Daisy The old Daisy 25

THE OLD DAISY 25

In the spring of 1968, a cherished heirloom was passed down to me – a 1934 Daisy 25 BB gun, a symbol of tradition and trust. My grandpa, with his farm weathered hands and tall statue, gave it to me on my ninth birthday. It was more than just a gift; it was a rite of passage, the belief in my growing maturity. The gun, with its stained wood and patina blue metal, felt like a piece of history in my hands, a link to his past and the adventures my grandpa had shared with me in his stories of when he was my age.

The farm was my playground, and with the BB gun in hand, it transformed into a land of endless possibilities. I remember the first time I aimed at an old tin can on top of a fence post, the satisfying 'ping' as the BB found its mark. It wasn't just about hitting the target it was about learning responsibility, understanding the weight of the tool in my hands, as i was taught following him, my dad and brothers hunting. He taught me to respect the land, safety and respecting the power it held. My grandpa watched me from the porch, a silent giant, always there to guide but letting me find my own way.

Days on the farm were long and filled with the kind of fun that didn't require much more than an open field and a curious mind. I'd venture out at dawn, the BB gun in hand, and explore the barn and yard, the woods that bordered our land. And Birds chirped overhead, and I'd wait for them to land. My grandpa had taught us boys. Rats, mice, sparrows, and starlings where the enemies Always have choice words for them. If I were to find one, I'd take careful aim. Hopefully, I hit my mark, and countless small critters were taken with that old 25. I can see why grandpa alway had it leaning in the corner of the barn.

It was a companion on those solitary forays into the feild, a reminder of my grandpa's trust and the lessons he instilled in me.

The BB gun now a part of my own story. Each dent and scratch it indured was a memory, of the joy, of growing up on a southern Idaho farm

20240412_145131~2.jpg
 
I got my first Model 25 in 1958 via my grandfather.
He worked for Baltimore Gas & Electric and did re-cycling as a hobby and for extra cash.
He found the Model 25 in a trash can.
The stock was severely cracked but I fixed that with a roll of electrician’s tape.
I carried that rifle (we all had Model 25s except fr the kid whose family owned the hardware store and funeral home. He had a Bluestreak.) to school every day, to the weekend double feature at the movies, and around the world.
It went Korea three times, Vietnam Nam once, and sent five years in West Berlin.
It finally shot its last BB in 2005.
I bought two of the new ones (one for me and one for my partner in Kansas.)
He kept his.
I sent mind back without firing a shot.
I found an original around 2010 and I shoot it every other month or so.
350 fps:

IMG_0114.jpeg
 
Yes! my first rifle,pump,I shoot so much I could tell where the BBs were going to hit. great for those longer shoots..T I will never forget how hard it was for me to get my father to buy it for me,and there were boondocks nearby, anyhow I never gave up and he finally let me have one.I was 12 years old..The next year my dad bought me a .22 pump. the great Remington model 121..Funny how I had fought to get the Daisy 25, and the next year he bought me the 121 for my birthday,total surprise....Anyhow the Daisy Model 25 started my obsession with "guns", all of them, I still shot BB guns, and now I think back to when I used to fly kites,LOL The ADD MIND.:LOL:
 
That's awesome you still have that rifle, and a great history behind it. I wish I had the Daisy 25 (my first airgun also) which I had traded something for from a friend @ 1972. After that I picked up a Daisy 95 but always like that 25 the most. I actually just started picking up some of my original airguns like the Daisy 95, and 96, need to get another 60s era Daisy Model 25 to replace my long lost one.
 
I bought a couple 25’s off the Daisy website a couple years ago on sale for something like $33 with a can launcher. A lot of fun. I like it more than the Red Ryder. The only thing I don’t like about the rifles is they are not made in America. Just not right and disgust me. Surely they could be made here for not much more. I would have gladly paid more. I think Daisy needs to rethink what they are doing and bring production back home and advertise the heck out of US made Daisys.
 
Really enthusiastic about the Daisy lore just written above. When my brother and I were 11 and 12 my dad got us Western Auto Revalation .22's. Marlin and Winchester, one with a clip and mine with the tubular magazine. Oh what fun it is to have the memories, can busters.
It wasn't till a few years later that we got BB guns, a Daisy 102 and my 1894. All since melted into the past. It's now that I began a Daisy Trek, details to follow.
 
Is is normal for some models of the Daisy Model 25 to have 2 holes in the receiver just above the trigger? What is their function? I noticed some Daisy Model 25s do not have such holes.

 
  • Like
Reactions: Bandito
THE OLD DAISY 25

In the spring of 1968, a cherished heirloom was passed down to me – a 1934 Daisy 25 BB gun, a symbol of tradition and trust. My grandpa, with his farm weathered hands and tall statue, gave it to me on my ninth birthday. It was more than just a gift; it was a rite of passage, the belief in my growing maturity. The gun, with its stained wood and patina blue metal, felt like a piece of history in my hands, a link to his past and the adventures my grandpa had shared with me in his stories of when he was my age.

The farm was my playground, and with the BB gun in hand, it transformed into a land of endless possibilities. I remember the first time I aimed at an old tin can on top of a fence post, the satisfying 'ping' as the BB found its mark. It wasn't just about hitting the target it was about learning responsibility, understanding the weight of the tool in my hands, as i was taught following him, my dad and brothers hunting. He taught me to respect the land, safety and respecting the power it held. My grandpa watched me from the porch, a silent giant, always there to guide but letting me find my own way.

Days on the farm were long and filled with the kind of fun that didn't require much more than an open field and a curious mind. I'd venture out at dawn, the BB gun in hand, and explore the barn and yard, the woods that bordered our land. And Birds chirped overhead, and I'd wait for them to land. My grandpa had taught us boys. Rats, mice, sparrows, and starlings where the enemies Always have choice words for them. If I were to find one, I'd take careful aim. Hopefully, I hit my mark, and countless small critters were taken with that old 25. I can see why grandpa alway had it leaning in the corner of the barn.

It was a companion on those solitary forays into the feild, a reminder of my grandpa's trust and the lessons he instilled in me.

The BB gun now a part of my own story. Each dent and scratch it indured was a memory, of the joy, of growing up on a southern Idaho farm

View attachment 454943
vary similar to me only small town stone roads and vast fields of play time . My "25 " was every gun imaginable "Elliot Ness shotgun " but mostly a " Davy Crocket " flintlock .
 
My model 25 has a very similar story...my grandmother bought it in 1947 to chase squirrels off her bird feeder! Blued steel, "gumwood" stock, and roll-stamped "engraving."

Whenever my kid brother and I visited her house years later, we couldn't wait to grab it and start shooting away in her back yard. It was big fun (and a highly efficient little-kid finger-pinching device, as I recall). Worked its way down to me over the years, and still shoots like a champ.

IMG_5154.jpeg