About 30 years ago I refinished a stock for a colleague at work who had gotten the flint rifle from his brother who had just gone into the military, so it was on its' way to becoming a family heirloom. Forget if it was a Cabela's or TC or what, since they all looked the same to me back then & it was just one of many flintlocks I fired, but didn't own. Anyway, I finished assembling it just in time to go camping, where we'd meet & I'd give it back to him. Last minute he couldn't make it, but told me to take it out and shoot it. He dropped off balls, patches and a can of powder at my desk.
The camping group had a mix of folks, ranging from several who had hunted with Dad when a kid, to some of the wimmens who had preferences towards tofu, Birkenstocks and treehugging. One of the guys brought a revolver, and .22 rifle along, and met with little success in getting up more than 2 of the guys to go shoot.
Later I broke out the flintlock, and after the 2nd shot, the line formed of those who wanted to shoot it. Even Tofu Girl, Birkenstock lady, and Treehugger Woman wanted in on a try. It got to the point where they were grabbing all the empty cans, plastic bottles and trash containers to fill with water for a chance to "blow it up with a roundball". Once a vegan tastes the blood of firing a flintlock, you play heck trying to pry it out of her hands. They soon all knew how to safely load and prime. The full pound of black powder was nearly empty, and it was getting dark.
Next morning at sun-up one of the gals snuck into my tent - to snuggle and maybe MORE?? Definitely just a fantasy - she wanted to go out & shoot the flintlock, and get in a few shots before we ran out of powder. My only mistake is that I didn't share the secret of cleaning up the rifle later.
Sadly, the group disbanded with some going on to other jobs in other parts of the country. I ended up in Germany a while later, so black powder rifles went on hold. It took marriage, building a house, and eventual death of my wife before I got back into serious black powder burning, although the Gallagher breechloader was always close at hand.
Today, the occasional "Remchester" hunter points and laughs while I seat a ball, and comments about an anachronistic relic. Very few shooters who come to the range for fall sight in days seem to actually have hunted (successfully) before - judging by the fact that their hunting rifles always need to be sighted in. This gives me an edge when challenging them to a "Bust the Grapefruit at 100 yards". They can shoot all they want, and manage to get off a couple of rounds while I'm loading. By the time they burn up a box of fancy ammo, my first roundball ends the contest by exploding the grapefruit (or water balloon).
Never underestimate the superiority of a non-ballistically shaped roundball with open sights when up against a modern rifle with a fancy scope. The losers (sometimes me) usually take it well. And for the poor sports, the offer to fire my rifle is never refused. A couple of the guys actually wanted to buy my rifle on the spot (lefthanded .54 cal Deerstalker) tempting, but they're not in the Lyman catalog anymore, so I can't give it up. This summer I saw a guy shooting a 'pretty' new .50 cal. capgun with the brass fittings and buttplate. He said that his Dad bought it, and can hit anything he can see with it. He said something about some guy with an old flintlock beat his bolt action hunting rifle last year, and he was putting in for muzzleloader season. I told him that it was either me, or one of the other guys. I let him shoot the flintlock that beat his Dad, and he let me shoot the .50 cal that was truly more accurate and easier to shoot than any of my .50's. He was going back to Ohio, Illinois or some other gawdawful place and his biggest regret was that he had to give the .50 cal back to his Dad.
:rotf:
