CrackStock
69 Cal.
- Joined
- Dec 23, 2004
- Messages
- 3,017
- Reaction score
- 9
Well, I got invited to hunt up in the hill country of South Carolina. Our friend, SlippyFoot took pity on this poor swampland hunter so I could see how those rich people up in the hills hunt. Jake, his world famous bird dog was quite enthusiastic about my arrival. I think that he thought I was dinner for a while, but we got to be friends later.
This fellow has a range in the back yard and it is not just off of the porch! The sheriff did not even stop by to give us complaints from neighbors! I am jealous.
Then there was the hunting land. I have to admit that it is nice not being knee deep in mud and there were no mosquitoes! I brought along my flint rifle and my flint smoothbore so I would have both needs covered, but he even had a percussion gun! It was nice, but these things will never catch on.
(I wonder where he will get those fancy caps when they quit making them for lack of interest?) :grin:
We did some scouting on the first day and found a great collection of scrapes and picked 2 locations to hunt in the morning.
We had a good meal thanks to Mrs Slippy and a dram or two of corn squeezings. All quite satisfying.
In the morning, we went back to the woods and set up for the hunt. I saw where the trail led from briars to the scrape that I wanted to hunt and placed my back to the trail so I would be hidden by the tree that I leaned against and would be shooting in a natural position as the buck approached the scrape. It was a beautiful day and quite comfortable. I was enjoying watching the squirrels playing in my tree and listening to the crows in the pines. There were some turkeys back toward Slippy which I am sure he enjoyed since he is a big fan of hunting turkeys.
Then I heard the echoes of movement that seem to happen when a deer is approaching. I had set up on a scrape and was in perfect position.
Well he didn't play fair and stepped out on the wrong side. Quite a beautiful animal and close, but no hope of repositioning to get onto him.
The wind kicks up and I see no more deer today.I figured that I'd just set up for him again in the morning. Just get on the left side then.
Another night of good food and great company. This time we sample some cane liquor from the big island south of Miami.
Another morning and another beautiful day in the woods. I set up in the same spot and figure that I will adjust my place to get that buck. I hear the same sound and just as the wind shifts right to that trail a big doe jumps out of the briars
gathers at the edge of the trail and jumps deep into the pines on my side and prances off to a ravine. She clearly smelled me thanks to the wind shift.
I am encouraged by this confirmation that this is an active trail. An hour passes and a light rain is falling. I tuck my lock under my armpit where it is covered by my matchcoat. I suddenly see a young buck step into view near the scrape.
Naturally he is on the wrong side. (Slippy must be giving away my plans!) I slowly bring the gun over and he hears something, but looks down the trail. I set up on him with my smooth bore. I aim and pull the trigger. There is a flash and hangfire, but it does go off. I see him racing off to my right. He is waving his tail, not limping and his back is straight. He did
not alter his direction at all. I guess he did what bow hunters call "jumping the string." I would do the same if a big flash went off near me. I scurry over to the location where the shot went, but no him of blood. No hair or other sign.
I wait a half hour and try to track him anyway, but after exhaustive effort, I find nothing. I hear a shot in Slippy's direction.
I pack up and soon see Slippy heading toward me. He asks if I shot and I admit that I did. I show him the location and he finds where my rounds hit the dirt. It plowed at least 4 inches into hard packed trail. A bit much for a ball to do if it had gone through a deer. The good news is that I missed and the bad news is that I missed. :hmm:
On the other hand, the cap gun won the day because Slippy had brought down and fine buck and meat was needing to be processed. Slippy's brother has a house nearby and helped get the deer out where we skinned and quartered it.
Slippy took pity on me and insisted that I take the meat home after leaving some for his brother's efforts.
I then loaded up my pair of flintlocks so everyone could make some smoke as long as the powder held out. Ole Slippy demonstrated how he got that deer by drilling an old oil filter with a .600 ball shot from my Jackie Brown smoothbore and he repeated that fine performance with
a shot 2 inches higher from my TVM early Lancaster.
(I think that Slippy might have been bitten by the flint bug. It will be a good thing if he gets one so he has something to shoot when those cussin caps go out of style. On the other hand, the cap gun won the day today.)
Seriously, I had a great time with our brother member and thank Slippy, Mrs Slippy and Slippy's brother for their hospitality.
CS
This fellow has a range in the back yard and it is not just off of the porch! The sheriff did not even stop by to give us complaints from neighbors! I am jealous.
Then there was the hunting land. I have to admit that it is nice not being knee deep in mud and there were no mosquitoes! I brought along my flint rifle and my flint smoothbore so I would have both needs covered, but he even had a percussion gun! It was nice, but these things will never catch on.
(I wonder where he will get those fancy caps when they quit making them for lack of interest?) :grin:
We did some scouting on the first day and found a great collection of scrapes and picked 2 locations to hunt in the morning.
We had a good meal thanks to Mrs Slippy and a dram or two of corn squeezings. All quite satisfying.
In the morning, we went back to the woods and set up for the hunt. I saw where the trail led from briars to the scrape that I wanted to hunt and placed my back to the trail so I would be hidden by the tree that I leaned against and would be shooting in a natural position as the buck approached the scrape. It was a beautiful day and quite comfortable. I was enjoying watching the squirrels playing in my tree and listening to the crows in the pines. There were some turkeys back toward Slippy which I am sure he enjoyed since he is a big fan of hunting turkeys.
Then I heard the echoes of movement that seem to happen when a deer is approaching. I had set up on a scrape and was in perfect position.
Well he didn't play fair and stepped out on the wrong side. Quite a beautiful animal and close, but no hope of repositioning to get onto him.
The wind kicks up and I see no more deer today.I figured that I'd just set up for him again in the morning. Just get on the left side then.
Another night of good food and great company. This time we sample some cane liquor from the big island south of Miami.
Another morning and another beautiful day in the woods. I set up in the same spot and figure that I will adjust my place to get that buck. I hear the same sound and just as the wind shifts right to that trail a big doe jumps out of the briars
gathers at the edge of the trail and jumps deep into the pines on my side and prances off to a ravine. She clearly smelled me thanks to the wind shift.
I am encouraged by this confirmation that this is an active trail. An hour passes and a light rain is falling. I tuck my lock under my armpit where it is covered by my matchcoat. I suddenly see a young buck step into view near the scrape.
Naturally he is on the wrong side. (Slippy must be giving away my plans!) I slowly bring the gun over and he hears something, but looks down the trail. I set up on him with my smooth bore. I aim and pull the trigger. There is a flash and hangfire, but it does go off. I see him racing off to my right. He is waving his tail, not limping and his back is straight. He did
not alter his direction at all. I guess he did what bow hunters call "jumping the string." I would do the same if a big flash went off near me. I scurry over to the location where the shot went, but no him of blood. No hair or other sign.
I wait a half hour and try to track him anyway, but after exhaustive effort, I find nothing. I hear a shot in Slippy's direction.
I pack up and soon see Slippy heading toward me. He asks if I shot and I admit that I did. I show him the location and he finds where my rounds hit the dirt. It plowed at least 4 inches into hard packed trail. A bit much for a ball to do if it had gone through a deer. The good news is that I missed and the bad news is that I missed. :hmm:
On the other hand, the cap gun won the day because Slippy had brought down and fine buck and meat was needing to be processed. Slippy's brother has a house nearby and helped get the deer out where we skinned and quartered it.
Slippy took pity on me and insisted that I take the meat home after leaving some for his brother's efforts.
I then loaded up my pair of flintlocks so everyone could make some smoke as long as the powder held out. Ole Slippy demonstrated how he got that deer by drilling an old oil filter with a .600 ball shot from my Jackie Brown smoothbore and he repeated that fine performance with
a shot 2 inches higher from my TVM early Lancaster.
(I think that Slippy might have been bitten by the flint bug. It will be a good thing if he gets one so he has something to shoot when those cussin caps go out of style. On the other hand, the cap gun won the day today.)
Seriously, I had a great time with our brother member and thank Slippy, Mrs Slippy and Slippy's brother for their hospitality.
CS
