Pennsylvania Game News - August 2011 - 34

father had also killed his first rabbit with the gun. I was getting more anxious. It was about time to start, and we lined up in the edge of a hayfield with me on the right. We had not walked 30 yards when Dad kicked out a rabbit. It ran across in front of me and the swing seemed natural as I cocked the right barrel and pulled the trigger. My first rabbit rolled and came to a stop. I had done it. My first rabbit was finally in the bag. The Dumoulin accompanied me to college in California in the western part of Pennsylvania. I had a cousin, Harold Brannaka, who lived near Ruffsdale with his wife and two boys, where I kept the gun. I would go to their house on weekends to hunt. After moving into a frat house, the Dumoulin accompanied me and a couple of fraternity brothers, Jack Devlin and Dave Yuvan, and I occasionally would bring rabbits or pheasants back for everyone to enjoy. After graduating college in 1969 I returned home to Williamsport. That fall the spring on the breech locking lever broke. I retired the Dumoulin and bought my own 870. Grandpa also passed away that fall and Dad inherited his Stevens hammerless. I built a display case for the two guns, which Dad proudly displayed until his passing in 1992. At that point I received the guns from my mother and proudly displayed them over my fireplace in the den in the case that I had made for Dad. I started looking at gun shows and eventually found a spring that fit the Dumoulin and repaired it. That could have been the end of the story, except that I was blessed with my first son in 1990, Charles III. He and my second son, Jesse, born in 1991, grew up hearing the
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stories, and at age 10, as my father had done, they went along on hunts with me. We hunted together for several years and like me, each boy bagged squirrels, pheasants, geese and deer before either shot a rabbit. In 2006 we were invited to hunt rabbits and pheasants on a farm near Pennsdale belonging to Tim and Cheryl Frantz, members of our church. They have a son, Sean, who is between our boys’ ages, and they have been friends since they were young. They also have a beagle. As we were preparing to go to the farm, Charles reminded me that he had never shot a rabbit. He asked if he could take the Dumoulin. He had heard the stories and thought this would be a good time to continue the tradition. It was a beautiful day. Had the weather been foul, I would have left the Dumoulin in its case. Instead, I took the gun from the display case and thoroughly inspected it. It had not been fired since 1969 and I wanted to make sure it was safe. Both boys had started hunting with a single barrel shotgun with a hammer, so they knew how the gun worked. I told Charles, “It’s your gun now. Take care of it.” He beamed with joy and we left for Pennsdale. Upon arriving at the Frantz’s, Charles was excited to show Sean his gun. The story of the gun was told and we lined up to start through a field. The beagle immediately opened up and had two rabbits going at once. I saw one head across in front of Charles. He pulled up the Dumoulin, cocked the hammers and promptly shot a rabbit. Jesse shot the other one with his gun. We paused for photos before several more rabbits were taken that day. The Dumoulin is now back in its case next to the Stevens. It had served our family well from 1889 to 2006. The tradition lives on and I hope that someday I’ll be blessed to see a grandson continue the tradition. 
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Pennsylvania Game News - August 2011

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