An excerpt from my grandfather’s memoirs:
”My father owned an 1886 45/90 rifle and during the noon hour he would see how many ground dogs he could hit as they sat up by their hole. When he hit one it would turn them wrong side out and all you could find was small pieces. Sometimes I would pack water from the spring and force them out of their hole then hit them with a club; they could not run as they were too soaked.”
When my grandfather was alive, I remember him telling me about the indians admiring that rifle “it throw heap big rock” is what they would say. GGfather was a miner, farmer, laborer, rancher and whatever else he could do to eke out a living in Southern Utah.
Last edited by Ben_Lurkin; 02/21/20.
