African Outfitter is an independent international bimonthly publication promoting
fair hunting and ethical business practices within the hunting industry.
From a hunting perspective, the preservation of biodiversity on the
African continent is the first and foremost priority. The emphasis
is however also on the sustainable utilisation of wildlife.
MR NEEDHAM'S NAME, MR GREENER'S GUN - Johan van Wyk
I shouldered the gun and snapped the action a few times on the snap-caps to get a feeling for the triggers. The stock, made from very straight-grained walnut, was as slim and elegant as only the English can make them and had the tell-tale reddish alkanet root colour associated with a traditional London hand-rubbed oil finish. The longer I handled the old gun, the more I felt my heart melt and as Andrew mentioned the price I could think of only one thing to say: "I'll take it!"
The most agonizing part (to me, at least!) of acquiring a new firearm is the wait for the licence. During this time, I did a bit of reading and enquiring in an attempt to find out who JV Needham was and the result was unexpected, to say the least. Joseph (JV) Needham had been a Birmingham gunmaker who opened up his own business during the first half of the 1800s. In 1874, in a fit of wonderful foresight, he patented the first ejector system for shotguns to be manufactured in England. This grabbed the attention of a number of people in the English gunmaking world who reacted to Needham's invention in one of two ways: they either designed ejector systems of their own or they attempted to buy Joseph Needham's patent.
The successful bidder for Needham's business was none other than William Wellington Greener, already a famous and respected gunmaker and author in 1874, the year in which he acquired Needham's business and, along with it, the patent for his novel ejector system. As Needham was a respected gunmaker with a well-established business and a long list of clients, WW decided to keep the name going and he continued to sell guns under the Needham name, but now made in Greener's factory situated in Loveday Street in Birmingham. The then owners of the Greener gunmaking business chose not to resurrect the Needham name after World War II and the last shotgun to bear the Needham name, a single gun with serial number 14071, was sold in 1941.
According to Appendix E in Graham Greener's excellent book about the history of the Greener family and their guns (The Greener Story, Safari Press, 2000) my gun was the very first one made under Needham's name in the year of 1935 and its very serial number is recorded as such!
Interestingly, Greener used Needham's original design for an ejector system as the basis of the ejector system for his own Facile Princeps (translated as "Easily Superior") boxlock ejector guns. The ejector system on my gun, however, is of the Southgate type, invented by English gunmaker Thomas Southgate in the 1880s and today the most copied ejector system among the remaining English and Spanish makers of superior-quality double guns. The action, complete with the characteristic Greener crossbolt, is a standard Anson & Deeley boxlock, the first of which was made and patented in 1875 by another well-known English maker, Westley Richards. Over the years, Greener made thousands of A&D-pattern boxlocks under licence from Westley Richards in various grades, in addition to the many guns made on actions of its own design. Thus, in retrospect, my gun is a perfect example of the way in which the best of the English gunmaking trade of yesteryear sometimes come together in a single piece.
After discovering my shotgun's ancestry, the only thing left to do was to find out how it shot. Andrew was kind enough to invite me along on a pigeon shoot during the time I spent waiting for the wheels of bureaucracy to make their slow turn and digest my licence application, so I was able to satisfy the worst of my urges to take the old gun afield again. But the real test, I reckoned, would come only after I had taken the gun in search of more interesting quarry: ducks and francolin, the latter with the help of pointing dogs. And so it was that I found myself in the company of our noble Editor next to a lovely stretch of water on a freezing winter's morning not too long ago …
During the night, I snapped awake a number of times from the noise of the wind as it howled outside the renovated 140-year old sandstone cottage we slept in. We awoke the next morning to find the whole area covered in a thick blanket of mist and the breeze cold enough to slice through three layers of warm clothing with impunity. We arrived at the water early enough to see the sun rise over the mountains to the east and as we slogged into position it struck me that, in spite of my own discomfort, the weather was actually just perfect. I mean, how much more English can it possibly get on the Mpumalanga highveld! I swung the old gun's action shut on a pair of No 5s and awaited the morning's first flight. We did not have long to wait!
There were three of them, flying low and fast about 30 metres/27 yards out. As I mounted the gun the safety slipped forward under my gloved thumb and I swung the barrels ever faster to catch up with the speeding ducks. The bead went past the first one, then the second, and when it was about two metres/1,8 yards in front of the leading bird the right barrel seemed to fire itself. The duck did a somersault and collapsed into the shallows with a satisfying splash. Perfect! After the dog had retrieved the bird I realised why it had flown at such a breakneck speed – it wasn't a yellowbill as I had thought but a Cape shoveller (Anas smithii), a medium-sized duck about the size of a yellowbill but much faster flying. In fact, it is considered by some authorities to be SA's fastest-flying duck. In the early morning gloom, I had mistaken it for a yellowbill, and indeed from a distance the two look very similar. In spite of the case of mistaken identity I was quite chuffed with the shot; it had been fast and far and the old gun had come through with flying colours.
A few hours later, we found ourselves following a very excited pointer with her nose in a clump of grass and her tail locked into solid point. I swung the action shut and gave a step forward. That did it! The three Swainson's francolin erupted from the small patch of grass like the three little pocket rockets they were. The first bird, going straight away, dropped in a puff of feathers as I fired the right barrel and the second, just starting a 5G turn to the left, dropped to the ground as I tracked ahead of him and slapped the rear trigger. A perfect double, perfectly retrieved a few moments later!
Back at the lodge later that evening, I spent a few moments rubbing the old gun down as a precaution against the day's wet conditions. As I slipped the old gun back into its bag, I realised yet again why old English guns were so special. They represent the highest development of the shotgun as far as I am concerned, perfectly suited for the purpose their makers intended them to be used for: hunting game birds. I have no idea for whom my Needham shotgun was made, but he was clearly a man who appreciated the elegant lines and superb balance of a well-made game gun. For his foresight in ordering the gun and looking after it as well as he did I can only thank him and assure him that I will treasure it as well as he did. The old gun is home again.
