THERE is nothing about a shotgun that is of as much importance or that is disregarded to such a degree by the average sportsman as the fit of the stock. To the occasional discerning hunter the acquirement of a perfect fit is like Sir Galahad’s search for the Holy Grail. This may not be a good simile, but it is no exaggeration to say that out of 100 sportsmen seventy-five per cent have poorly fitting guns; twenty will have fair fits, and out of the remaining five there may be one that is perfect in every respect. Exaggerated as this may seem, it is really a conservative estimate. To begin with, only a few can afford to experiment with guns until they find one that suits—and very few men can tell without the help of an expert gun-fitter, and a practical test under actual field conditions the various little adjustments that may be needed to make the gun right.
If I were about to buy a new field gun and were allowed my choice in only one detail of its construction, I would forget barrels, locks, weight, boring and everything else and say “Let me pick out the stock.” For the most perfectly constructed gun in the world would not be as effective as a cheap pot-metal scatter-gun that cost but $25.00 but was fitted correctly.
Yet the average city man goes into a gun-shop, throws a few guns to his shoulder, picks out one that he believes is a fit, and the salesman advises him to take, and walks off with it. While the country man goes to town and does the same thing, or worse, orders it by mail from the factory or through a local dealer.
Now, an expert who knows the exact length and drop necessary for his requirements could not do this with any degree of accuracy in ordering a new kind of a weapon because the manufacturer might use a flat hollow rib, or a raised one; he might use a thick stock or a thin one; or balance the weapon from a different point. Any one of which would make all the difference in the world to the user. No one can tell how a gun will act in the field by throwing it up on objects in a gun store, for he is bound to be self-conscious and try to point it to the best advantage. But in the eagerness stimulated by a shot afield he would unconsciously use the same gun differently. For this reason you will see a man go on year after year making unaccountable misses because he thoroughly believes that his ill-fitting gun fits him perfectly. Tell him that it does not and he will not believe you, because for years every time that he picked it up he tossed it to his shoulder a few times and has unconsciously adapted himself to it.
In England the greatest care is taken in properly fitting the prospective purchaser with a new gun. And the measurements are taken with as much care as a first-class tailor would show in taking the measurements for a new suit of clothes. Many of the best makers conduct shooting schools where the buyer shoots with a try gun under the observation of an expert gun fitter until the proper adjustment is secured; then his weapon is stocked accordingly.
The shooting is done at clay pigeons thrown from a tower 50 to 100 feet high to give practice at driven pheasants, and from traps concealed in fields where they are sprung without warning, to give practice at shots such as one would experience in walking up game, with dogs.
In this way a gun can be fitted perfectly, the results obtained being almost impossible by fitting yourself. Your Englishman is generally very careful in everything that he does, finding that it pays well in the end; a correct stock he considers rightly a necessity.
Another cause of sportsmen falling down in their shooting is that a gun that fits perfectly this year may not fit at all well four or five years from now. As an illustration, I had a beautiful gun built to order a few years ago that was a perfect fit, and naturally I swore by the weapon and thought that nothing would ever induce me to part with it. Gradually my score in the field began to fall off after three or four years’ use—and finally becoming disgusted I had a new weapon built with radical changes in the bend and the length of the stock, and immediately I was back in form. The answer to this is simple—I had lost a great deal of my former nervousness and as a result did not shoot as fast, also, I had taken on a good deal more weight, as is often the case. As a man changes both physically and mentally, the change is so gradual that he does not notice it, and in time he may be shooting a gun that he has adapted himself to little by little, but which does not fit him at all.
Of course, a good shot can shoot fairly well with any gun, and a novice can adapt himself to an ill fitting gun so that he can perform fairly well with it—this is the average state of affairs. But he will never do justice to himself with a gun that is not correct, and the average gun purchased is not stocked on the best principles to fit the user. For some unaccountable reason American sportsmen invariably used shotguns which were entirely too crooked for them: a few years back the average stock had a drop of from 3 to 3½ inches. Gradually this condition has improved but in many instances the sportsmen have gone to the other extreme. The tendency towards the straighter stock at the present time is partly due to the increased popularity of trapshooting in the past decade, and partly due to the influence of the British gun-maker who insists upon his American customer trying to shoot a weapon stocked on the British system, which is not at all suited to American game. The average stock now measures about 2¼ to 2½ inches, which is really leaning too far in the other direction. My experience in fitting others leads me to believe that the average sportsman requires a drop of from 2⅝ to 2⅞ inches. However, too straight a stock is far better than one that is too crooked.
With a crooked stocked gun (one that is too crooked) the game has to be covered up with the muzzle if rising and going away, or if in-coming, and it is for this reason that most sportsmen call these the hardest shots when they should be the easiest. It is not meant to suggest that we should use guns as straight as those used in England. I tried that myself and am now firmly convinced that they are out of place for shooting in this country, for the man that is walking up his game cannot use as straight a stock as he could when it is being driven to him. But there is a middle ground that is the most rational.
Another disadvantage of the crooked stock is that the recoil is a great deal more severe on the shooter’s shoulder as it does not come back on a straight line. Due to the bend in the stock there is a leverage on the barrels that forces the comb against the cheek; and also the recoil is more noticeable against the shoulder. The comb should be as thick as possible, as a sharp thin comb will bruise the face the most, but on the other hand, a comb that is too thin may cause the marksman to crossfire by sighting too far over on the gun instead of down the center of the rib.
The stock can also be “cast off” or “cast on” to bring the rib in proper alignment, but I do not believe in cast in the stock if it can possibly be avoided. One thing that I have never been able to account for is the almost universal adoption of the pistol-grip in this country. And in spite of the fact that almost all of our guns are made with them except trap-guns, there is hardly a manufacturer that turns out a properly constructed one. The so-called pistol-grip as made in this country is nothing more than a half pistol-grip, and the so-called half pistol-grip is really an abomination. If the pistol was made with a grip like its namesake which our American shotguns are afflicted with you could not hit a barn door with it at twenty paces. Invariably they are made as in sketch No. 1, entirely too long to be of any service such as they are intended for; that is to fill the hand snugly and give a firm grip and better control over the gun. For this reason a pistol-grip is an advantage on a heavy duck gun in which large charges are fired—if it is constructed properly as shown in sketch No. 2. But for the field the pistol-grip is a disadvantage as the hand cannot be shifted as quickly or smoothly from one trigger to the other. And instantaneous photographs show that the grip of the stock is changed in the act of firing though most of us think we can only shift the finger when we shoot the second barrel.
There is, however, a greater fault in the pistol-grip for many shooters that is not generally appreciated. That is, due to the pressure of the under side of the hand against the end of the pistol-grip there is a leverage exerted in putting the gun quickly to the shoulder that is apt to turn the gun sideways and throw the alignment of the barrels off the true horizontal plane. This is serious as it will deflect the charge from the intended point of aim to a considerable extent, and cause many unaccountable misses.
British sportsmen have never favored the pistol-grip, and it is fortunate that we are learning to avoid it also. For the tendency in pulling back the hand to reach the rear trigger of a pistol-grip gun is to deflect the muzzle, whereas the same operation on the straight stocked gun is to elevate the muzzle, which is advantageous.
This argument is in no way derogatory to the use of a pistol-grip on a rifle, where it is an advantage to hold the weapon as steady as possible. A pistol-grip gives a more direct pull on the trigger, and the shooting is usually more deliberate.
Of course, a perfect fit is not absolutely a necessity to all sportsmen, for they may be divided into two classes: the slow deliberate shots and the quick instinctive ones. The first mentioned class can adapt themselves to moderately well fitting guns but to the instinctive shot who shoots with both eyes open, makes a mental allowance for his game, throws the muzzle of his gun ahead and lets go when the butt hits his shoulder, to such a man a perfect fit is indispensable. Almost all of our best game shots are in the latter class, and if you ask one of them how he shoots or how much lead to give a bird, invariably he cannot tell you. For he does not know himself. And this is one of the secrets of their success. Their whole attention is concentrated on the game; their guns fit so perfectly that the shooting is done to some extent subconsciously without distracting their attention from the flight of the game to align the gun.
The one thing which the sportsman is the most likely to neglect is the weight of the trigger pull. Yet it is one that I have learned from personal experience is of great importance. The weight of the pull should be made to suit the temperament of the shooter—or the best results cannot be attained. If the trigger pull is noticeably light the average man will say that it is not safe, and if it is noticeably heavy, that it will balk the shooter and cause flinching or inaccuracy by making him pull off the mark. All of these comments are true as far as they go, but there are many degrees between the two extremes to suit the needs of different shooters. The trigger pull that will suit one man will in all probability be totally wrong for another, and no one can decide this accurately for anyone but himself, and then only by the greatest care under actual sporting conditions. The fit of the stock can be judged at any time by targeting the gun and by the use of a few clay pigeons and a hand trap, but the strength of the trigger pull required is entirely a matter of nerves and can only be properly judged under the nerve strain induced by the actual shooting of game, when it is the hardest to judge because the attention is distracted by the flushed bird. It is only the exceptional gunner who will fire at a rapidly disappearing bird that breaks cover at his feet with the same cool deliberation that he would at a clay target, and one that was so phlegmatic would probably shoot almost as well with any fairly well fitting gun, as he would see his faults in judgment that the nervous man would never be under sufficient control to observe.
As an illustration of this, I had a very fine English gun at one time that I was very proud of and considered the best fitting gun that I had ever owned. Yet, despite the fact that I could break twenty-three out of twenty-five clay birds with it (a purpose that it was never intended for), the results in the field with it were far from satisfactory. After shooting through two seasons with it I realized that despite the straight stock, which every one said was making me shoot high, I was shooting under rather than over the birds that I missed. After studying the matter carefully and watching my shots, I found that there was generally a very perceptible space between the muzzle of my gun and the bird at the moment of discharge, particularly on close-in shots. Clearly this was not a case for further bending of the already extremely straight stock, as on long shots where more deliberate aim was taken the results with the left barrel were satisfactory. It was a clear case of lack of nerve control, under the stress of brush shooting at unexpected close-in shots. The trigger finger did not work in unison with the eye and the pointing hand, hence the premature discharge. The pull of the right trigger was increased a quarter of a pound and the result was an immediate increase in the score, as it caused the birds to be almost covered before the trigger was released. And so a personal error that might have taken months to correct by trying to change the style of shooting was rectified. One who neglected to consider the trigger pull might have changed the drop and length of the stock and been more wholly at sea than before. It is seen from this that in the case of slow shots the lightening of the trigger pull will cause quicker shooting.
Generally, the quick, nervous man needs a far heavier trigger release than the slow, cool shot, and will also do better work with a heavier gun, whereas the slow shot will generally find that his shooting is speeded up with a six and a half pound gun after he has been shooting a seven or a seven and a half pound piece.
In my opinion the general belief that almost all misses are under and behind the game is a grave mistake. For I believe that there are fully as many excitable sportsmen who miss by shooting entirely too far ahead of passing game.
Another point that we frequently overlook is the balance. Any gun can be made to balance at the hinge, which is the proper point according to our best authorities. Yet, this is not bound to make it fit all comers. The most muzzle-heavy gun that I have ever seen was the old Greener with which Dr. Carver did most of his wonderful shooting. This gun was so heavy forward that it seemed as if there was a weight hanging from the muzzle, yet it evidently fitted him from the remarkable record that he made with it.
A muzzle-light gun can never be held as steadily on the mark under all conditions, and whether it is light or not depends considerably upon the position of the shooter’s pointing hand, for if he shoots with the left hand well forward in the extended position the weight is carried back, while if the left hand grasps the gun close to the frame the weight is thrown forward on the muzzle. So, whereas some men require a muzzle-heavy gun and others a muzzle-light one, it does not follow that the gun that felt very heavy to one man would necessarily be so for another to the same degree.
Another point that is often neglected is the length of the toe on the stock. Generally the stock should be cut off straight—but on most of the guns we see the toe is considerably longer than the heel. This has a tendency to act at times in contrary ways. If the stock is too long for the shooter and his chest muscles are well developed the long toe is apt to catch and stop the butt from being brought up far enough on the shoulder and under shooting will result. On others the long toe will carry out its usual effect and cause the muzzle to tilt high and as a result will shoot high. This is more noticeable in the shooting of one who fires very quickly, that is, without waiting to correct his aim.
There are many other points that are more or less important to every one as the case may be. Some may think that I am going rather to extremes on the subject of fit; to those I would say that there are thousands of sportsmen whose execution in the field with some old gun that no amount of money could buy from them, draws admiration from us all. Take these old guns away from them and they are lost—their skill is gone, and they pass into the rank and file of mediocre shooters. Yet, seldom can they explain the cause themselves; they do not know, but attribute it to confidence and being used to the old favorite. But underneath it all there is some peculiarity of the gun that just coincides with the physical and temperamental peculiarities of the owner.