Wenn ein "altes Eisen" wieder mit auf die Jagd geht

Waffendoc Gregor Unterberger is a master when it comes to bringing old hunting rifles back to life—restoring them to a glow they haven’t seen in decades.

The air smells of oil, wood dust, and fine metal shavings. In the workshop of Gregor Unterberger—master gunsmith, known to most simply as the “Waffendoc”—time moves a little differently. Between vises, worn stocks, and modern scopes lie hunting stories written in steel.

“You know what happens when a young hunter finds his grandfather’s old rifle at home?” Gregor asks, running his fingers almost instinctively across a blued receiver. “Most think the thing is worthless—and mathematically that’s true. But in terms of meaning? It’s priceless.”

The quiet value of old rifles

In today’s hunting world, new rifles are bought like smartphones: serial numbers instead of soul, neon instead of nuance. And yet—in so many homes there’s an old gun tucked away somewhere, a piece of family hunting history that says more about its owners than any family tree ever could.

Often these rifles have spent decades in a cabinet. Passed from father to son, hunted with by grandfathers and great-grandfathers, then handed to the new hunter who now steps into the field with modern glass and modern expectations. “And that,” Gregor says, “is where my work begins.”

Craftsmanship agains forgetting

With the Fortis, Leica launched a modern, high-gloss riflescope that pairs beautifully with old hunting rifles.

“Most used guns are worth zero on today’s market,” Gregor says matter-of-factly. “But that’s exactly where real value begins. Because I’m doing what almost no one does anymore: I’m giving these old rifles a second life.”

The process takes weeks—sometimes months. Cracks in the wood are opened, stabilized, refined. Worn parts replaced. Bluing renewed. Barrel and action tested, a new scope fitted. And throughout, the gunsmith needs that delicate sense for balance between then and now.

Because not every vintage rifle can wear a modern 56 mm optic with ballistic turrets. “You need a feel for it,” Gregor says. “Almost like an artist.” Some barrels can only handle small, fine scopes. Some stocks demand classic lines. Some rifles beg for a new caliber, others for an insert barrel to keep a nostalgic style of hunting alive.

The result? A hunting rifle that is not only mechanically sound—but ready to take the field again.

Carrying a piece of hunting history is something truly special.

When men come back with tears in their eyes

“It happens often,” the Waffendoc says. “After I finish a restoration, people come back. And when I place that old rifle in their hands, some suddenly tear up. Not because the gun looks beautiful again—but because the memories become tangible. Because, in that moment, they’re holding their father’s, their grandfather’s, even their great-grandfather’s rifle—and now they can carry it into the next decades.”

Most of these rifles come from the 1960s or ’70s—bought by hunters who had little, but had one thing in abundance: pride. They saved for months, engraved initials, chose stock blanks like they were selecting an engagement ring. And now? Those pieces are becoming part of a new hunting life.

Waffendoc Gregor Unterberger in his atelier in the Carinthian Drautal.

A tradition you don't just see - you feel it

Some stories begin even earlier: old break-action rifles or hammer guns from the 1920s. Calibers few hunters today even recognize. Barrels that read like stories from another century. “You can fit insert barrels, mount small fixed-power scopes—and suddenly a museum piece becomes a fine rifle for marmot or capercaillie hunting. And that’s hunting as it used to be. Something you rarely experience today. Something that returns—just for a moment—through these old rifles.”

A modern plastic-stocked rifle may be practical. But it carries nothing personal. No history. No hand that once passed it down. No grandfather saying, ‘Take care of this rifle, son.’

In Gregor’s workshop you learn one truth: rifles age like people. Some gracefully. Some with scars. Some with cracks. But all can stand tall again—if someone understands them. And anyone who hunts with such a restored rifle moves differently. More thoughtfully. More quietly. More gratefully.

“The joy is threefold,” Gregor says. “Because every hunt with a restored rifle continues a story.”

And maybe that is the real value of the hunt itself: not the newest scope, not the perfect shot—but preserving what came before us.