Day 1 -
After a 3-hour drive I arrive to the location and discover the Weather Man is totally wrong - again - as if anyone is surprised. Instead of the 58 degrees predicted, that got the numbers backwards. It is 85 degrees. A light flannel shirt and brown duct jeans will do for this afternoons attire. I pour 80-grains of Goex FFFg down the flintlock barrel. This is followed by a pillow tick strip and .530 ball, strip cut at muzzle and seated. This is not my usual flintlock, this is a "back-up" that is filling in while my primary rifle gets some custom work done to it. This rifle has been 100% reliable and very accurate at the range. I hike the mile into the hunting area which is a woodlot surrounded by cattle farms. The landowner has provided pretty good descriptions of what the deer should do.
I crawl under some blow down debris and find the shooting lane that was described. It is 4PM. Just prior to priming a stick a wire with a horn handle gently into the touch hole. I always feel the powder just a tad and have confidence the rifle will have instant ignition. Like I said, this has been the case at the range without exception. Hmmmm. I don't feel any powder. I know I poured it in there and knocked on the opposite side from the lockplate. Oh well, cant fool with it now, we will see. There are deer way over in a wheat field, but nothing that inspires me to move. There is movement to the right, and a forkhorn buck strolls past at around 60-yards. He crossed the opening in the woods and jumps a 5-strand barbed wire fence. Now 5:40PM, there are just a few more minutes of shooting time left. I feel my pants sticking to my leg as I shift to wipe the sweat from my forehead. Hello: movement on the right again. Whoa, nice buck. Tall tines, outside the ears, at least 8 points. Up comes the rangefinder and it says: 78-yards. The rifle sights move to the chest and are rock steady on the sticks. I pull the hammer and set the trigger. This is going to be a chip shot. Clack. Darn it, no boom. Not meant to be this evening. I hike out in the darkness with high hopes for tomorrow. There is a light breeze now and I smell the distinct odor of alfalfa, now I know where I'm heading tomorrow....
After a 3-hour drive I arrive to the location and discover the Weather Man is totally wrong - again - as if anyone is surprised. Instead of the 58 degrees predicted, that got the numbers backwards. It is 85 degrees. A light flannel shirt and brown duct jeans will do for this afternoons attire. I pour 80-grains of Goex FFFg down the flintlock barrel. This is followed by a pillow tick strip and .530 ball, strip cut at muzzle and seated. This is not my usual flintlock, this is a "back-up" that is filling in while my primary rifle gets some custom work done to it. This rifle has been 100% reliable and very accurate at the range. I hike the mile into the hunting area which is a woodlot surrounded by cattle farms. The landowner has provided pretty good descriptions of what the deer should do.
I crawl under some blow down debris and find the shooting lane that was described. It is 4PM. Just prior to priming a stick a wire with a horn handle gently into the touch hole. I always feel the powder just a tad and have confidence the rifle will have instant ignition. Like I said, this has been the case at the range without exception. Hmmmm. I don't feel any powder. I know I poured it in there and knocked on the opposite side from the lockplate. Oh well, cant fool with it now, we will see. There are deer way over in a wheat field, but nothing that inspires me to move. There is movement to the right, and a forkhorn buck strolls past at around 60-yards. He crossed the opening in the woods and jumps a 5-strand barbed wire fence. Now 5:40PM, there are just a few more minutes of shooting time left. I feel my pants sticking to my leg as I shift to wipe the sweat from my forehead. Hello: movement on the right again. Whoa, nice buck. Tall tines, outside the ears, at least 8 points. Up comes the rangefinder and it says: 78-yards. The rifle sights move to the chest and are rock steady on the sticks. I pull the hammer and set the trigger. This is going to be a chip shot. Clack. Darn it, no boom. Not meant to be this evening. I hike out in the darkness with high hopes for tomorrow. There is a light breeze now and I smell the distinct odor of alfalfa, now I know where I'm heading tomorrow....