Gun Digest 2011. Dan Shideler

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      The case for TR’s .450/.500 double, showing all supplied accessories.

       Walking lightly and with every sense keyed up, we at last reached the bush, and I pushed forward the safety of the double-barreled Holland rifle which I was now to use for the first time on big game. As I stepped to one side of the bush…the rhino saw me and jumped to his feet with the agility of a polo pony. As he rose I put in the right barrel, the bullet going through both lungs. At the same moment he wheeled, the blood spouting from his nostrils, and galloped full on us. Before he could get quite all the way round in his headlong rush to reach us, I struck him with my left-hand barrel, the bullet entering between the neck and shoulder and piercing his heart…Ploughing up the ground with horn and feet, the great bull rhino, still head[ing] towards us, dropped just 13 paces from where we stood. This was a wicked charge, for the rhino meant mischief and came on with the utmost determination…. [T]he vitality of the huge pachyderm was so great, its mere bulk counted for so much, that even such a hard-hitting Rifle as my double Holland – than which I do not believe there exists a better weapon for heavy game – could not stop it outright, although either of the wounds inflicted would have been fatal in a few seconds.

      Of course, the Holland was also used on elephant, occasionally with some assistance:

       …looking over the heads of my companions, I at once made out the elephant…. The leader was the biggest, and at it I fired when it was sixty yards away, and nearly broadside on, but heading slightly toward me. The recoil of the heavy rifle made me rock, as I stood unsteadily on my perch, and I failed to hit the brain. But the bullet, only missing the brain by an inch or two, brought the elephant to its knees; as it rose I floored it with the second barrel…. Reloading, I fired twice at the next animal. It stumbled and nearly fell, but at the same moment the first one rose again, and I fired both barrels into its head, bringing it once more to the ground. Once again it rose – an elephant’s brain is not an easy mark to hit under such conditions – but as it moved slowly off I snatched the little Springfield Rifle and this time shot true, sending the bullet into the brain.

      During the expedition, TR personally killed 13 rhinos, his son Kermit taking another seven. Eleven elephant – eight of them by TR’s hand – fell to his double rifle. Many more animals were killed with this and the other guns in his battery, either for the Museums or as food for the hunting party. The Holland did yeoman service in the taking of thousands of animals over the year-long trip.

      Upon Rosevelt’s return to America, the Smithsonian Institution received almost 800 examples of various African animals, large and small. One of them, a white rhinoceros TR killed at a place called Kilimakiu, is the only one on display today, in the Hall of Mammals. A sign placed next to it identifies its donor. A comparison of the original photo taken at the time of the kill, and the horns of the animal on display, confirms that they are the same beast.

      A hundred years have passed since Roosevelt made his grand safari. The world has changed greatly in the century since: two world wars – the first of which claimed Kermit’s life – have been fought as well as several smaller ones and innumerable regional conflicts. The world of 1909 with its political and economic issues, its imperialist conquests, its good and bad, all of it, has vanished into the mists of the past. Yet the H&H double still is here, a tangible link to that world and its mighty figures.

      This rifle symbolizes in its substance not just a hunt, but the twilight period of the only sort of world in which such a hunt could be made. It is emblematic of the exploitation of Africa and its resources, but as well, of the embryonic environmental conscience of western societies, embodied in the rationale for the hunt itself and the words of its commander. TR’s safari may be considered in some sense the watershed event in the development of modern-day conservation and preservation ethic. The rifle’s true value is therefore as a historical artifact joining today’s hunter/ conservationists with those who came before them, by virtue of its one-time ownership by a major player in the history of America and the world. It is the best-known and best-documented firearm ever made, beyond any conceivable monetary valuation; a unique example of the pinnacle of the gunmaker’s craft, a symbol of a lost era, and a tribute to a man whose legacy lives on still in our game laws.