For centuries, hunting was a basic necessity for survival. It was simple: Unsuccessful hunters didn’t eat as well as those who regularly brought home meat. Improvements in tools raised success levels and the quality of life, so hunting was usually done with the best and most efficient implements available. As our species became more civilized, learning agriculture and domesticating animals, hunting evolved from a necessity to a sport in much of the world.
Many of today’s hunters still seek out and use the highest-tech hardware available, like magnum rifles with extremely flat trajectories and scopes with powerful magnification. But there is a growing faction of hunters who emphasize the “sport” aspect by returning to more primitive, less efficient means like bows and blackpowder rifles. Interestingly, history seems to be repeating itself within this group, as some of these hunters prefer to wield the latest bolt-action muzzleloader or compound bow.
Enter the modern handgun hunter for whom there appears to be little historical reference. In fact, throughout the history of firearms, the handgun was considered a last-minute defensive tool unsuitable for hunting. Even when Sam Colt created the Patterson revolver in the 1830s, it was not envisioned as a hunting arm. No doubt, at some point on the frontier, particularly as the more powerful Colt Walkers and Dragoons made an appearance, some cowboy somewhere used his handgun to pop some dinner meat, but I suspect this was more the result of an opportune moment than a planned and deliberate hunt.
In the late 1930s, following the introduction of the .357 Mag., Doug Wesson of Smith & Wesson did a great deal of promotional work using the new revolver for hunting big game to show its potential. It can be argued some of the animals taken were realistically beyond the capabilities of the cartridge, but keep in mind it was a promotional campaign. In these kinds of endeavors, we sometimes exceed what’s prudent in order to make a point.
Following the introduction of the .44 Magnum in 1956, a lot of big names went big-game hunting with this new king of the big-bore handguns. One of these was Bob Petersen, who founded a magazine dynasty. The subsequent story and pictures of his Alaska brown bear hunt (in 1964, I believe) with a S&W Model 29 did more to fire me up on handgun hunting than any other single event. Among the other trophies Petersen took with his Model 29 was a 1,500-pound polar bear, which now resides, along with the gun, in the lobby of NRA headquarters in Fairfax, Va., and is part of the NRA National Firearms Museum’s Robert E. Petersen Gallery.
The XP Factor
For ambidextrous capability, the new pistol—nicknamed the “Fireball” for its chambering—had a symmetrical plastic stock that gave the shooter a thumb rest regardless of whether he shot right- or left-handed. The XP-100’s bolt was doglegged in shape because Remington had found a straight bolt would hit the shooter’s wrist during recoil. Remington also put a plastic rib on the barrel, mainly because the ribbed look was popular on pistols at that time. The rib was mounted to studs that supported the sights, but it floated between these two anchor points. While the factory sights were marginally adjustable to appease shooters who chose not to mount a scope, Remington felt strongly that handgunners would use optics to take advantage of the XP-100’s enhanced performance.
It would be slightly erroneous to say the Fireball took the shooting world by storm. Back in the ’60s, shooters were quite conservative, and the innovations on Remington’s pistol were more than many could digest. For openers, just about everyone agreed the XP-100 was probably the ugliest handgun to ever appear on the planet—even those who acknowledged that it could shoot groups smaller than any other handgun ever seen. It was a bolt-action pistol, something entirely unheard of, and its bolt had a funny shape to boot. Plus it had a plastic stock with this incredible club for a handle. Under sustained firing, some of the stocks warped dramatically and ended up looking like a strange boomerang.
However, when topped with a pistol scope, even one of the rather crude models available then, the Fireball could take rabbit-size game beyond 100 yards. With the advent of Leupold’s 2X handgun scope having long eye relief, the XP-100 could pop prairie dogs and similar critters out past 200 yards in the hands of really good shooters. If you chose to use the factory sights, who cared that they were difficult to adjust? With a muzzle velocity of 2600 fps, there was no need to fiddle with your zero for any varmint within reasonable range. Remington didn’t get rich off the Fireball, but the company kept the gun in production through the ’60s and early ’70s, when handgun silhouette shooters discovered it. More on that later.
I reluctantly admit that I was one of those dedicated Renaissance revolver men who looked at the XP-100 and stuck my finger down my throat to clear my pallet. While I was doing that, some really smart, clear-thinking handgunners took the Fireball afield and enjoyed incredible long-range small-game hunting. A few, like Phil Briggs, who pioneered handgun hunting in Arizona, even customized early Fireballs and rebarreled them with bigger bores for big-game season. It was Phil who introduced me to the XP-100, helping me put many a tasty cottontail into my Dutch oven.
Truly unique in design, the Hawkeye looked like a single-action revolver. It had the plow-handle grip, a topstrap-covered frame that housed what appeared to be a cylinder, an 81/2-inch barrel, and the same rugged, adjustable sights that were on the Blackhawk. In fact, the Hawkeye was a Blackhawk revolver, but in place of the cylinder was a block of metal that manually rotated a few degrees to expose the breech so that a single round of ammunition could be inserted directly into the chamber. It was basically a miniature artillery-type breechblock system. After a cartridge was chambered, the rotating breechblock swung back into place and locked behind the loaded round. Until the breechblock was locked into firing position, the hammer could not be cocked nor the trigger pulled. The Hawkeye was only produced through 1964, at which point Ruger had enough guns in inventory to fill the sporadic orders received through the early ’70s.
I don’t remember seeing a Hawkeye until several years after it went out of production.
Aesthetically, I much preferred it to the Fireball, but that was primarily due to its close resemblance to a revolver. At the time I was doing a fair amount of handgun hunting for rabbits, and while the Hawkeye would have been a great gun for that, I was totally preoccupied with cast bullets in .357 and .44 revolvers. By the late ’70s, when I finally developed an interest in single-shot handguns and acquired a Fireball, the Hawkeye had climbed to collector prices. My handgun budget didn’t contain sufficient funding to pick up one of the little Rugers.
A Return to the Range