There is a specific, unmistakable feeling to walking onto a historic English shooting ground. The air seems heavier with heritage, and the silence between shots is filled with the past of over a century of marksmen. My first time pulling a trigger outside of the United States was at the West London Shooting School (WLSS). Established in 1901, it remains the oldest independent shooting school in the UK.

What is most remarkable about WLSS isn’t just its age, but its resilience. Despite sitting on a mere 43 acres and being squeezed by the encroachment of modern business and residential life, it remains a hallowed institution. It reminds us that excellence doesn’t require vast, sprawling prairies; it requires intent, discipline, and a deep respect for the craft.

Historically, the great English gunmakers understood this. Purdey maintained shooting grounds as early as 1820—decades before the clay target was even invented in 1880. Back then, it was a testing ground for the mechanical perfection of the guns themselves. It wasn’t until their 1926 grounds in Eastcote that the concept shifted toward “the shooter.” They built grouse butts and high pheasant towers, not just to test wood and steel, but to hone the prowess of the person holding them.

From Holland & Holland to Purdey’s Royal Berkshire, these schools have established a gold standard for what it means to be a “gun.” It is this standard that has served as the North Star for our latest vision: GunPlow.

The "Top Golf" Trap vs. The Professional Standard

When people think of shooting in the U.S., they often think of modern clay target facilities. While these ranges are great for recreation, there is a substantial fundamental difference between “shooting clay targets” and “learning the art of the field.”

I often use a golfing analogy to explain the gap:

• The Average Clay Range: This is like Top Golf. You show up, grab a club, and swing away to your heart’s content. It’s fun, social, and loud, but it rarely fixes a flawed stance or a poor grip.

• The Shooting School: This is a PGA-certified training facility. You are there to work with a master instructor. You are fitted for your equipment. You deconstruct your form, analyze your swing, and build a repeatable, elegant shot that translates to success in the most demanding environments.

GunPlow is a shooting school not a sporting clays facility. It is a school of discipline designed to exist in harmony with the land.

Innovation in Harmony

Many ask how we manage a shooting program on a working farm alongside our livestock. The answer lies in modern stewardship. We have moved past the era of environmental impact. At GunPlow, we utilize:

• Non-toxic, lead-free shotgun shells.

• Fully biodegradable targets that return to the earth.

• Low-decibel shells and proven acoustic buffers to ensure our wildlife and livestock remain undisturbed.

We aren’t just shooting; we are proving that the sporting life and sustainable agriculture can thrive on the same soil.

Introducing the GunPlow Workshops

We are thrilled to announce that we are laying the groundwork for our first series of GunPlow Workshops. These will not be open-enrollment “fun shoots.” Instead, they are highly specific, module-based intensives led by world-class instructors.

Each workshop is designed to prepare you for a specific global shooting discipline. We aren’t training you to hit a generic clay disc; we are training you for the moment a covey rises or a bird clears the treeline. Our initial workshop modules will include:

• English Driven Grouse: Navigating the speed and low angles of the moors.

• Montana Upland Sharptail: Mastering the endurance and quick transition of the western prairies.

• High-Driven Pheasant: Perfecting the verticality and timing of the classic English drive.

• Plantation Wild Quail: Developing the perfect position and shooting angles over dogs required for the Southern pines.

  

Join the Journey: The Waitlist

To maintain the integrity of the instruction and the tranquility of the farm, these workshops will be available on a very limited basis - offered to a small group of individuals only once every few months.

The interest we’ve received so far from seasoned “guns” and eager novices alike has been great. It confirms what we suspected: there is a hunger for something deeper, quieter, and more intentional than a standard clay target stand.

Join Waitlist

We will be releasing our first dates soon. Because of the strictly limited capacity, we will be prioritizing our early-access waitlist.

If you want to move beyond the “Top Golf” of shooting and step into a tradition that dates back to the 19th century, all while enjoying the beauty of our working farm, we invite you to register your interest now.

Join Waitlist

Stay tuned. The field is calling.

See you in the field,

Randy

Join Waitlist

One thing you will notice when purchasing a previously owned shotgun from the English gun trade is a detailed list of measurements. More often than not, older vintage shotguns and double rifles come with these specifications as well. There is a simple reason for this: these guns were not mass-produced to a standard size, as many later American and factory-made firearms were. They were built for an individual.

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The original customer would have been properly fitted—often using a try-gun and a pattern plate at a place like the West London Shooting School. From that process, the gunmaker would build a stock tailored specifically to that shooter’s dimensions.

Within those measurements, you’ll typically see barrel length, chamber length, cast, drop, and LOP(Length of Pull). LOP is measured from the center of the trigger to the center of the butt. Occasionally, you’ll see it listed in three measurements: top, center, and heel of the butt, offering a more complete picture of the stock’s geometry.

The tool used to measure LOP can be quite simple in theory. A tape measure or yardstick would technically suffice. But in practice, that’s not what you’ll find in a proper gunroom. It’s hard to imagine a trained gunfitter, tasked with measuring a client for a six-figure best gun—reaching for a yardstick or tape measure.

A proper LOP gauge is a tool in its own right. Well made, well balanced, and often beautifully finished.s. The moment I held it in my hand, it was clear that this was something special.

Several years ago, I came across the work of gunsmith Paul Hodgins. His reputation as a stocker is exceptional, arguably among the finest in the United States, but what struck me most was his attention to detail in even the simplest tools. His metal finishing, his sense of proportion, and the care he brings to something as straightforward as an LOP gauge elevate it beyond utility. It becomes something worth admiring.

Not everyone consciously considers gun fit or their own measurements. But I would argue that, at some level, everyone feels it. You hear it all the time, someone can’t hit anything with one gun, yet shoots another remarkably well. Often, that difference comes down to fit. Some shooters learn to compensate for a poorly fitting gun and become proficient with it, but that adaptability tends to fall apart when switching between guns.

If you begin looking at older side-by-sides, you’ll quickly notice that many original stocks have relatively short lengths of pull—often in the 13½” to 14” range. By today’s standards, that is quite short. My own length of pull is 15”, while a modern average likely falls somewhere between 14½” and 14¾”. Quite simply, people were generally smaller when many of these guns were made.

There are two paths forward: lengthen the original stock or commission a new one built to your dimensions.

So, is length of pull really that critical?

Ask someone like Chris Batha, one of the finest gun-fitters working today and you’ll get a resounding yes. In shooting, consistent gun mount is everything. A gun that doesn’t fit you properly is difficult to mount the same way every time, and inconsistency there leads to inconsistency downrange.

If you don’t know your length of pull, or the measurements of the guns you shoot regularly, it’s worth finding out. And if you own multiple guns, a proper LOP gauge becomes a valuable addition to the gunroom.

Ideally, it’s one that’s been crafted with the same care and intention as the guns it serves.

See you in the field,

Randy

In the world of hunting knives there seems to be an almost endless number of choices. Walk into any outdoor shop or browse online and you will find blade after blade, different shapes, steels, handles, and prices. With so many options available, it naturally raises the question: what truly makes one knife stand out from another?

Of course, the quality of the blade steel matters. A good knife must hold an edge, be durable, and perform when it is called upon. But beyond the steel itself, I have come to believe that what really distinguishes a knife is the combination of its design, the balance of its shape, and the craftsmanship that went into making it.

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Most knives today are produced through modern manufacturing processes designed to keep costs down. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. If someone simply needs a dependable knife to get a job done at a reasonable price, there are many excellent options available. In many ways it reminds me of shotguns and rifles. Today you can buy a perfectly good over-and-under shotgun or a bolt-action rifle that has been mass produced at a very modest price. They function well and they will certainly do the job in the field.

But every now and then you come across something different—something that carries the unmistakable mark of a craftsman’s hand.

Enter Marc Zabroski.

Marc is a knife maker from England whose work immediately caught my attention. I first learned about him through a piece written by the thoughtful sporting historian and author Diggory Haddoke, who profiled Marc and his work last year. What intrigued me was that Marc is not simply a craftsman working at a bench. He is also a hunter and an outdoorsman. His knives are not designed merely to sit in a display case, they are made to be carried and used in the field.

And perhaps most impressively, every knife he produces is made entirely by hand.

When I first visited Marc’s website and began looking through his knives, my initial thought was that these must surely be collector pieces. Each knife had its own distinct shape and character. The craftsmanship was striking, and the designs felt timeless, rooted in tradition yet clearly the work of an individual maker.

Several of his knives immediately caught my eye, but one in particular stood out above the rest. It featured a red stag horn handle with a blade profile that looked both elegant and purposeful. It looked like a knife that belonged in a hunter’s hand.

Naturally, I reached out to Marc to inquire about it.

Unfortunately, that particular knife had already been sold. However, Marc mentioned that he still had some red stag horn in his shop and would be happy to commission something similar. Before long, the order was placed and the process began.

Over the following months Marc would occasionally send updates as the knife slowly came to life. This was the first time I had ever commissioned something like this, and I found the experience enjoyable. Every couple of weeks I would receive a small glimpse into the process, an image of the blade taking shape, the handle being fitted, or the early stages of finishing.

It gave me a new appreciation for the patience and care that goes into handmade tools.

Marc’s own journey into knife-making is also an interesting one. Like many craftsmen, he did not set out initially to build a business around it. His first experience began simply with curiosity. He owned a knife with a molded plastic handle that he did not particularly like. Determined to change it, he painstakingly chiseled the handle off and replaced it with a crudely shaped piece of unseasoned birch.

Looking back on that moment, Marc later wrote:

“This simple act had started me along the path to becoming a full-time knifemaker.”

From that small experiment grew a passion and, eventually, a craft.

When my knife finally arrived, it confirmed everything I had seen in photos and read about in articles. The moment I held it in my hand, it was clear that this was something special.

The weight and balance were exactly what you would hope for in a hunting knife. It felt natural in the hand—substantial without being heavy, refined without feeling delicate. It was, quite simply, a functional work of art.

But the true measure of a knife like this is not how it looks sitting on a shelf.

It belongs in the field.

I look forward to carrying this knife on hunts in the years ahead and putting it to its intended purpose. My hope is that it will see many seasons of use and eventually be passed down to my boys.

When that day comes, I hope they will appreciate not only the knife itself, but also the craftsmanship behind it, the quiet dedication of someone who chose to make tools by hand in a world increasingly driven by speed and efficiency.

There is something deeply satisfying about owning a tool that was shaped by another person’s skill and care.

And perhaps that is what truly makes a knife like this stand apart.

Not just the steel or the design.

But the story it carries.

See you in the field,

Randy

This past month two of the major hunting conventions took place in the United States. The Dallas Safari Club (DSC) Convention and Expo was held in Atlanta, while the Safari Club International (SCI) convention took place in Nashville. If you have never had the opportunity to attend one of these shows, I would encourage you to put it on your calendar.

This year I was glad to be accompanied by my son-in-law Thomas so he could experience it in person. The first thing that strikes you when you walk into one of these conventions is the incredible display of large taxidermy mounts. They are truly works of art. The second thing that stands out is the sheer number of safari outfitters from across Africa who are there in attendance. Safari hunting is a thriving business and an important source of revenue for many African countries, particularly for smaller rural communities.

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Most of the safari outfitters have their Professional Hunters (PHs) on hand to answer questions and talk about potential trips. If you ever want to listen to a true man’s man, someone who has faced death more than a few times in life, sit down and hear the stories of a PH. Their tales can be hair-raising to say the least.

Beyond the safari camps, you will also find outfitters and hunting operations from every corner of the globe. And if you are not interested in booking your next adventure, the shows offer another attraction entirely: nearly every major gunmaker from England, Italy, and the United States has a presence.

For me, the highlight of the day is always seeing the English best gunmakers gathered together in one place: Purdey, Rigby, Boss, Westley Richards, and Holland & Holland. Each booth reflects the personality of the maker behind it, yet they all carry the quiet confidence that comes from building some of the finest guns in the world.

Over the past few years though, one maker in particular has stood out to me: Rigby.

Their booth is an impressive display of fine guns and new products, all presented within the backdrop of a traditional safari camp. A canvas safari tent anchors the center of the space, surrounded by classic British campaign furniture that looks as though it has just been unpacked from a safari in East Africa. It creates a casual and comfortable setting, which is entirely intentional.

It was there that I had the pleasure of sitting down with Marc Newton, the head of Rigby. Marc spends much of his time there chatting with friends and customers about what is happening with the company. I was pleasantly surprised when he invited Thomas and me to sit down and talk.

As our conversation unfolded, it became clear that Marc sees his primary role as helping people experience what he calls the Rigby “touch.” He wants people, no matter their age or background, to feel connected to the brand.

At one point he leaned forward and touched his hand on the canvas-covered campaign table in front of us while explaining this idea. Rigby, he said, has to be more than simply a maker of best guns. The reality is that most people will never be able to afford one of those rifles. So the question becomes: how do you build a relationship with people who may never actually own a Rigby?

The answer, in his view, is to allow them to share in the experience.

That experience might come through smaller offerings; hats, clothing, artwork, or other pieces connected to the Rigby story. Clothing, in particular, has become an important part of the brand. Marc began telling us about the new line of safari clothing they had recently released. Several of the pieces pay tribute to two icons closely tied to Rigby’s history: Paul Roberts, a former owner of Rigby and passionate safari hunter, and Robin Hurt, the legendary safari outfitter and conservationist.

Inside each garment is an embroidered label that tells the story of these men and their contributions.

At that point Marc reached behind him, grabbed a vest from the rack, and read the words which were stitched inside the lining. You could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke about honoring two men he admired deeply, men whose legacy helped shape the spirit of the company he now leads.

Our conversation wandered across many topics, including old photographs and stories of past adventures. In between stories, people would stop by to greet Marc, photographers, PHs, old friends, and customers who clearly felt connected to him.

In the end, Marc may have summed it up best when he wrote a short note to me inside my copy of the Rigby Resurrection :

“Rigby is so much more than just the guys at the shop making and selling guns. Rigby is people like you. People who are deeply passionate about this legacy of adventure and story.

Hope we can share a campfire someday.

Your friend,

Marc Newton.”

That sentiment stayed with me long after we left the convention floor.

Our goal at GunPlow is much the same; to bring people together at the Old Swede to share in the making of their own legacy of adventure and story. Around the fire, with friends both old and new.

And I hope that someday Rigby, along with the other great gunmakers, will be part of those gatherings as well, so that you might experience not only the finest guns in the world, but the remarkable people behind them.

See you in the field,

Randy

I have to admit that on very rare occasions I have ever smoked a pipe, usually opting instead to grab a good cigar. And yet, over the years, I’ve somehow accumulated a small collection of vintage pipes that I’ve picked up here and there—estate pipes with good bones and honest wear. Some need a little cleaning or a gentle scraping of char from their bowls, but all of them carry the same quiet appeal that draws me to vintage guns. They show use. They show time. And they remind you that someone else once sat beside a fire, thinking about the day just past.

The first time I visited the Alfred Dunhill Bourdon House, I wandered into a wood-framed glass cabinet filled with neatly displayed pipes. It was, in my mind, one of the most beautiful displays of simple objects I had ever seen. There is something about the shapes, billiards, bulldogs, apples, princes, that speaks to craftsmanship and tradition. Dunhill has long been one of the great houses of pipe making. Since Alfred Dunhill began producing pipes in London in 1910, his workshop became known for its careful curing of briar, precision drilling, and elegant finishes like the Root Briar, Shell Briar, and Bruyère. Each pipe was meant to be not just smoked, but kept, something a gentleman might carry for decades and pass along.

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I kept that cabinet in my mind for years, hoping someday to replicate something similar. When we started building out the Old Swede, I knew we wouldn’t have room for a large display, but I wanted a small offering for guests who might like to try a pipe after supper. I found a modest oak-framed cabinet that now hangs in the bar. Using small black clips inspired by that Dunhill display, we neatly hung eighteen pipes, ready for the choosing. With a few other racks nearby, we keep about thirty pipes available for friends who come to sit awhile.

Pipes, of course, are only half the story. The other half is tobacco. I keep a few tins on hand, some London Mixture and a couple of Erik Nørding’s Hunter Blend. The London Mixture surprised me with its balance and aroma, built on matured Virginia leaf with Oriental tobaccos layered in.

Virginia tobacco has always been at the heart of pipe smoking. Grown first in the American colonies and cured slowly to bring out its natural sugars, it became one of the most dependable base tobaccos in Britain and Europe. It burns cool, carries flavor gently, and mixes well with Orientals or Latakia. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Virginia leaf was shipped in great quantity to England, where taverns and pubs would sell a small measure of tobacco along with simple clay pipes, men standing at the bar sharing news of crops, politics, or the morning’s shoot. That easy, steady smoke became part of the rhythm of evenings across the countryside.

There’s something comforting in that continuity. A cool evening around the fire, a pipe that caught your eye from the rack, a slow smoke and quiet talk about memorable hunts with good friends, it feels like a small link in a very long chain.

I hope one evening you can join us at the Old Swede and choose a pipe from the cabinet yourself. We’ll sit by the fire, pour a little whiskey, and let the smoke drift up into the rafters with the stories.

See you in the field,

Randy

There is a quiet dignity to the pheasant that hangs above the mantle in the Old Swede library. He stands in his glazed wood case just as he must have stood a century and a half ago, alert, burnished copper and green, his long tail sweeping back into a painted farm scene where a little chalk stream winds through pasture grass. The fire softens the light in the room on the glass. The painted sky fades gently into the background and when guests settle into the leather chairs for a quiet bourbon and cigar, your eyes always find him.

That pheasant is not just for decoration although I do think that it is a really remarkable piece. He is memory of a time honored in the past.

I first saw this 19th century glassed cased pheasant about three years ago in a store that sold fine antiques. I was immediately drawn to it at first glance but quickly dismissed the notion of buying it when I saw the asking price. Fast forward a couple of years. My wife saw the same case after the store had moved locations. She had no idea that I even knew it existed. Knowing what were doing at the Old Swede, she thought it would be perfect for the empty space above the mantle in the library and that it would be a great birthday present for me, she was right on both fronts.

I have read that in 19th century Victorian England, taxidermy cases like this were cherished objects on sporting estates and lodges. Advances in glassmaking during Queen Victoria’s reign allowed craftsmen to build large glazed display cases, while natural history was sweeping the country. Gentlemen collectors studied birds and other game with the same enthusiasm they devoted to shooting, fishing, and estate management. Museums such as the Natural History Museum inspired lifelike mounting techniques pioneered by men like John Hancock, and soon estates across Britain began commissioning cases of their own birds.

These cases were sought after because they did something few things can do without any words. They told the story of a moment in time of the land and stewardship in a single glance. A pheasant in a case might commemorate a great day’s shooting, the first successful season under a new keeper, or a bird taken on a beloved drive. Sometimes they honored a visiting friend or a son’s first brace. Often they simply recorded pride in an estate’s careful management of hedgerows, coverts, streams, and field.

The painted backgrounds were part of that storytelling. Taxidermists did not paint generic landscapes. They painted the places where the bird lived, fields bordered by hawthorn, cottages tucked into the hedgerow, trout streams running clear through chalk beds. Our case at the Old Swede, with its little farm scene and stream, is exactly that tradition: a portrait of the land. It reminds me that shooting, farming, fishing, and husbandry were never separate pursuits on a good estate. They were one life lived carefully.

That is why these cases were hung in libraries and gunrooms rather than hidden away. They belong where conversation happened. Guests arriving at grand estates or revered gunrooms would see birds mounted above sideboards and hearths, silent witnesses to seasons past. They set a tone of respect for game, pride in the land and a gratitude for fellowship.

And that is exactly what I am looking forward to happening at the Old Swede.

When friends gather after a GunPlow workshop, or when the dogs stretch out beside the hearth after a long day of work, the pheasant above the mantle reminds everyone why this place exists. He ties the farm to the chalk streams of England. He links our vision of GunPlow, small groups, fine guns and careful stewardship, to the long tradition of estates that understood their role as guardians of land and culture.

Objects like this matter because they anchor our intention. They remind me that GunPlow is not just about shooting birds or hosting events. It is about creating a place where memories are made, where the sport is respected and where guests will feel part of a story that began long before them and I know will continue long after.

That pheasant, quietly watching over the Old Swede library, is the first chapter of that story.

Someday, perhaps, another case will sit quietly in another room, a quail from a crisp morning hunt, grouse from a remarkable trip, all with a memory of the dogs, weather, friends, and laughter. And I hope that someone years from now will sit by that fire and feel what many have felt before them: that this house belongs to a living tradition.

A fire, a good table, a dog asleep by the fire, and a pheasant in a Victorian case, reminding all of us to cherish simple moments and the time we have to experience them.

See you in the field,

Randy

I don’t know that there’s any official criteria for what constitutes a proper gun table. There’s no rulebook for it. Yet I’ve always taken a particular interest in them whenever I’ve come across one, whether in a gun shop, a shooting school, or tucked into the corner of a maker’s showroom.

Maybe it’s because they usually have guns resting on them. Or measuring tools laid out neatly, length-of-pull gauges, bend sticks, those old wood and brass instruments used to measure cast and drop at comb. It is a working surface, but it is also something more.

The first gun table that truly grabbed my attention was at West London Shooting School. It sits squarely in the center of their main room, impossible to miss because of its size and presence. What struck me most was the patina, the honest wear on its surface, edges, and corners. You could see the history in it. It’s easy to understand why it’s so large. There’s a constant flow of activity around it: gun cleaning, adjustments, instructors measuring try-guns, often several at once. Old brass length-of-pull tools and bend sticks are frequently laid across the top, waiting for the next client to come in with their instructor from the shooting grounds. It feels alive, as though the table itself is part of the instruction.

I’ve always admired Holland & Holland’s table at their old Bruton Street showroom in London, now in St. James. It’s closer to the size of a large office desk, but refined, with a leather inset top that immediately softens the room. I particularly appreciate the scalloped cut-outs at the end, allowing a gun to rest securely without fear of sliding or tipping. Their Dallas gun room has a similar table, and it carries that same quiet confidence, purposeful, elegant, understated.

Wherever I’ve traveled, I’ve noticed that every gun table has its own personality. Westley Richards in Birmingham has a large one as well, with what appears to be elephant hide inset into the top. A fitting detail for a house so closely associated with dangerous game rifles. I can only imagine the stories held within that surface. I’m certain that Rigby and Purdey’s tables are no less fabled, given their histories. Think of the guns that must have rested there, sidelocks, double rifles, heirlooms passed through generations. In many ways, these are the “who’s who” of gun tables.

When we were building out The Old Swede and deciding how each room would lay out, I knew immediately that I wanted a gun table in the center of our mudroom. It felt essential. Years ago, I had a desk built by a cabinetmaker in California. It’s made of knotty alder and has the look and weight of proper furniture. The only drawback was its height, it always felt a bit too tall to function comfortably as a desk. But as a gun table, it’s perfect. Sometimes a piece just has to find its true purpose.

Whether you’re cleaning a gun after a long day in the field or carefully inspecting one before a shoot, it’s nice to have a central place to gather and do that work. There’s something communal about it. A gun table invites conversation, about loads, about birds missed and birds well taken, about the maker’s name engraved on the side and rib.

If you find yourself at an event at The Old Swede someday, I hope you’ll join me around that table. Bring your own gun. Lay it down. Clean it properly. Take your time. That’s how memories are made, not just in the field, but around the table afterward.

See you in the field,

Randy

It’s been cold up on Lookout Mountain the past few weeks. It has felt especially cold out at the farm. Thankfully at the Old Swede and our other structures we have wood burning stoves and fireplaces and lots of hardwood trees on the farm. Almost all the wood we burn is either red or white oak and hickory. We have several large trees down right now, blown over from past storms. The supply of quality firewood is plentiful. Thankfully we enjoy cutting and splitting firewood as well. I love the saying about how many times firewood warms you. I usually hear it said as three times but the Swedish saying is “Veden värmer många gånger.” or literally, “It warms you many times”. When you cut it, split it, stack it, and finally burn it.

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In the Old Swede we have three wood stoves and a fireplace in the main dining room. This may seem to be overkill but when it's as cold as it has been, I don’t think that there is any more comforting warmth than from a wood fire. I chose a different wood stove for each of the rooms based on the room size and its layout.

In our mudroom we have a large potbelly stove that really heats that space up extremely well that sits against the far wall from where you walk in. The stone against the wall serves two purposes, it protects the wall from overheating and potentially causing a fire and secondly it absorbs a lot of heat and radiates it out over a longer period of time even when the fire dies down. The shape of the stove is tall and slender giving us plenty of room to move around the the gun cleaning table when moving to the restroom or the bar. I imagined that room with people hanging their coats up to dry and cleaning wet guns with a dog curled up in front of the stove getting warm after spending a long day out in the cold.

Walking into the bar you can see a small rectangular stove just over the bar top. This space is tight and I imagine it’s going to get crowded in here as most bars do so I didn’t want anything too intrusive. I am still not sold on this little stove. For some reason it’s not drawing very well and therefore it never gets very hot. That might be a good thing with a packed room but we’ll see.

Next to the bar and mudroom is the library. This room is pretty narrow but I really wanted some sort of fire in here, for ambiance and of course warmth. Melinda, my wife, had the great idea of cutting a hole in the wall to the outside and push out and to build a stone enclosure, so that’s what we did. It left our walk through open to the dining room while giving us a place to have a fire. This stone as well was sourced completely from around the farm.

Our last room is the dining room. It is the only room with a fireplace. It was painted with a thick coat of gray epoxy and some other colors beneath that through the years. After a few hours of tedious labor with a scraper and wire wheel, it got down to an acceptable rustic look. I was able to source some old wood cabin logs for the mantle. Having a good size group of people in this room for a Shoot Lunch with the fire crackling will definitely be a good memory.

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Outside we have two large fire pits for people to sit around and enjoy the cool air while still staying warm, well maybe a nice cigar and a little bourbon will help as well.

In all of these spaces I hope that people will be able to relax and enjoy themselves, “and embrace the bonhomie of time spent among friends, old and new.” (James Purdey)

See you in the field,

Randy

Portraits of History

I doubt that when my great great grandparents on my mom’s side had their portraits painted that they could have ever imagined they would be hanging on the wall of one of their generational grandsons, let alone to be featured prominently at The Old Swede.

These portraits below are of Colonel John N. Taylor and his wife Bellvina Knowles Taylor. John N Taylor was a Colonel in the civil war. They were left for several years in a barn, unprotected among a bunch of miscellaneous items. When I discovered them one day amongst other stored boxes, I saw that they were succumbing to mold and rapidly decaying. I took them out just to preserve their integrity, cleaned them as carefully as I could and placed them in my office.

After the civil war he settled in East Liverpool, Ohio, married Bellivina Knowles and became an owner of Knowles, Taylor, Knowles Pottery Company. Bellvina’s father W. Knowles had opened a small pottery business in East Liverpool in 1854. In 1870, John Taylor and Homer S. Knowles joined the company. The operation expanded during the next two decades. By the 1880s, Knowles, Taylor and Knowles was producing translucent china. By 1890, the company was the largest manufacturer of white granite plain and decorative ware in the nation. The factory closed in 1931. Their pottery can still be found today on display in museums and in auctions.

I have only heard of stories about them as a kid growing up. My late grandmother, Bonnie(Nana to me)would talk about the life they lived of luxury with maids, nannies and butlers only to lose everything as a result of the Great Depression. They were friends of President McKinley and exchanged visits with each other. I have seen the dinner invitations they received to the White House, requesting their presence.

So what does this all have to do with The Old Swede and a lifestyle of fine sporting? For me quite a lot. It reminds me that our past is filled with people who worked hard to build their lives and as a result left a very small mark on the history of our country through something so small as chinaware. The fact that they were “builders” , something that I have been told I am, gives me a sense of pride that my great great grandfather and grandmother were “builders”, willing to take risks and help grow a company that no doubt impacted many employees and families in a positive way including me. I am glad that I am able to honor them in a small way just by hanging their portraits up, so that I can look at them, be reminded of family who came before me and to not take what they accomplished for granted.

This is also what GunPlow and The Old Swede are all about at the end of the day. Honoring history. Bringing folks together who respect those craftsmen and gun companies who have come before them, who have ensured that legacies will endure and the opportunity will be given in order to experience and partake in a lifestyle that is fading away in many aspects. It’s about honoring the past in a small way through respect for the land, the game and the people who work hard to make it all happen. So the next time you are out on a moor, standing at a peg or over a dog on point, remember you are building and preserving a lifestyle for others who will come after you. Appreciate the moment and everyone and everything who are all part of that experience. Remember one day, your great great grandson may be writing about you.

See you in the field,

Randy

An Outdoor Kitchen at The Old Swede

I’ve spent a good deal of time thinking about what the ideal outdoor kitchen should be at The Old Swede, and how it can best serve both our GunPlow gatherings and the simple pleasure of bringing people together around food and fire. What I keep coming back to is balance - creating a space that works hard as a true kitchen, teaches well as a demonstration and learning space, and still feels inviting enough to linger in long after the plates are cleared.

That’s a tall order for any one structure, but it felt like the right place to start was with a wish list. So I sat down and wrote out everything I could imagine wanting in the space, no editing, no restraint. The list is long, but here it is:

• Propane BBQ and burners

• A wood-fired pizza oven

• An Argentine-style wood grill, inspired by Grill Works USA

• A Green Egg BBQ

• A large propane griddle

• An antique butcher-block island

• A walk-in cooler (still under consideration)

• Two oversized farm sinks

• A dedicated butchering area with a floor drain and gambrel rail system

• A 14-foot butcher-block counter for demonstrations, observation, and eating

• And, anchoring it all, a large stone fireplace

It’s a lot, I know. But once the list was down on paper, it became clear that the structure itself would need to be generous enough to let all of this breathe. After some good brainstorming sessions with our builder, we settled on an 18’ × 36’ post-and-beam structure with a gabled roof that will be substantial, open, and timeless.

At its heart, this space is meant to serve multiple roles. It will function as a working kitchen for catered events, a teaching kitchen for classes and demonstrations, and an entertaining space for gathering before, during, and after a day in the field. Much of our use will revolve around shoot lunches that take place during GunPlow workshops, meals that are unhurried and rooted in the traditions of the sporting field.

One of the things I’m most excited about is bringing in chefs and craftsmen who truly know wild game, people who make their living breaking down animals, caring for the meat, and preparing it properly for the table. There is simply no substitute for standing shoulder-to-shoulder with someone like that, watching their hands, asking questions, and learning in real time. It’s encouraging to see a renewed interest in eating game that has been ethically taken from the wild, and this kitchen will be a place to celebrate and pass along that knowledge.

Just as important is the atmosphere. This will be a warm, covered outdoor space designed to be used year-round. The stone fireplace will be built using rock collected right here on the farm, much of it salvaged from what was once the foundation of an old barn. While clearing an area that showed traces of a former structure, I had those moments every landowner knows well: the excavator bucket striking something solid and heavy, that small surge of excitement as you realize you’ve uncovered a piece of the past. We separated usable stone from the concrete debris and ended up with several good piles ready for new life.

There’s something deeply satisfying about repurposing materials from the land itself. Even the bulls took an interest, watching closely as I worked, clearly deciding whether I was a threat to their favorite hangout. I must have passed inspection, they wandered off about fifty feet, laid down, and kept an eye on things from there.

That fireplace will bring warmth and comfort on winter days, cool spring evenings, and those perfect fall afternoons when there’s just enough chill in the air. All of the firewood will come from the property as well. We already have stacks of logs waiting patiently to be cut and split for future gatherings.

The structure itself will be built using traditional hand-hewn post-and-beam methods. Each timber will be laid out, cut for its specific location, and numbered before assembly. Mortise-and-tenon joints will be cut by hand, with holes drilled for black walnut pegs sourced locally from our mountain. The main timbers are New England white pine, carefully dried and cured to preserve strength and resist warping or splitting. Watching a rough-sawn beam slowly take its final form is a fascinating process, one that feels entirely in keeping with the spirit of this place.

I’m looking forward to sharing progress as the build moves along in the coming weeks. With a little luck, our first event won’t be too far off, and you’ll be able to join us here, to stand by the fire, share a meal, and experience The Old Swede, the outdoor kitchen, and all the life unfolding around the farm.

See you in the field,
Randy

A Shooting Gentleman’s Range Rover

Over the years Overfinch has collaborated with Holland & Holland to create bespoke offerings for the discerning gun who appreciates what is truly unique in the fine sporting world. This past year, Holland & Holland teamed up with Overfinch once again to create a truly over-the-top SUV designed to take you to your shooting engagements in ultimate style.

Overfinch is a London-based company that has specialized in commissioning high-end luxury modifications of Land Rover vehicles since 1975. Their Heritage Edition Range Rover, shown below, was released a few years ago and was anything but ordinary.

Overfinch’s attention to detail is second to none, as seen in these photos. Who wouldn’t want to roll up to a shooting day and unload a pair of side-by-sides from the back of one of these?

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New School Style

The latest collaboration, released just before the end of 2025, pays homage to shooting and the iconic Holland & Holland name in a remarkable display of creativity and craftsmanship.

This new Holland & Holland Edition will set you back roughly $650,000, with only 25 examples produced. The Holland & Holland nods are everywhere you look, inside and out.

Obviously this Range Rover is extreme and will likely see few shooting days, especially in the States. Yet despite its bold details, at heart it remains a true 4x4 — built to go off-road and carry you and your guns wherever the next shoot may be. This is not a gimmick, but a genuine display of British craftsmanship, the same craftsmanship found in every “London Best” gun.

See you in the field,
Randy

PS: If you show up in one of these, be sure to pick me up — I’ll be ready.

Living in Tennessee I get a couple of common responses from most people when they hear I am from California. First, they love to call it the Left Coast. I get it, a large population of California hails to the left and maybe further. The second question I often get is about having guns and hunting. I am quick to point out the ruralness of California when you leave the metropolitan areas of Los Angeles or San Francisco and the Bay area.

My boys only lived in California for a few years when they were younger and have visited a handful times. Our trips back now though, primarily consist of staying in Southern California at the beach. This area is beautiful in many ways, which includes the amazing weather. Our trip back this time also included some time near Santa Barbara and the beach in southern California but I really wanted them to experience “my California”.

I was raised in a small rural town, Paso Robles, which is on the central coast. I grew up knowing that having only five or ten acres of land was pretty small when it came to riding your dirtbike or horse. You could only have cows if you wanted to throw them a bale of hay everyday. A piece of property that small wasn’t enough ground to free graze even a single cow. Don’t get me wrong, I loved living outside of town in the country and being able to enjoy our property as a kid. The real California though, is what most people in the state don’t ever experience. It’s the ranches that exist in the hills and can stretch for miles both ways. They were often part of old Spanish land grants in their early years. These ranches operate as a business usually consist of thousands of acres. A 10,000 acre (or more) ranch isn’t uncommon. They run cattle, raise crops such wheat, barley, oats or have vineyards and sell access to hunting. This is the California I know and I wanted my boys to experience as well.

The best way to do this I figured was to take my boys on a wild pig hunt. Wild pigs are doing well in California, so well that they do not have a season. They are robust and do a lot of damage to crops and the landscape in general. The reason I picked a pig hunt for my boys to see my California was multifaceted: 1. I knew that my youngest, who has had no success the past two seasons of even seeing a deer to shoot, would get the opportunity to harvest a wild pig. 2. He would also be able to take part in the proper way to skin and clean an animal right there on the ranch standing shoulder to shoulder with someone who does it everyday for a living. 3. The pig could be cut and processed by a local butcher and we would have some very organic free range quality pork for our table. I do not think that pork can get any more organic or free range than a wild pig that runs free over thousands of acres. 4. Finally to get to the pigs meant we were able to access a private ranch and experience what a working California ranch looks like up close. Much of its infrastructure and land would be seen while hunting. We also had the chance to walk through lots of native tree and plant species as well as spotting Blacktail deer and coveys of California quail.

Our guide for the day was Logan Roth, of Roth Hunting, a family business. He is a Cal Poly graduate who has been hunting pigs with his dad Ed, for longer than most mid - 20 year olds have known how to ride a bike. When most of his school friends went home and played video games or watched tv, I am pretty sure Logan was out with his dad, scouting for game or helping out with whatever clients happened to shoot that day.

The family ranch we were hunting was just inside the edge of Monterey County. We were eye witness to old farm structures and machinery used at one time to plant and harvest grain across the hill tops and in the valleys along the creek beds. I have been fortunate enough to stand on many different ranches in California.

Everyone gives you a visual history of a time when the land was hard to work but success was had for those who did, evidence of the tractors and infrastructure that has accumulated over many years.

Our trip was a success in so many ways. Nikita cleanly shot a wild boar with single precision. His many afternoons of shooting targets and getting comfortable with my .270 at our farm was rewarded.

My oldest son Sasha, also was able to take part in the eradication of the endless war that all farmers and ranchers face with ground squirrels. We got a first hand tour of the beautiful and iconic topography of a cattle ranch that operates in harmony with wild game. We will also be able to enjoy a family meal soon with the meat that was harvested, and we were able to experience a way of life and connect with Logan and his dad Ed, that few people get a glimpse into. In the end, my boys experienced “my California”, and for that I am very grateful.

See you in the field, Randy

Moe, Saddle Maker

I first met Moe four years ago. It was purely out of curiosity, not because I needed or even wanted a saddle. The directions to get to his shop came from Carlon the gentleman we purchased our farm from. Carlon was Moe’s brother, and the directions were a little fuzzy. He didn’t have his address. Just go back down the road here a little ways and you will see a pond. His house is yellow up on the hill on the right side with a gravel driveway, he has a brown pick up truck parked in back. Well the problem was that there were several small ponds and gravel driveways down the road, along with multiple houses that looked off white or tan. None really seemed to be yellow in my opinion. After passing a few and turning around for another look, I was pretty sure I had found the right place.

I pulled up to a house with a small shop in the back. There were no signs saying open or names indicating this was a business. I knocked on the door and heard a muffled come on in. I was in the right place. The rich smell of leather greets you as soon as the door begins to open. I introduced myself while looking around his shop at a multitude of saddles, workbenches, tools and old industrial looking machinery that was still very much in use. Moe was easy to talk to and happy to answer all of my questions that seemed to build on one another.

He started making saddles when he had just turned 17. For the next 11 years he worked at the same saddle facility in Chattanooga. Another opportunity came along at another shop that he took for a couple of years before deciding it was time to go home. Home is his shop where he is standing now for the last 54 years.

I have been in a couple of saddle shops over the years. They usually have a saddle in progress that they are working on and maybe a finished one sitting on display. Not here, there were multiple saddles lined up in different stages of completion, a multitude of saddle trees were stacked four and five high on the floor and under benches.

Listen to our podcast where we break down our time with Mo:

Full Podcast Here

I could see another room in the back with stacks of leather hides. The odd thing was though, there weren’t any other workers. Moe, do you have anyone here working with you? “I did a few years back, a husband and wife. They didn’t seem to want to work very hard and they liked to be on their phones a lot. I just told them it was probably best if they went home.”

Moe, on his own mind you, works on at least ten saddles at a time and ships out four to five every week to his different customers. He has his own version of a production line. Each saddle has certain stages and as he waits on one for the glue to dry on the tree or the tooling to be finished, he moves to the next one in line. It’s a system that obviously works well. Seeing the work that is accomplished, my next question seemed obvious, what time do you start working every day? Oh about 4am was his casual reply. He use to start at 3 but over the last year slept has decided to sleep in a little. Why did you start at 3? He quickly answered me with what seemed to him obvious, “to get more work done”.

He is kind and patient in proceeding to walk me around his shop showing me the different machines and what they each do and how he uses them. He grabs a piece of scrap leather and runs it through the skiver and then grabs another piece to show me how his 100 year old industrial sized sewing machine easily pierces thick leather to sew the pieces together. Seeing all of the tools I am bold in asking him my next question. Would you ever let me come up and make a belt. He didn’t hesitate with his answer of “of course, you can come anytime”. I take off my heavy well constructed belt purchased many years ago from Holland and Holland. I told him that I would want to make something like this. He examined it and didn’t think it would be too difficult. He showed me some thick leather hides that he thought would work. We decide on a weight and he agrees to order a darkened 13 ounce hide for my project. Over the months I would stop in from time to time just to say hi and see how he was doing. Occasionally I would need something sewn like a leather field stool that he happily worked with me on or to repair the edge of rawhide horn on my old saddle I had as a kid. He even made a custom roping saddle for my brother who team ropes out in California.

I am thankful for people like Moe who take pride in their work and enjoyment in using their hands to craft products that people need and use. The art of saddle making is definitely a dying profession but maybe in some small way I can continue on with a small piece of it in making a belt every now and again. Oh, and we did make a couple of belts together last month and I have worn it everyday since. I hope you enjoy the short film we produced that captures just a small part of what Moe does every day for the past 67 years at the young age of 84.

Listen to our podcast here, where we break down our time with Moe:

Full Podcast Here

See you in the field, Randy

For me there is something magical about the imagery of wild game during the holiday season. As a young boy the thought of going out and hunting for your meal seemed to be the pinnacle of holiday tradition. In today’s world of grocery stores and online shopping, convenience has become the cornerstone of our traditional meals. There is nothing inherently wrong with buying your “bird” from from the store. Our family has purchased many of our meals this way and most people do not have any other option than buying from a grocery store. Farmer’s markets have bridged that gap in some ways, making it easier to purchase a small farm raised bird rather than one from the mass production facilities.

We received this holiday catalogue from Dean and Deluca, a very nice store “grocery store” we had visited in New York, quite a few years ago.

This particular image has always stuck with me from the first time saw it when the holidays arrive. The photography inside their catalog conveyed warm and festive meals, offering traditional hams and turkeys to the non-traditional such as venison, quail and yes pheasant.

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Even the last courses of the day, reserved for pies and cheese boards had a distinct ruggedness, fit for a meal of with game meat.

In my opinion, nothing would be better than a meal at this level.

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I had never heard of the term “killing season” until a few years ago when an older gentleman who worked on our farm mentioned it. He was discussing it in the context of his elementary school years when the school principal came to their house one day to chastise his uncle for having his cousins and himself out of school for the past week. His uncle was quick to tell the principal it was killing season. Their help was necessary and more important than school at that moment. He then ran the principal off the property.

We just attended a workshop with Brandon Sheard of Farmstead Meatsmith at White Oak Pastures in Bluffton, Georgia over the weekend. We were definitely in the rural South and the term “killing season” came up again.

The farm butchering phrase “killing season” has older, deeply practical agricultural origins. It is not a modern term as it comes from the times of pre-refrigeration rural life in Europe and North America.

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Origins of “Killing Season” in Farm and Rural Culture

A Pre-Refrigeration Necessity (1700s–early 1900s)

It was there on a shelf that I spotted a simple small wooden box. It was what it contained inside that really peaked my interest.

Before refrigeration became widespread (late 1800s–mid-1900s depending on region), farms had to slaughter livestock only when weather conditions naturally preserved the meat.

That window was cold enough to cool and firm the carcass, but not freezing hard enough to damage it and it was understood as the killing season.

Ideal Conditions

• Daytime temps: 35–45°F

• Cold nights to prevent spoilage

• Dry air to allow initial drying, forming the “rind”. This was especially important in areas like the South where humid conditions were common and could easily spoil uncured meat.

• Low fly activity.

This was typically late fall through early winter.

Thus, “killing season” evolved as the annual period when families, farms, and villages got together and all participated in the essential slaughter of animals for the coming year.

The photo above says it all.

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Some might say that you do not need a gun cleaning kit such that are well organized in a nicely made wooden box with each item tucked into its specific place. I would agree, you do not need to go to that level. The components for cleaning your gun can be very simple, consisting of a few well chosen items. Some quality cleaning agents and rust preventative along with a bore snake and a soft rag will do an adequate job.

I will argue though that there is a nice alternative that can be quite enjoyable even when not cleaning your guns. The first time I saw a well organized cleaning kit in a nicely constructed wooden box was in William Evans on St. James’s St. The small shop already had a bit of magical hunting lore for me when I first noticed the store across a busy street in London.

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I had not heard of William Evans but their window displays were telling of what they were all about. As I walked through the door, the time honored traditions of shooting was alive and well.

It was there on a shelf that I spotted a simple small wooden box. It was what it contained inside that really peaked my interest.

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The mudroom is one of the most important rooms in a country house in my opinion. It sets a very emphatic tone for the what is held in high regard including what the land around the house is used for. The mudroom was first known as the boot room in the grand English country estates of the Victorian Era. Their purpose was straightforward, a stopgap for wet coats and muddy boots to be removed and hung up to dry before entering the main house. It is also a place where guns can be cleaned and stored and even the dogs could find a warm dry place to lie down and rest after a full day of fun.

We have recently completed our own mudroom at the Old Swede House, complete with a wood stove, stone floors, gun cleaning table and plenty of space to hang jackets and store boots.

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As I mentioned above, the earliest version of the mudroom emerged on large Victorian sporting estates—in places like Norfolk, Yorkshire, and the Scottish Borders—where shooting, stalking, and fishing were central to sporting way of life. Large estate houses such as Sandringham, Balmoral, and Holkham Hall were designed with secondary entrances specifically for outdoor pursuits.

These entrances were used by gamekeepers, ghillies, and shooting guests, providing space to remove muddy boots, hang coats, and unload firearms before entering the main house.

The floor was typically flagstone or quarry tile, easily mopped clean of peat and clay, and walls were lined with tongue-and-groove paneling or painted brick for durability.

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I have quite a few cigar cutters. Some are very basic and utilitarian, the only thought I have about them is when I use it to achieve a clean cut on my cigar.

Some cutters are as simple as this one above, while others are a little more artistic and thoughtful. I appreciate the consideration and craftsmanship that went into making them. A well-crafted cigar cutter can add to the allure and ambience of the room, just like a unique ashtray.

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Cigars first became fashionable in Europe in the late 18th century, after returning soldiers from the Peninsular Wars (1807–1814) brought the habit back from Spain. Early cigars were often hand-rolled and closed at the head with a natural tobacco leaf “cap.” That “cap” requires the end of the cigar to be cut off. In times of lacking access to even the cheapest cutter, I have resorted to using a knife from the kitchen. I hate to admit it but I have even used …

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The leather cartridge belt is starting to be more commonly seen across driven shoots throughout the UK and it’s counterparts. It seems to be coming back in fashion over the recent years. While the cartridge bag is a staple at many pegs, a full cartridge belt gives that added insurance for the moment you realize you’ve just run out of shells.

Most belts contain 25 loops for full box of shotgun shells to be carried around ones waist. Several companies are still making high quality belts by hand. A few of my favorites are Westley Richards, James Purdey and Sons, Holland and Holland and Els & Co., out of South Africa.

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Cartridge belts find their origins dating back to the 16th century when early European musketeers used cross-body bandoliers fitted with small wooden “charges” or bottles holding pre-measured powder charges; the bandolier solved the slow reload problem of matchlocks and early arquebuses (long guns often supported by what we call shooting sticks).

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Hope to see you in the field. Randy

More often than not when I pack for a weekend trip, I always try to bring along a couple of cigars. I used to throw them in a zip lock bag and find a spot in my shaving kit or a side pocket of my Filson bag where they would be somewhat protected. This did not always work out as planned. I sometimes showed up to my destination with cigars in a less than pristine condition. I finally broke down and purchased a leather cigar holder from Purdey. Did I need a fine leather cigar holder from Purdey, no but I did need a cigar holder for travel.

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If you start looking around you can find many styles of the travel cigar holder in leather, wood, metal, etc… The prices can range substantially from different makers like Alfred Dunhill or other London establishments.

In addition to my Purdey case I also have a two cigar holder from the King Ring Collection and a wooden holden by John Rigby. Click the button below to read more and see additional photos.

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