Yesterday was the last day of the early muzzleloader season here in New Yorks northern zone and the first opportunity for me to hunt. This was to be my first outing with the new .54 Lancaster flintlock.
I replaced the rock with a fresh piece of English flint and tested a few times to insure good spark. The lock throws sparks in abundance so a patched roundball was seated over a 70 gr charge of fffg.
The walk to the woods behind my house is short and I was snug in the stand by 4 o'clock. The woods were cool and damp making it hard to hunt with my ears and would have to depend on sight. If anything came from behind, the wet leaves could give no warning.
Just before sunset the shadows were making it quite dim so I decided to walk to the edge of my field and hunt on the way home. As I stood and began climbing down from the stand a deer ran from behind me. The rifle jumped to my shoulder and I mouthed a "blaaaat" trying to get the deer to stop, such was not the case. I paused and waited cursing the bad timing but hoping the deer wasn't alone. A minute later I saw movement coming down the same trail and got ready. With the cock back and the trigger set I looked for the deer to step into an opening I had picked out. When he stepped through that spot I again softly said "blaaaat" and he stopped instantly. With the rifle rested against the side of the stand I settled the sights on the bucks vitals and touched the trigger.
The smoke obscured the deer but I could make out it's dash through the woods trying to escape but the damage had already been done. As I reloaded a little skipper walked by not 15 yards away and seemed not to mind that I was even there. Once charged again I slowly followed down the trail the deer had run. I don't like pushing them but with light fading fast I pursued anyway.
He was found dead as a stone about 50 yards away, a fine young 8 pointer. The ball had struck the shoulder smashing the heavy bone and passed through the top of the heart.
To say the least, I was more then pleased with the hunt and the performance of my new flinter.
Britches
I replaced the rock with a fresh piece of English flint and tested a few times to insure good spark. The lock throws sparks in abundance so a patched roundball was seated over a 70 gr charge of fffg.
The walk to the woods behind my house is short and I was snug in the stand by 4 o'clock. The woods were cool and damp making it hard to hunt with my ears and would have to depend on sight. If anything came from behind, the wet leaves could give no warning.
Just before sunset the shadows were making it quite dim so I decided to walk to the edge of my field and hunt on the way home. As I stood and began climbing down from the stand a deer ran from behind me. The rifle jumped to my shoulder and I mouthed a "blaaaat" trying to get the deer to stop, such was not the case. I paused and waited cursing the bad timing but hoping the deer wasn't alone. A minute later I saw movement coming down the same trail and got ready. With the cock back and the trigger set I looked for the deer to step into an opening I had picked out. When he stepped through that spot I again softly said "blaaaat" and he stopped instantly. With the rifle rested against the side of the stand I settled the sights on the bucks vitals and touched the trigger.
The smoke obscured the deer but I could make out it's dash through the woods trying to escape but the damage had already been done. As I reloaded a little skipper walked by not 15 yards away and seemed not to mind that I was even there. Once charged again I slowly followed down the trail the deer had run. I don't like pushing them but with light fading fast I pursued anyway.
He was found dead as a stone about 50 yards away, a fine young 8 pointer. The ball had struck the shoulder smashing the heavy bone and passed through the top of the heart.
To say the least, I was more then pleased with the hunt and the performance of my new flinter.
Britches
