markinstettler
36 Cal.
- Joined
- Oct 26, 2006
- Messages
- 98
- Reaction score
- 0
I was out on our farmland (which we aren't yet living on) working up a load for my .54 GPR flint. The rifle still isn't sited in, but shoots pretty close to POA at 25 yards. As usual, the first group of 5 worked flawlessly, but then things started to go wrong.
Since I'm using up the last of some flints that are too short, and since I like to use a flint until the cock-screw hits the frizzen, I started to run out of sparks. Changed the flint, fired a round with no problems, then I had a flash in the pan. Got out the .32 bronze bore brush, cleaned the patent breech, cleared the touch hole with a pipe-cleaner, and cleaned off the pan. Fired another round. Then I loaded without powder.
I got out my ball puller for the first time and went to work. Eventually, I had the ball about 6" from the muzzle, and found myself under a tree with the handle of my range rod hooked on a branch for the final pull. At that moment, I saw a ground squirrel flick its tail on a nearby pile of rocks that were picked from the fields by my grandpa 60 years ago. The little guy couldn't have been 10 paces away. This was a real shock to me, as there is still a lot of snow on the ground and in the fields. I wasn't expecting to see any ground squirrels for another couple of weeks.
So I pulled the ball the free, glanced at all my reloading supplies that were 50 paces away, turned to the ground squirrel, and explained to him how lucky he was.
I returned to shooting. After a couple of rounds some movement drew my attention and I noticed that the ground squirrel was still hopping around the rock pile. With the rifle loaded, and with my property nearly over-run with ground squirrels last fall, I figured I had to take this opportunity.
There's really no story here as the ground squirrel was so curious about the flintlock, that he got up on his hind legs and gawked at me from the top of the pile. I braced against a tree at about 12 yards aimed, pulled the trigger, blinked as nothing happened, brushed the flint off, recocked, pulled the trigger again, waited for the smoke to clear, and was relieved that even without the rifle sited in, I'd made a killing shot across his neck and upper back.
Since I've wanted to try my hand at tanning, and because my dog has a fondness for ground squirrel, I set to work skinning and dressed the carcass. It's been a while and my only sharp knife was too big for the job, so it took more time than it should, but with the deed done, I returned to shooting, finished up a group (which ended up being one ragged hole), packed up and went home.
Sadly, my dog must have lost her fondness for gopher over the winter as she wouldn't touch it.
I'll be happier once I've used the last of those short flints. And I really have to get myself a .36.
Since I'm using up the last of some flints that are too short, and since I like to use a flint until the cock-screw hits the frizzen, I started to run out of sparks. Changed the flint, fired a round with no problems, then I had a flash in the pan. Got out the .32 bronze bore brush, cleaned the patent breech, cleared the touch hole with a pipe-cleaner, and cleaned off the pan. Fired another round. Then I loaded without powder.
I got out my ball puller for the first time and went to work. Eventually, I had the ball about 6" from the muzzle, and found myself under a tree with the handle of my range rod hooked on a branch for the final pull. At that moment, I saw a ground squirrel flick its tail on a nearby pile of rocks that were picked from the fields by my grandpa 60 years ago. The little guy couldn't have been 10 paces away. This was a real shock to me, as there is still a lot of snow on the ground and in the fields. I wasn't expecting to see any ground squirrels for another couple of weeks.
So I pulled the ball the free, glanced at all my reloading supplies that were 50 paces away, turned to the ground squirrel, and explained to him how lucky he was.
I returned to shooting. After a couple of rounds some movement drew my attention and I noticed that the ground squirrel was still hopping around the rock pile. With the rifle loaded, and with my property nearly over-run with ground squirrels last fall, I figured I had to take this opportunity.
There's really no story here as the ground squirrel was so curious about the flintlock, that he got up on his hind legs and gawked at me from the top of the pile. I braced against a tree at about 12 yards aimed, pulled the trigger, blinked as nothing happened, brushed the flint off, recocked, pulled the trigger again, waited for the smoke to clear, and was relieved that even without the rifle sited in, I'd made a killing shot across his neck and upper back.
Since I've wanted to try my hand at tanning, and because my dog has a fondness for ground squirrel, I set to work skinning and dressed the carcass. It's been a while and my only sharp knife was too big for the job, so it took more time than it should, but with the deed done, I returned to shooting, finished up a group (which ended up being one ragged hole), packed up and went home.
Sadly, my dog must have lost her fondness for gopher over the winter as she wouldn't touch it.
I'll be happier once I've used the last of those short flints. And I really have to get myself a .36.