Favourite muzzleloader kill

[GoodRabbitPilgrim]

I enjoy reading stories and looking at photos of others success. Normally I scroll through pages of threads looking and reading but had the idea I could narrow that down by having one thread where people could put their favourite muzzleloader kill up to share.

Favourite might be your biggest buck or it might be a squirrel you shot with your kid.

Please feel free to share your memories.

 

[fleener]

I built a large stand on electrical poles. It is big enough that you could put several people in it. Walls are 36" tall, makes it very easy to rest a rifle on the edge to shoot from. I built this stand for the sole purpose of getting my son's into deer hunting.

My favorites I think are my boy's first deer.

My oldest was perhaps 7 when he shot his first deer. As we walked up to get the truck to load the doe he simply looked over at me and stated "I am glad you are not a computer nerd, thanks for taking me hunting".

It was the biggest doe I have ever saw, simply a pig. We had the hide tanned. When I went to go pick it up from the tannery, they had all the deer hides in a large pile sorted by size with the smallest on top. The man was looking for our hide and I simply told him it was on the bottom. He just looked at me like he had heard that many times before. It was the last hide on the bottom.

My youngest son is 3 years younger and of coarse he wanted to do everything his older brother did. We were hunting from the large elevated stand again and a nice doe showed up. He made the shot, it ran 75 yards and dropped in the CRP field. I marked the spot.

We looked and looked for that deer. The grass was high enough that we could not find it and I was starting to think I did not see it drop.

It was getting dark so I got the tractor out. The tractor was a Oliver 1750 with no cab. We we elevated on the tractor and I was hoping that I could see it with the lights on as we drove a crisscross pattern in the area that I saw it drop.

I almost turned the mower on simply to show where we had been.

I am very glad that I did not turn the mower on. We felt a big bump from the mower, I turned around to look and we had driven right over the deer, straddling it with the tractor with the legs sticking out behind the mower.

We both were very happy that we found it. On the way home my son stated that he had said a prayer that we would find it and that his prayer was answered.

Fleener

 

[Eric Krewson]

I scouted an area on a local Mgt area, found good deer sign and built a rotten log ground blind looking down the hollow toward the creek bottom.

The Mgt area had 2 day permit hunts about every other week, the hunt I was going on was a M/L hunt. I spent the day before the hunt at the range with my TC practicing shooting in every conceivable position, I got really good.

I was in my blind well before daylight, just at daylight the flashlights started showing up, I waved most of them off when I shined back at them. One guy wasn't turning away and walked right by me and down the hollow.

I was about 50 yards from some private land that had been logged, the tops still had thick green leaves on them because they hadn't been on the ground very long.

Mr. Bozo walked across the fence line trespassing into the private land and sat on a tree top log, the leafy top obscured his view to the creek. He kept looking up the hill at me, smiling and waving as if to say "I have you cut off", I thought did.

About 7:30 I heard splash, splash, splash in the creek and a really nice buck climbed up the bank and turned broadside, he was headed to the treetops in the cutover to bed. He was headed right toward Mr. bozo's tree.

I thought "Mr. Bozo isn't getting that deer", the shot was little longer than I normally would take but I had a good rest and had put in a ton of practice the previous day. My finger tightened on the trigger, BOOM, the black powder smoke rolled momentarily obscuring the buck. When the smoke cleared I could see the buck on the ground taking his last breath, I had dropped him in his tracks.

The buck was only about 30 yards from the leafy top Mr. bozo was sitting in, probably 50 yards from where the guy was sitting, the shot was in a safe direction from the guy, way off to his right.

The guy walked around the tree top, took one look at the buck, said GD and stomped away. Naturally I was doing a little bit of gloating and rubbing it in.

My friend Fred was hunting up the hollow from me, he heard me shoot and came to investigate. He volunteered to help me drag the buck out of the steep hollow to the top of the ridge, I never could have gotten the buck out without him.

I drove out the logging road with my trucks tailgate down to show off my buck, big mistake, the word got out on where I killed it.

I went back to the same place the next day to find my blind had been destroyed and at least 10 hunters crowded in and around that little hollow that wasn't over 150 yards long and 75 yards wide. I hate to say it but a lot of hunters are just plain stupid and just go sit in the woods, they know nothing about deer habits or scouting. The chance of anyone in the crowded hollow actually seeing a deer was less than zero with all the commotion of them entering the hollow.

I took one look and went elsewhere to hunt.

 

[Patocazador]

I was hunting on public land during the 3-day muzzleload season there. I had seen a decent buck for the last two years in the area but never had a chance at him.
After hunting until 11:00, I decided to move my stand to a different spot. Now it was about 12:30 and 88 degrees. I dragged my butt down the dirt road for the 2 mile walk back to my truck when a good buck stepped out 115 yards ahead of me and just watched me trudge. I ducked behind some weeds and stood up slowly. There was no rest possible in the open area so I snugged up the Hawken, pulled the set trigger and aimed just under his jaw. He was facing me dead on and it was the only chance I had.

At the shot he whirled and hauled back into cover. I searched for 45 minutes but could find no blood so I drove home and got my dog and headed back. After a bit Nyssa found the dead buck in a thicket only 60 yards from where it was shot. It was now 3:00 and 92 deg. and the buzzards and crows had already found him and plucked out his eyes. Most of the meat was still good and it was the same buck I had been hunting. He was 4 1/2 years old and had a 16" inside spread with a 20" main beam ... definitely the largest buck I had ever killed in Florida.

 

[Robby]

Probably my first turkey ever. I made some calls, he started gobbling and I had no idea what to do after that so I tried to imagine what a lovelorn hen would sound like. He came out of the woods about a hundred fifty yards across the meadow and spotted my decoys. In no particular hurry he came in and I got him. I stood over him and looked to where he came out of the woods and there was a path through the dew coved flora that you could have snapped a chalk line on, it was that straight. Me, the call, the flintlock performed as we should and I am still amazed when I think about it.

Robby

 

[Sparkitoff]

Not my first, last or biggest muzzleloader animal. I worked with a caplock and a flintlock for a year before hunting with them and even though it worked out I still was not satisfied with the rifle(s). I finally got every thing tweaked the way I wanted it. I was able to take a respectable Pronghorn at 137 yards with the flintlock. Just a few months later I got a Javelina at around 60 yards. Of the dozens of animals those two stand out, mostly because it was a culmination of events leading up to the familiarity with the arm, the reliability and accuracy I worked for, and ultimately the right shot when the right opportunity presented itself. I am also always proud of every turkey I manage to call into ML range and take with a traditional ML.

 

[Rodd Boyer]

Got this NW Missouri buck last fall with my .45 flintlock. My first with a flintlock.

 

[FishnRod]

First elk with a roundball

 

[lonedave]

Bighorn ewe I got in November, 2019 in the Clemans Mountain unit. I managed to get to within about 45 yards of a small group and took this one with my .45 Seneca and home cast maxi-hunter in front of 75gr of Goex 2f. Another fun solo hunt!

 

[hanshi]

All of them were special to me but one hunt does stand out for sentimental reasons if nothing else. It was the last deer hunt in my beloved, native Georgia. About a week before we moved I was out hunting a private farm and had just taken a seat at the top of a ladder stand, several had been set up around the farm. I came in at first light along a barely vehicle worthy farm trail; the truck was parked over 100 yards away in an open area. With the truck parked I walked the rest of the distance along the trail to where the stand was located about 25 yards off the trail in the woods.

Several minutes later I'd mostly settled in and was watching the usual travel routes the deer used in past hunts. I know I hadn't been there 10 minutes when I glanced left and saw a 6 pt. buck standing broadside to me smack dab in the middle of the trail right where I had turned off the trail and entered the woods. I could see him well enough just 25 yards away even though it wasn't full sunlight. I brought up the .45 flintlock and fired. At the shot he turned right heading into the thick brush.

As I normally do when deer hunting I reloaded and settled in once more looking and waiting to see what might still come along. I would often get 2 or 3 deer fairly quickly by staying in place and not getting in a hurry. An hour later I was beginning to think nothing else was going to be coming through and was considering climbing down to look for the 6 pt. That's when the sound alerted me to his presence. Coming in from my right a large 8 pt. buck was walking toward the stand at a 45 degree angle which momentarily would have him quartering directly away from me. The rifle shouldered automatically and fired at nearly the same instant. His speed picked up only slightly but he was weaving and staggering barely staying on his feet. Suddenly he was gone and I heard him crash nearby. It was time to climb down.

After reloading I walked to where the 6 pt. had been standing when I fired; nothing. So I entered the thick brush and soon saw a few drops of red; a few yards farther on there lay the buck. I dragged the buck out to the narrow farm tractor road and walked into the woods on the opposite side in search of the other buck. Whereas only blood "drops" lead to the first one the 8 pt. left a painted trail to follow. On the bushes and trees at waist level and all over the ground was a sight to be seen, gruesome but at the same time reassuring. He had barely made it out of sight. With both bucks in the road I quickly dressed them out. The prb was a through and through on the first buck, but the quartering shot on the second one had the ball traveling a bit farther. The .440" ball was found flattened under the skin just behind the off side shoulder. Even with the home built ramp it was a major, time consuming job to muscle the big guy into the truck bed; the 6 pt. was bad enough but the 8 pt. was exhausting.

 

[R.J.Bruce]

All of them were special to me but one hunt does stand out for sentimental reasons if nothing else. It was the last deer hunt in my beloved, native Georgia. About a week before we moved I was out hunting a private farm and had just taken a seat at the top of a ladder stand, several had been set up around the farm. I came in at first light along a barely vehicle worthy farm trail; the truck was parked over 100 yards away in an open area. With the truck parked I walked the rest of the distance along the trail to where the stand was located about 25 yards off the trail in the woods.

Several minutes later I'd mostly settled in and was watching the usual travel routes the deer used in past hunts. I know I hadn't been there 10 minutes when I glanced left and saw a 6 pt. buck standing broadside to me smack dab in the middle of the trail right where I had turned off the trail and entered the woods. I could see him well enough just 25 yards away even though it wasn't full sunlight. I brought up the .45 flintlock and fired. At the shot he turned right heading into the thick brush.

As I normally do when deer hunting I reloaded and settled in once more looking and waiting to see what might still come along. I would often get 2 or 3 deer fairly quickly by staying in place and not getting in a hurry. An hour later I was beginning to think nothing else was going to be coming through and was considering climbing down to look for the 6 pt. That's when the sound alerted me to his presence. Coming in from my right a large 8 pt. buck was walking toward the stand at a 45 degree angle which momentarily would have him quartering directly away from me. The rifle shouldered automatically and fired at nearly the same instant. His speed picked up only slightly but he was weaving and staggering barely staying on his feet. Suddenly he was gone and I heard him crash nearby. It was time to climb down.

After reloading I walked to where the 6 pt. had been standing when I fired; nothing. So I entered the thick brush and soon saw a few drops of red; a few yards farther on there lay the buck. I dragged the buck out to the narrow farm tractor road and walked into the woods on the opposite side in search of the other buck. Whereas only blood "drops" lead to the first one the 8 pt. left a painted trail to follow. On the bushes and trees at waist level and all over the ground was a sight to be seen, gruesome but at the same time reassuring. He had barely made it out of sight. With both bucks in the road I quickly dressed them out. The prb was a through and through on the first buck, but the quartering shot on the second one had the ball traveling a bit farther. The .440" ball was found flattened under the skin just behind the off side shoulder. Even with the home built ramp it was a major, time consuming job to muscle the big guy into the truck bed; the 6 pt. was bad enough but the 8 pt. was exhausting.

A twofer in just a couple of minutes being in your stand counts as a memorable hunt to me. Especially, as it was your last in Georgia. How are things going in Maine?

 

[hanshi]

A twofer in just a couple of minutes being in your stand counts as a memorable hunt to me. Especially, as it was your last in Georgia. How are things going in Maine?

I just haven't actually been "hunting" since I've been up here. I find it takes lots more effort as I grow older and physical problems tend to increase. I still might get out some but the old fire and endurance has dimmed just a bit. Plus I do worry some about ticks.

 

[ord sgt]

My favorite kill was on Christmas eve. I had to work for a half day. The flintlock was in the truck already. As soon as I left work, it was straight off to the farm where I had permission to hunt. Upon arrival, put on the Carhart jumpsuit and blaze orange, grabbed the rifle and decided to hike up the hill toward the AT&T tower. The road made the climb easier but near the top, I veered off the road and into the tree line. At the crest of the ridge, I stopped to survey the area. Dry leaves crunched under foot. The deer were lying on the south side of the hill, enjoying the sun but they heard the noise of the dry leaves and stood up. One deer presented at great broadside shot. Slowly raised the flint rifle, cocked the hammer, aimed and fired. here was no wind, so the smoke from 80 grains FFFg just hung in front of me. Once I could seethe spot where the deer was, she was gone. Okay, reload and walk to the spot. Some fur was on the ground. Looked at the direction the deer was facing, I saw blood. The further I walked, more blood was seen. Maybe 40 yards from the patch of fur, the deer was on the ground. No motion was observed. One .495 roundball went through both sides.

 

[Ames]

As a deer hunter, it's the same every year. My favorite kill is the next one. 364 days of dreaming about the next one.

 

[tenngun]

I had a Seneca rifle and was squirrel hunting. I was sitting at the base of a white oak in a grove of hickory trees. And I get barked at behind me to the right.
A tree rat was up in the hickory not ten yards away just a barking.
In an award postion I took a shot. He could be no safer. He dashed behind the tree I took to reloading.
I was just driving a ball home when he ran down the tree and in a squirrel sprint ran toward a hickory on my left. He ran right in front of me, not three feet away
I swing the butt at him hitting his head to send him to his ancestors.
it was my first kill with that rifle.

 

[coloradoclyde]

I have many muzzleloaders and have hunted for over half a century. I have many favorites, I have favorites with each gun, I have favorites for each species. The list is enormous. I cannot choose a single one.

 

[appalichian hunter]

There all special even so more with a flint lock.

 

[Spikebuck]

My all-time favorite was a small 7 point with a long bow at a few steps away on the ground. I actually have that small buck mounted right next to my largest, a 178" buck also taken with bow which hunt was not nearly as exciting as the much much smaller one.

But since this is about muzzleloading, Ol Moe took more fortitude than any other I've gotten with a muzzleloader. While not the largest racked buck I've taken, at 7 1/2 Years Old, he was the oldest. The conditions I endured plus his mature intelligence are what make this my favorite with a muzzleloader....

The Story of Ol' Moe