Everyone has bushel basket of hunting stories that they can share, unless you're very young or don't hunt. I saw no place to tell/post my adventures, so it looks like it will default to here.
There had been a drought in 1986 . . . or maybe it was in 1988, I really don't recall, but no matter. It was hot and dry that summer and carried over into the fall. The area in the Wayne National Forest in southern Ohio was no exception, the primitive weapons season was in, and I was there opening morning with my back to a large burr oak where I waited for the sun to come up.
I was a little up hill (40 yards) from a well used deer trail that crossed a small stream at the bottom. Except for what was behind me, I had a good field of view, about 290-300°.
Even though it was was early morning, it was quite warm for the end of October, and did I mention that it was dry?, so dry in fact, that walking through the woods and on the carpet of leaves, sounded like I was walking on corn flakes.
The time before sunrise always seems to be the coldest, even in the summer, and as warm as it was, there was a cold breeze that came up from the bottom as soon as the eastern sky turner from pink to yellow.
My ears were tuned to the sound of movement on the carpet of dry leaves that surrounded me, except for the twitters of birds, I heard nothing. Birds are always the first to be up and about and then there would be squirrels moving soon. Almost as my thoughts had the power to make it happen, I heard the crunching sound of a squirrel moving through the leaves. It took only a few seconds to locate the squirrel as it set out to locate breakfast for itself.
With in a matter of minutes there were three, and then four squirrels moving about and drawing my attention toward their antics. 15-20 minutes passed while I watched them, until they scurried up the trees and out of sight. I failed to realise for a few seconds what this reaction was and what it was in response to, as I still heard the crunching sound of the squirrels at play.
The sound was behind me, off to my left, about 60 yards away coming down the trail. I did not have to turn and look to know that it was a deer. I could tell by the manner and sound in which it was moving. Slowly and with caution was the sounds of it's movements.
My attention was turned to my rifle after seeing the deer on of the corner of my eyes.
Now, was the hard part of cocking the hammer of my flintlock without making a sound. With the hammer fully back, the next task was to bring the rifle to my shoulder and lineup the sights undetected while the deer still offered a good shot. I shoot left handed and my gun is a right hander. Even under the best of conditions it takes a lot of concentration to shoot and shoot accurately in this manner.
The shot was broadside and slightly quartering away at 40 yards. The buck jumped and kicked out its heels and fell after one more bound.
I stood up and took several steps and started to reload.
Powder, ball, prime is the sequence the runs through my brain after any shot. Dry balls are counterproductive for a follow-up shots, but none was needed here.
While I was examining the deer, I smelled smoke, a lot of smoke. I jumped up and ran back to where I was setting. The fire was spreading fast, too fast to put out by stomping it out. The jacket I wore was light, but it was what was needed to beat the fire out. For a time I thought I was loosing the battle, but, in about 10-15 minutes I had it under control and out.
Another hunter showed just as I was putting out the last of it.
One of the fun times hunting with a muzzleloader.
There had been a drought in 1986 . . . or maybe it was in 1988, I really don't recall, but no matter. It was hot and dry that summer and carried over into the fall. The area in the Wayne National Forest in southern Ohio was no exception, the primitive weapons season was in, and I was there opening morning with my back to a large burr oak where I waited for the sun to come up.
I was a little up hill (40 yards) from a well used deer trail that crossed a small stream at the bottom. Except for what was behind me, I had a good field of view, about 290-300°.
Even though it was was early morning, it was quite warm for the end of October, and did I mention that it was dry?, so dry in fact, that walking through the woods and on the carpet of leaves, sounded like I was walking on corn flakes.
The time before sunrise always seems to be the coldest, even in the summer, and as warm as it was, there was a cold breeze that came up from the bottom as soon as the eastern sky turner from pink to yellow.
My ears were tuned to the sound of movement on the carpet of dry leaves that surrounded me, except for the twitters of birds, I heard nothing. Birds are always the first to be up and about and then there would be squirrels moving soon. Almost as my thoughts had the power to make it happen, I heard the crunching sound of a squirrel moving through the leaves. It took only a few seconds to locate the squirrel as it set out to locate breakfast for itself.
With in a matter of minutes there were three, and then four squirrels moving about and drawing my attention toward their antics. 15-20 minutes passed while I watched them, until they scurried up the trees and out of sight. I failed to realise for a few seconds what this reaction was and what it was in response to, as I still heard the crunching sound of the squirrels at play.
The sound was behind me, off to my left, about 60 yards away coming down the trail. I did not have to turn and look to know that it was a deer. I could tell by the manner and sound in which it was moving. Slowly and with caution was the sounds of it's movements.
My attention was turned to my rifle after seeing the deer on of the corner of my eyes.
Now, was the hard part of cocking the hammer of my flintlock without making a sound. With the hammer fully back, the next task was to bring the rifle to my shoulder and lineup the sights undetected while the deer still offered a good shot. I shoot left handed and my gun is a right hander. Even under the best of conditions it takes a lot of concentration to shoot and shoot accurately in this manner.
The shot was broadside and slightly quartering away at 40 yards. The buck jumped and kicked out its heels and fell after one more bound.
I stood up and took several steps and started to reload.
Powder, ball, prime is the sequence the runs through my brain after any shot. Dry balls are counterproductive for a follow-up shots, but none was needed here.
While I was examining the deer, I smelled smoke, a lot of smoke. I jumped up and ran back to where I was setting. The fire was spreading fast, too fast to put out by stomping it out. The jacket I wore was light, but it was what was needed to beat the fire out. For a time I thought I was loosing the battle, but, in about 10-15 minutes I had it under control and out.
Another hunter showed just as I was putting out the last of it.
One of the fun times hunting with a muzzleloader.
