or with friends.

But why wait for Christmas.

Cardamom Bread (recipe in comments for now).

Green and black cardamom are used as flavorings in both food and drink, as cooking spices and as a medicine. Cardamom has a strong, unique taste, with an intensely aromatic, resinous fragrance. The smell while it bakes is just incredible.

I understand it is a common ingredient in Indian cooking, but where I learned of it was in my Mom's Norwegian kitchen were it was used as a flavoring in waffles, cookies and many Nordic breads. Cardamom bread is most commonly served around Christmas, but I could not resist making some on one of these chill Fall mornings. Dusted with sugar before baking and served with coffee for breakfast or as a dessert bread, it's worth the trouble.

click to enlarge, I know you want to

Green cardamom is one of the most expensive spices by weight but little is needed to impart the flavor. Ground Cardamom can be found in any spice aisle at the grocery. If you wish to buy and use whole Cardamom seeds for more intense flavor a generally accepted equivalent is 10 pods equals 1 and 1/2 teaspoon of the ground. If you buy the pods, store them whole, because once the seeds are exposed or ground, they quickly lose their flavor.

There's a reason none of the low carb diets were written by Norwegians.

Have Grill Will Travel

Prime Rib Eye Beef with Horseradish Butter


Season steaks with Monterey Seasoning and grill as desired (I like mine mooing). Serve with wild, brown and white rice pilaf and steamed broccoli and horseradish butter.

Horseradish Butter

1 Tablespoon prepared horseradish
1/4 cup butter
1 Tablespoon whipping cream
1/2 Tablespoon fresh parsley
1/2 Tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon rind
pinch each of salt and pepper.

Press liquid from the horseradish. In bowl, beat butter until smooth, then beat in horseradish and rest of ingredients until combined. Makes a generous 1/3 cup.

click to enlarge, have napkin handy

Move According to Your Opponent

I've studied karate a little bit. Enough to know most people, including six year olds, can kick my butt. But, in addition to the physical conditioning, the philosophy of it has always fascinated me and I've found most of it applicable to self defense in any form. So for today while I'm still out on the road, some things to think about.

20 Shotokan Karate Philosophy precepts:

1) Karate training is more than just the dojo

2) Training begins and ends with a bow of respect

3) Never attack first unnecessarily

4) The practioner follows a just route

5) Know about yourself before you can know others

6) Spiritual development is the first focus, and then later technical ability

7) Empty or release your mind

8) The lazy will not have good fortune

9) Lifelong journey and training

10) Use karate principles in everything

11) Karate like hot water, needs heat otherwise it cools

12) Do not think that you must win, but alternatively that you dont have to lose

13) Victory can come from knowing how to differentiate vulnerable points from invulnerable ones.

14) Move according to your opponent

15) Respect your opponents hands and legs as being like sharp swords

16) Be alert to opponents in all areas

17) Ready positioning for beginners and natural position for advanced

18) Kata and real fighting are different entities

19) Strength and weakness of power, expansion and contraction of body, speed and slowness of technique

20) Devise at all times

From the HOTRS Recipe Archives - Crescents in the Morning

Have you ever had homemade croissants? Not the kind in the can. I have, as I got brave and made some croissants. From scratch. Croissants are made of a leavened variant of puff pastry, by layering yeast dough with butter and rolling and folding a few times in succession, then rolling. Bread formed and baked in the shape of a crescent goes back to the Middle Ages, and crescent-shaped cakes,perhaps homage to the often worshiped Moon, have existed since classical times. Though the croissant is thought to be a French specialty, the earliest reference to it that I have seen is in the mention of luxury breads in Payen's Des substances alimentaires, 1853.

Many say the breads original origins are Viennese, invented in Vienna in 1683 to celebrate the defeat of the Turkish siege of the city, as a reference to the crescents on the Turkish flags, when bakers staying up all night heard the tunneling operation and gave the alarm.

Few in the US make them from scratch and the development of factory-made, frozen or canned crescent rolls has elevated them to fast food. And like much fast, most of those have the delicacy of a Big Mac and all the taste of Styrofoam packing material So I made my own. After many, many hours of work, I had about a dozen plump little bits of crescent (sort of) shaped dough. I froze some and left the rest out to rise for a few hours.

Barkley patiently waited, hoping for a crumb. Or pound of bacon.
Were they worth it? Oh yes. I was only going to eat one, but after the first one, the second had about the odds of a bone in a dog factory.

I have to admit, these were better than any croissant I've eaten from a bakery. So buttery that I put the butter and jam away, and just pulled a couple apart to drink with a big cup of coffee.
Several food writers have argued against the pastry's connection to the Turkish invasion though saving the city from the Turks would have been a major accomplishment. In any event, the crescent shape did remind me of one of my favorite old weapons.

Here you can see a crescent emblem on the Model 1938, built at the arsenal in Turkey. Which leads to my promise for a post on the Turkish Contract models 1890 through 1938. We can have pastry and coffee with the 1954 ATF Marked Rifles and some others another morning.

The earliest model of a Turk Mauser I have data on is the 1887. The Ottomans placed their first order with Waffenfabrik Mauser for over half a million rifles patterned after the Gew. 71/84 bolt action rifle. This black powder rifle was to be chambered for the 9.5x60R military round. When the Ottomans terminated the contract, they made the switch to smokeless powder after accepting less than half of their original order.

Then followed the 1890, and the 1893, and the next interesting modification the 1903. Although the Turks had a modern and well equipped army, and upgraded their weapons far more often than other nations in the Middle East, in this rifle the Ottomans were "keeping up with the Joneses". In this case, the German Army, and they ordered rifles modeled after the Gew. 98 and chambered for 7.65x53. (Note: The 7.65x53 and 7.65x54 are essentially the same cartridge and seem to be interchangeable.) It also came with some other small changes similar to previous designs. If you don't know if what you have is this model, the straight bolt handle has a distinctive tear-drop shape. That will give you a solid clue. The stock should also have a pistol grip and the rear receiver bridge will have a "high hump" at the clip loading point. This hump was necessary to support the unique stripper clip in use at the time. .

There was also two carbine versions of this rifle with 21.65 and 17.72 inch barrels. When converted to 8mm this is often called an 03/38. This is a gun my Dad had, originally my grandfathers I believe, and one of the first I ever shot. The really short barreled Mauser was nick-named the 'Camel Carbine' as it was issued to mounted troops, and it had a VICIOUS muzzle blast and recoil. I think the intent was to make me VERY aware of a power of a weapon at an early age. It did that. Plus when you've been knocked on your ass by the Camel Carbine you're less likely to go running to Mom to whine when you've barely skinned your knee playing outside.
This post's feature is the model 38. The Turkish Republic updated their old rifles to a common configuration commonly know as the Model of 1938 and all in 8x57 Mauser. Although they started the conversations in 1933, ANY rifle converted to that standard is known as the Model 38, even if it was built later. For they were not actually a model of a rifle, but really a standard for rifles to be arsenal reworked.

The Mausers assembled from accumulated parts started during WWII as Turkey became isolated and began assembling their own rifles from stored up parts. The first time both the receivers and parts were made in Turkey was starting in 1940. I'm not an expert by any means, but it appears that all Turkish assembled rifles were marked 1938/K. Kale, for the arsenal where they were assembled. There are also other numerous model 38 Mausers, marked with the 'Ankara' arsenal marking, and these are usually German made rifles that have been refitted. The Home on the Range Mauser is, I believe, a 100% Turk 1943 K. Kale. This is a large ring model with a small shank (normally 0.980 inches in diameter with 0.645 inches of threaded area at 12 TPI) rifle.

The large ring (1.410 inches in diameter) is unique to most Mausers made from 1898 onward. This was along with other features that showed up on the scene at the same time, like the third safety lug, cock on opening, and the gas escape features (after eating a piece of that prime rib I discovered Barkley is equipped with that feature). Though the original idea was for those to take a large shank barrel, the the Ottomans and Turks had large ring receivers made that would accommodate the small, likely to maintain part commonality with their older models. Since they ended up rebarrelling most of them later, it might have been just as good an idea to keep with the old basic Mauser design, but at the time it seemed like a good idea (like making pastry at 5 am).
Having typical 1898 Mauser actions, it's robust and simple. The same techniques used by generations of shooters on Mausers work just fine on this old Turk. And it works for me.

This rifle did get a little "fine tuning" to ensure that all rounds, including old 50's 8 x 57 mm ammo, shoots reliably in the form of a new 24 pound firing pin spring. If you were almost 70 years old, you'd lose a little spring in your step, and the old Mausers are no different. Springs weaken with age and that wear is hereditary with the old Turks. It also has a front sight from a VZ24 Mauser, which puts it on point of aim at 100 yards, rather than 6-8" high at 100 yards as the original sight would have.

Those were really the only changes. This weapon wasn't rebarrelled as many of the old Turkish models were but the birch stock appears newer than manufacturer. Many of the old Turk models are "Frankenguns" with many of them arsenal "reworked" too a more convenient style (read. . a short rifle configuration., typically about 44 inches, this one being 49).

It's a find, and especially at a good price. Like finding anything in the historical market, do your homework, and ask around. Many different rifles can be called the Turkish Model 1938. This would include but is not limited to the GEW 98, Cz 98/22, Turkish Model 1903 and the Model 1893. These are readily available today from varied suppliers for prices ranging from about $150 to several hundred.

Like a the perfect breakfast pastry, sometimes you have to do a little homework and take some time and care when procuring a classic weapon. Quality can range from the "freezer burned" to the painstakingly crafted and cared for. For some of us, that makes all the difference.

Splitting Hairs

Some Bunny needs to go to the range.

High Plains Dinner

The Stranger: Wonder what took her so long to get mad?
Mordecai: Because maybe you didn't go back for more?

- High Plains Drifter

Sometimes what is around you seems pretty stark, plain almost, but if you look close, there's incredible beauty, subtle variances in temperature and texture. Some food is like that, plain and simple in appearance or color but containing a diorama of flavor that will knock your socks off.

This is one of those. Chicken Southwest. It's almost all the same color, pale, chicken, rice, cheese. This recipe is NOT going to win a beauty contest.

But it WILL be the dish people will take to. When I made it for friends I got a resounding two thumbs up and a "when are you going to make this again' from everyone else who tried it. The original recipe came from a great cook up in Elkhart, but I took it and tweaked it, changing the method of cooking as well as adding spices.

You start with rice, a lot in the steamer. Sorry folks, but I don't cook like this when it's just me. Most nights I have a salad, or if I get in really late, a bowl of cheerios.

While the seasoned chicken breasts baked, covered with a thick slice of provolone the last 5 minutes, in another bowl tomatillas and jalapenos are marinating in garlic and lime juice while some sweet onion caramelizes in a pan. The marinated mixture is added to the onion along with some cumin. cilantro and other not so secret southwest seasoning.

That is sauteed for just a few minutes to cook and blend the flavors and served over the cooked cheesy chicken and rice, topped with a dab of low fat sour cream and some more cilantro.

It may not be especially photogenic but this is one dish that will make you go back for more.

click to enlarge, it doesn't get prettier but it does look tasty