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I thought about getting that one but it has a single trigger. I read a review that said sometimes both barrels can go off inadvertently with a single pull of the trigger, instead of two separate pulls.The Howdah is cool but I want the Baker Cavalry Shotgun.
It's like the Howdah but with a stock.
drobs
32 Cal.
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2014
- Messages
- 129
- Reaction score
- 65
You know I didn't even notice that. I too like 2 triggers with SxS's.
I'm still undecided on whether or not to get the detachable stock for the pistol. Some photos that I found show leather wrapped around the metal fittings to protect the wood. Some show the stock without leather.
So I'd have to put something on the fittings to protect the wood stock.
What I'd really like to get is a nice holster. I'm thinking that a drop-down holster tied to the leg.
Or a shoulder rig that rests over the right shoulder and crosses over to the left side for a cross draw arrangement. The pistol would be at about waist level. The pith helmet! Don't forget the pith helmet!
Skychief
69 Cal.
I'd like to thank everyone on the board that failed to talk Enfield out of buying his Howdah....."Thank you"!
7 1/2 and 4 shot, you say??? Color me subscribed and please remember that I'm keen to hear/see results of some pattern testing with the birdshot.
Especially, where said patterns become too thin to reliably put say five or six pieces of shot into the head and upper neck of a turkey.
Enfield, that was a great report on your initial thoughts regarding the gun. Thanks!
Enjoy, Skychief.
7 1/2 and 4 shot, you say??? Color me subscribed and please remember that I'm keen to hear/see results of some pattern testing with the birdshot.
Especially, where said patterns become too thin to reliably put say five or six pieces of shot into the head and upper neck of a turkey.
Enfield, that was a great report on your initial thoughts regarding the gun. Thanks!
Enjoy, Skychief.
I talked about this with a friend last night. Trap and skeet shooting have never appealed to me. I'm more into rifle and pistol shooting. I'm OCD when it comes to accurate precision shooting.
With that said, I told my friend that we have to get a box of clay pigeons and a hand thrower.
Then we got to load this hog leg up with 7 1/2 shot to see if we can hit anything.
As most of you may recall I had a criticism of the raised protrusions underneath the muzzle of the pistol.
These protrusions are actually some sort of plugs that look like they were intended to fill the holes for the swivel mount for previous versions of this pistol.
Those protrusions/plugs were scratching the brass end of the ramrod, leaving brass residue and flakes on the gun. They were raised enough to be a irritant when inserting or withdrawing the ramrod.
Instead of using a rounded file, which I thought would take to much metal off and risk defacing too much of the gun, I used another tool.
I got the pointed grinding tip for a Dremel tool to smooth out the raised area. Instead of using the Dremel tool, I filed away at the metal by hand. I had bad premonitions of slipping with the Dremel tool then saying bad words like dag nabit and shucky darn.
Pictures below say everything. The cold blue job isn't the best but it beats having shiny brass residue and flakes there instead. Besides it is on the underside of the pistol and not readily seen.
rodwha
58 Cal.
Maybe you can convince a supplier to procure the barrel assembly of a .58 x .58. Did that help you?
rodwha
58 Cal.
Magnolia Leather Works sells the holster. However cool it looks there is still the problem of the extreme weight of the pistol pulling one's pants down. That kind of diminishes the "cool" factor.
They also sell a Sam Browne belt but the shoulder strap crosses over to the left side. So the weight of the pistol would be causing one's pants to fall down on the right side.
This would be too much of an inconvenience after dispensing two shots at the tiger. If one missed the enraged kitty, then trying to run away whilst having a wardrobe malfunction would be embarrassing to say the least.
They also sell a Sam Browne belt but the shoulder strap crosses over to the left side. So the weight of the pistol would be causing one's pants to fall down on the right side.
This would be too much of an inconvenience after dispensing two shots at the tiger. If one missed the enraged kitty, then trying to run away whilst having a wardrobe malfunction would be embarrassing to say the least.
Lol excellentMagnolia Leather Works sells the holster. However cool it looks there is still the problem of the extreme weight of the pistol pulling one's pants down. That kind of diminishes the "cool" factor.
They also sell a Sam Browne belt but the shoulder strap crosses over to the left side. So the weight of the pistol would be causing one's pants to fall down on the right side.
This would be too much of an inconvenience after dispensing two shots at the tiger. If one missed the enraged kitty, then trying to run away whilst having a wardrobe malfunction would be embarrassing to say the least.
View attachment 5504
This sounds pathetic but bare with me.
When I use to hunt with airpistols (ok, ok) I use to carry the pistol in a shouldered bag!
Maybe an option.....
When I use to hunt with airpistols (ok, ok) I use to carry the pistol in a shouldered bag!
Maybe an option.....
Weren't they intended to be fired downwards at the attacking Tiger, which was climbing up the elephant to get you?
LD
Okay guys, in the course of conducting research I came across the REAL story about how the Howdah came to be. So grab a cup of coffee, sit back and enjoy...
As you may have heard, the Howdah pistol concept originated in British occupied India in the late 18th to early 19th century. This particular twin-barreled behemoth was named the Howdah pistol because it was carried in the basket on top of the elephant which is called the Howdah.
The Bengal tiger (Panthera tigris) had a beastly habit of leaping out of trees on top of His Majesty's intrepid adventurer-explorers. This wasn't sporting at all. Something had to be done. Wielding a double- or single-barrel rifle was too problematic and too slow to get on the fleeting target whilst seated in the Howdah.
Although it's fascinating to speculate that one of John Bull's big game hunters came up with the idea of cutting down the stock and barrels of a big bore rifle to produce a more portable means of protection against the pernicious pussy cats, it is speculated that idea germinated from one of the local Punjabis named, Dharmaraj Yama Dharmaraj Tmhari Aukaat Ke Bahar Ladchatte.
His friends just called him "Sahib Salmonella." He got that nickname after he took ill from eating a bad batch of chilled monkey brains.
He didn't like the humorous moniker but preferred to be addressed as Dharmaraj Yama Dharmaraj Tmhari Aukaat Ke Bahar Ladchatte. The locals didn't like that as the new nickname fit his personality. When the Brits arrived, it was impossible for them to say his full name.
Known for getting right to the point with indigenous peoples, the Tommies decided to call this perspicacious Punjabi by the name of Sal. That pleased everyone except Sal's mother and his wife. Whenever they were angry at Sal, they called him by his first and all four middle names.
I digress in this whimsical tale of adventure and invention. After their introduction to firearms, the Punjabis and the rest of India got along quite well with this new implement until the Sepoy rebellion of 1857 but that's another history lesson.
Sal was an entrepreneur of the first order. He was always trying to make an extra rupee when he wasn't stealing it.
Then he discovered British pounds - sterling pounds mind you! So, he hired out as a guide to some of the empire's wealthiest explorers. This was a lucrative arrangement until his clients wanted him to convey them down too many tiger trails.
Sal wasn't the brightest candle in the window but he wasn't crazy either. As the guide, he was expected to ride in the number one Howdah on the number one elephant with the number one guy in the caravan. That's precisely where the tigers like to get their appetizer before munching on the rest of the trail buffet. This didn't sit well with Sal.
"Oh, greatest Sahib and ever omnipotent, grand and illustrious potentate, I beg of you please let me ride in the last Howdah on this trail," Sal would beg. [Imagine a Russel Peters' monologue and you have an idea of what he sounded like.]
The number one guy in the number one Howdah would usually ask, "I say old boy, you are acting awfully nervous about these tigers, aren't you? What's wrong with riding in my Howdah so you can guide me along this trail?"
"Oh, greatest Sahib and ever omnipotent, grand and illustrious potentate, I am not afraid as you believe."
"Well then be a good chap and tell me why you want to ride in the last Howdah," the Brit would then look at him whilst puffing placidly on his pipe.
"Oh, greatest Sahib and ever omnipotent, grand and illustrious potentate, please I beg a thousand and one pardons but I thought your's was a non-smoking Howdah. I'm allergic to pipe smoke and need to stay very far away. The village Shaman tells me to lay off the carbs and stop smoking. The second-hand smoke is also bad for me."
Tapping the tobacco out of his pipe the intrepid explorer looked at Sal and said, "I say old boy, I must beg a thousand and one pardons from you because I didn't know this was a non-smoking Howdah. I'll stick to my pipe whilst in camp. Now do come along and ride with me as the sun is going down."
That was just what Sal did not want to hear. Twilight was about the time for the tiger's evening meal. The supplications for a suitable rearrangement began to irritate the client and Sal could not demur any longer.
They didn't make it more than forty yards when a 400-pound tigress attacked the wealthy Welshman and tore his head off in one bite. The smell of curry wafted past the tigress' nose. Then she set her eyes on Sal, who was now on the ground running past the elephants who were skedaddling like a bunch of drunk Irishmen on parade in Piccadilly Circus.
Sal tripped over a buried tree root and did a face plant in a basketball sized pile of elephant dung. He got up as fast as he could but emerged from the dung pile face-to-face with the tigress. Confused by the odoriferous combination of curry and elephant dung, the tigress had to think about this for a second.
That gave Sal time to grab a Brown Bess that someone dropped. He hoped to put a round of buck & ball in her brain. The Bessy was too long and cumbersome for close quarters battle with a tigress. When Sal swung the musket around, he accidentally bumped her on the head.
This only made her mad. She went after the poop-faced Punjabi with a vengeance!
Round and round the forest, she chased Sal who was quickly tiring. He was about to resign himself to join his ancestors. He was hoping that he be reincarnated as a bird so he could fly away from predicaments like this in his new life. Alas, he tripped again.
After he got up, the tigress charged at Sal with her jaws open wide and fangs glistening in the setting sun. The Welshman's blood was fresh on her lips.
The rest of this little tome happened faster than it takes to tell.
Sal held onto Bessy with both hands trying to point it at the pouncing pussy cat to get a point-blank shot at her but she was too fast. Instead of chomping on Sal, she ended up getting a .72 caliber smooth bore barrel stuck in her wide-open jaws and down her throat.
Sal tried to get a shot off but the frizzen had popped open in the melee spilling the powder out of the pan. Instead of dying from lead poisoning the tigress expired by choking on the barrel of the musket.
Sal wasn't taking any more chances. He withdrew Bessy and planned on clubbing that darn cat to death if he could. After a minute, he could see she was dead.
Sal laid the musket down and sat underneath a tree to catch his breath with the dead tigress at his feet. It took a few more minutes for his mates to find him. The look of astonishment on everyone's face told Sal that he must be somewhat of a celebrity.
Right away everyone assumed that Sal had killed the tigress with his bare hands. Oh well, if that's what they wanted to think, then who was Sal to spoil a good story. Henceforth he was known by all of India as "Baagh ke hatyaare ko salaam." Which means "Sal the Tiger Killer."
He kept the Brown Bess but decided that he needed something more maneuverable and lighter in the hand. With that in mind, he went to work with his saw. Sal's saw cut down Bessy, turning it into the very first Howdah pistol. It took another fortnight to refinish and polish his new lead delivery system.
The rest is history with thousands of Howdah variants made for adventure seekers over the next two centuries.
As you may have heard, the Howdah pistol concept originated in British occupied India in the late 18th to early 19th century. This particular twin-barreled behemoth was named the Howdah pistol because it was carried in the basket on top of the elephant which is called the Howdah.
The Bengal tiger (Panthera tigris) had a beastly habit of leaping out of trees on top of His Majesty's intrepid adventurer-explorers. This wasn't sporting at all. Something had to be done. Wielding a double- or single-barrel rifle was too problematic and too slow to get on the fleeting target whilst seated in the Howdah.
Although it's fascinating to speculate that one of John Bull's big game hunters came up with the idea of cutting down the stock and barrels of a big bore rifle to produce a more portable means of protection against the pernicious pussy cats, it is speculated that idea germinated from one of the local Punjabis named, Dharmaraj Yama Dharmaraj Tmhari Aukaat Ke Bahar Ladchatte.
His friends just called him "Sahib Salmonella." He got that nickname after he took ill from eating a bad batch of chilled monkey brains.
He didn't like the humorous moniker but preferred to be addressed as Dharmaraj Yama Dharmaraj Tmhari Aukaat Ke Bahar Ladchatte. The locals didn't like that as the new nickname fit his personality. When the Brits arrived, it was impossible for them to say his full name.
Known for getting right to the point with indigenous peoples, the Tommies decided to call this perspicacious Punjabi by the name of Sal. That pleased everyone except Sal's mother and his wife. Whenever they were angry at Sal, they called him by his first and all four middle names.
I digress in this whimsical tale of adventure and invention. After their introduction to firearms, the Punjabis and the rest of India got along quite well with this new implement until the Sepoy rebellion of 1857 but that's another history lesson.
Sal was an entrepreneur of the first order. He was always trying to make an extra rupee when he wasn't stealing it.
Then he discovered British pounds - sterling pounds mind you! So, he hired out as a guide to some of the empire's wealthiest explorers. This was a lucrative arrangement until his clients wanted him to convey them down too many tiger trails.
Sal wasn't the brightest candle in the window but he wasn't crazy either. As the guide, he was expected to ride in the number one Howdah on the number one elephant with the number one guy in the caravan. That's precisely where the tigers like to get their appetizer before munching on the rest of the trail buffet. This didn't sit well with Sal.
"Oh, greatest Sahib and ever omnipotent, grand and illustrious potentate, I beg of you please let me ride in the last Howdah on this trail," Sal would beg. [Imagine a Russel Peters' monologue and you have an idea of what he sounded like.]
The number one guy in the number one Howdah would usually ask, "I say old boy, you are acting awfully nervous about these tigers, aren't you? What's wrong with riding in my Howdah so you can guide me along this trail?"
"Oh, greatest Sahib and ever omnipotent, grand and illustrious potentate, I am not afraid as you believe."
"Well then be a good chap and tell me why you want to ride in the last Howdah," the Brit would then look at him whilst puffing placidly on his pipe.
"Oh, greatest Sahib and ever omnipotent, grand and illustrious potentate, please I beg a thousand and one pardons but I thought your's was a non-smoking Howdah. I'm allergic to pipe smoke and need to stay very far away. The village Shaman tells me to lay off the carbs and stop smoking. The second-hand smoke is also bad for me."
Tapping the tobacco out of his pipe the intrepid explorer looked at Sal and said, "I say old boy, I must beg a thousand and one pardons from you because I didn't know this was a non-smoking Howdah. I'll stick to my pipe whilst in camp. Now do come along and ride with me as the sun is going down."
That was just what Sal did not want to hear. Twilight was about the time for the tiger's evening meal. The supplications for a suitable rearrangement began to irritate the client and Sal could not demur any longer.
They didn't make it more than forty yards when a 400-pound tigress attacked the wealthy Welshman and tore his head off in one bite. The smell of curry wafted past the tigress' nose. Then she set her eyes on Sal, who was now on the ground running past the elephants who were skedaddling like a bunch of drunk Irishmen on parade in Piccadilly Circus.
Sal tripped over a buried tree root and did a face plant in a basketball sized pile of elephant dung. He got up as fast as he could but emerged from the dung pile face-to-face with the tigress. Confused by the odoriferous combination of curry and elephant dung, the tigress had to think about this for a second.
That gave Sal time to grab a Brown Bess that someone dropped. He hoped to put a round of buck & ball in her brain. The Bessy was too long and cumbersome for close quarters battle with a tigress. When Sal swung the musket around, he accidentally bumped her on the head.
This only made her mad. She went after the poop-faced Punjabi with a vengeance!
Round and round the forest, she chased Sal who was quickly tiring. He was about to resign himself to join his ancestors. He was hoping that he be reincarnated as a bird so he could fly away from predicaments like this in his new life. Alas, he tripped again.
After he got up, the tigress charged at Sal with her jaws open wide and fangs glistening in the setting sun. The Welshman's blood was fresh on her lips.
The rest of this little tome happened faster than it takes to tell.
Sal held onto Bessy with both hands trying to point it at the pouncing pussy cat to get a point-blank shot at her but she was too fast. Instead of chomping on Sal, she ended up getting a .72 caliber smooth bore barrel stuck in her wide-open jaws and down her throat.
Sal tried to get a shot off but the frizzen had popped open in the melee spilling the powder out of the pan. Instead of dying from lead poisoning the tigress expired by choking on the barrel of the musket.
Sal wasn't taking any more chances. He withdrew Bessy and planned on clubbing that darn cat to death if he could. After a minute, he could see she was dead.
Sal laid the musket down and sat underneath a tree to catch his breath with the dead tigress at his feet. It took a few more minutes for his mates to find him. The look of astonishment on everyone's face told Sal that he must be somewhat of a celebrity.
Right away everyone assumed that Sal had killed the tigress with his bare hands. Oh well, if that's what they wanted to think, then who was Sal to spoil a good story. Henceforth he was known by all of India as "Baagh ke hatyaare ko salaam." Which means "Sal the Tiger Killer."
He kept the Brown Bess but decided that he needed something more maneuverable and lighter in the hand. With that in mind, he went to work with his saw. Sal's saw cut down Bessy, turning it into the very first Howdah pistol. It took another fortnight to refinish and polish his new lead delivery system.
The rest is history with thousands of Howdah variants made for adventure seekers over the next two centuries.
Lol....
awebbersr
40 Cal.
Hickock45 has done some review on the different Howdahs. Go to U tube and do a search.
I already watched them. He doesn't trust watermelons and soda bottles anymore than I do.
mwsalter
32 Cal
The Howdah is cool but I want the Baker Cavalry Shotgun.
It's like the Howdah but with a stock.
If you buy the Pedersoli 20 gauge sxs you can interchange barrels.
Skychief
69 Cal.
Enfield, I sure enjoyed the REAL story of the Howdah's origin!
Just great!!!
Best regards, Skychief.
Just great!!!
Best regards, Skychief.
