You most exciting flinter hunt?

[KyFlintlock]

I was wondering if there was any one flintlock hunt that sticks out in your mind....that you often think of?

What was it and why is it "the one to remember"?

The snow is falling and my mind is wandering and wanting to hear of your stories....I can almost smell the smoke.

Thanks
Wess

 

[bob1961]

the one that keeps sticking in my mind isn't a hunt i did but a hunt with a long gun that i would like to do is a bull elk just a bulgling and grunting as he steps in front of my sights......bob

 

[GobblerKnob]

Several years ago, I was at home doing monthly reports. We were in the throes of a winter blizzard. The flintlock season was half over and I had only been out a couple times. The snow was deep and getting deeper by the hour. I decided to put away the pen in exchange for my flintlock. I geared up and headed for an extensive patch of hemlocks that bordered a creek to the rear of my property. I reasoned that I would be able to find deer bedded down to weather the storm.
As I entered the hemlock stand, the intensity of the storm began to abate. I was able to silently slip through the giant trees without making any noise. I had my CVA, "Mountain Rifle cradled in my arms a glove over the lock to protect it from the lightly falling snow.
About 100 yards into my foray, I spotted a deer bedded down under a hemlock. Then another form materialzed, then yet another. In all, there were five deer bedded down, all covered with snow.
They were about 50 yards away and didn't have a clue that I was near. I slowly eased up to hamlock as they chewed their cuds. I took a steady aim on the neck of the largest deer and when the waivering sights settled, I pressed the trigger, The crash and recoil of my rifle sent a small shower of snow onto my postion and it was many long seconds before before I could see whether I hit my target. As the smoke and snow slowly drifted away, I could see the deer on it's side, slowly kicking in one last attempt to rise. Finally, she was still. I quickly reloaded and approached her. The hole in her neck was right where I aimed and did the job quickly and humanely.
I gave thanks for my success and began the long journey back to the house. he snow was so deep that took me an hour even though the distance was barely 250 yards. As I rested on the porch, the deer bending the limb from which it was suspended in my yard, I reflected back on the hunt. It was memorable because I went one on one with the elements and the prey and prevailed. It was just a good hunt... Rick

 

[B.Habermehl]

That's an easy one, it would be my first flintlock deer harvest.
The day after Christmas some years back my brother in law takes me to a farm he had permission to hunt and could bring guests. It was colder than sin, my beard and mustache were frozen and collecting more ice by the hour. I set up in a nest of fallen trees to break up my outline and mask minor movement. About 10 am soon to be reaching my limit of cold weather endurance, I hear movement behind me. I smell a odor that reminds me of livestock. "What the heck is a cow doing out here." I think. Knowing that there should not be any live stock for a mile or more. Then three deer walk out from behind me and up wind of me. "Aha thats what deer smell like." I think. One steps behind a tree and allows me to raise the rifle, she takes one more step, the range is about 15 feet. The deer is facing away from me, I settle the sights on the spot where the spine meets the skull. Squeeze, Boom, Pamdimonium! As the smoke cloud clears deer are bouncing every where! I was surrounded! The deer I shot, shockingly seems to be trying to get up! Buck feever strikes with a vengence, With shaking hands I try to reload, while watching the deer. Finally after spilling powder and about dropping the bullet block and the short starter, the rifle is reloaded, prime and fire. Now no more movement. I never approach a downed animal with a unloaded fire arm so I reload, this time with out so much fumbling. Then walk over to the deer, me shaking like a leaf, touch her with the muzzle. The deer is down for keeps. Now I give thanks to the Creator for the harvest. Looking at the deer, I see the balls both impacted exactly where I settled the front sight, for both shots. My next thought is "Now we have a dead deer and a loaded gun. What's the smart thing to do? unload the gun of course." After firing the gun into a rotten stump nearby, my brother in law comes around the hill into view. Holy..... How many times are you going to shoot that poor deer? It would be nice to have somthing left to eat he teases. After tagging the deer and dressing it, we finally get a bit of a warm on dragging her out to the truck. On the way home the truck radio says the temp was 5 below zero, we believed it.

 

[AgesofDays]

that was a very ..well written post story you had me relating to your situation .I just left my keyboard and took the trip with you ....thank you knobgobbler

 

[HardBall]

This is a good thread... I'm really enjoying reading you guys posts

 

[rayb]

Not exciting, but remembered...

In 1982 i was lucky enough to be picked in a drawing to hunt Chaparrel Wildlife Mgt area neart Artesia Wells in South Texas. The management area is, i think, part of the old George Light Ranch. I don't recall how big the place is, probably only 5 or 6 thousand acres. Mostly typical south Texas, mesquite, whitebrush, prickly pear, catclaw, grajeno, tasahillo, all with the usual thorns. Deer evcerywhere, lots of javelina and feral hogs were expanding then as well. Well, early in December i tried to get a horse to climb a tree, he wouldn't do it and objected strongly enough that i had difficulty hanging on. He tried to sideswipe me off on the tree which i whacked pretty good with my left leg. A little visit to the doc resulted. They put 2 1/4" stainless steel rods inside it to sort of hold things together inside along with a plastic wrap around the outside while it healed. So anyway, the hunt was mid January and by that time i could move around pretty good with my special wrappings so i drove down to the ranch. I took my .54 renegade flintlock that i had bought while stationed in West Virginia. ABout 5 or 6 hunters had permits that day. The people in charge and the guides were very nice, picked out a smaller area for me to hunt in. They gave us all a briefing, gave us a map, then took us out to our areas and showed us the boundaries of our areas. Turkey, any deer and javalina were legal. They let me out at a sendero and drove off. Well, i was ok for more or less still hunting with my leg in the shape it was so i eased off down the path, stopping frequently and trying to enjoy the cold weather (it was dead winter and very South Texas cold, about 40 degrees, and sunny). After about an hour i heard some javelinas grunting off in the whitebrush thicket, so i set down and waited to see what would happen. After a while about a half dozen javelinas came out of the whitebrush into the path, and were rooting around on the ground. I guessed about 50 yards away, and tried to get set to take a shot at the biggest one. I wasn't smart enough to have taken a shooting stick or anything else, so took up the standard military sitting position as best i could. Took up a good sight picture even with the top of his shoulders, and shot about a foot over him. Lots of squealing, running around and dust resulted. Of cours no dead pig. I limped on down to see what they were rooting at and found a few shriveled up prickly pear apples. Started back to my pick up point. Took about another hour or so at my pace. Made it back OK. Got picked up at the right time and hurrahed a bit about the flintlock missing. Drove over to our home place about another hour away, saw at leat 50 more javelinas along the way. Not a successful hunt due to my ignorance and inexperience with that rifle. Poor shooting, poor mobility, not very primitive or wilderness experience like but if you've been in a hospital for a while it sure is good to get out....

That's my story and i'm sticking to it. ::

rayb

 

[roundball]

I was wondering if there was any one flintlock hunt that sticks out in your mind....that you often think of?

What was it and why is it "the one to remember"?

The snow is falling and my mind is wandering and wanting to hear of your stories....I can almost smell the smoke.

Thanks
Wess

I switched to flintlocks 3 years ago and the first buck with a .54cal TC flintlock was special as the first one of course...but the most significant flintlock deer hunting I will always remember is last fall ('03) when I was unbelieveably fortunate enough to find and hunt over a heavy trail coming out of a big clearcut area.

On vacation during the rut I filled all four buck tags in 10 days with .54cal, then .50cal, then .45cal flintlocks & PRB's from the same stand.

And one of the days was an 8 pointer at 6:30am followed by a 7 pointer at 7:00am with the .50cal...never before and probably never again...but without a doubt the most memorable 2 week vacation hunting the rut I've ever had, and all with flintlocks. :redthumb:

 

[RiverRat]

My most exciting flinter deer hunt happened during the PA flinlock season 2002. I was posted about 100yds from a private snow covered dirt road, under the snow laden branches on of hemlock.
That December morning, the snow drifts were waist deep, outside of the protective cover of the group of hemlocks. My pusher, was a friend, 64 years young who spoke broken English. He was curious about this muzzleloader hunting thing. None of his immigrant family or friends ever hunted with anything else but a 30-06. I was worried about his age because the snow was deep in Berlin township and he wanted me to drop him off on the other side of the mountain, about a mile walk. I sat there waiting, more concerned about him than seeing any deer. But then they came, four does about 80yds away. I took aim with my 50 TC PA hunter, squeezed one off, and waited for the smoke to clear. I seen one jump, I reloaded, and slowly walked closer.
It was a young one, I gave it a second shot. My friend yelled, we laughed..it was magic! It was my first!

 

[RMillet]

My favorite flintlock hunt was around 1990. We used to take canoes up to the end of the road and put them in on the Kunjamuck about 10 miles NE of town. From there we paddled and portaged about 2 more miles to a point overlooking a big vly. We set up a makeshift leanto and spent the week hunting the big woods of the Adirondacks. At the time we (my uncle, a friend and myself) were pretty much the only hunters in a five mile radius from the camp. On Wednesday, late morning I figured I'd still hunt SE from camp, everybody else just stayed in due to the weather. The wind was blowing so hard trees were falling over up behind camp. About a mile from camp I crept up to the top of a small arm running up the ridge and peeked over. About 60 yards away at the bottom of the little valley a nice doe was standing broadside to me feeding. I took a good rest with my left hand on a sapling, one knee on the ground and put a ball just behind her shoulder. Deer erupted all over the place, running in every direction except directly at me. There was no blood, the leaves were all fluffed up on account of the wind and given the number of deer that took off I had no idea which track was hers. I did however see which direction she ran, so I just headed that way. Not 30 yards from where she stood when I shot she had dropped dead and fallen into a little depression just below the top of the ridge. I almost walked right by her. After giving my thanks and field dressing her I dragged her all the way back to camp alone. There's just something about still hunting and really feeling like I did it all alone that seared that memory in to my mind.

It's been quite a few years since we hunted up there for a week at a time and the hunting was never very good but it sure felt real.

 

[Dave K]

Well, I am still working on flintlock memories and I have yet to take a deer with a flintlock, but squirrels and groundhogs have been added to my count. But I since my SxS 20ga. shotgun is flint I guess it counts. This Sept. I was headed to the hospital in a few days for a surgery and I just had to bag some doves with that 20ga. flinter. It was awesome. I will never forget the first one that cartwheeled out of the sky. Soon I was loading and shooting as fast as I could go. When the smoke cleared (literally!) I had 8 doves on the ground. Fun is hardly the word to use, but knowing that this gun may have done the same thing 200yrs. before, was just awesome to see and feel the history in front of me.

 

[KyFlintlock]

y'all got me so worked-up on the flintlock hunting I ain't gonna be able to sleep tonight! :thumbsup:

KEEP EM COMING!!!!
Wess

 

[Nightwind]

That old pin oak tree setting on a knoll looked promising offering a great view of the surrounding area. Save for a few tree/fence rows and couple of nearby hills, I could see everything within 1,500yds. I decided to try my luck with the flint smoothbore I just finished and sighted in two weeks previous. After about a half hour, I leaned the rifle next to me on my right and soaked in this beautiful view.

Finally, I saw two bucks running towards me on the left, I grabbed the smoothie and got ready for the shot. Guess I wasn't part of their flight plan as they veered long before getting close. Without looking away from where they were running on my left side, I set the smoothie back against the tree and continued watching for another minute. Looked to the right and saw five deer standing not 15 yds away and staring at me. Jumpin' jeepers! how long have they been there? Grabbed the 54 smoothie and dropped the biggest doe with a perfect quartering away heart shot. Still shaking at the excitement, I set the smoothie back against the tree and mentally congratulated her on her first job well done.

I heard brushes crashing and here comes those two bucks from behind my left side,..... and there's Grace....... leaning against the tree unloaded! "Dang! I'll never make that mistake again". So I loaded her up, and got ready to go look at the doe. And here comes five more charging from the front left! Took a lead on the bigun', steeeeady... BOOM, smoke clears and there a nice buck sliding down the weedy hill! I'm thinking this is crazy! Never seen anything like this in all my 30 years of deer hunting. Well, I'm standing there thanking God for this bountiful harvest, and wouldn't you know? Here comes the biggest eleven point buck that everybody within four miles has been drooling over and there's me and Grace......UNLOADED!!! I'm standing there thinking "I'll never make that mistake again!" ...Hellooo, is there an echo in here?

All this happened within 30 minutes! Boy, would I like to show you guys a pic of the meat locker we had last year!

 

[musketman]

A while back (~10 years ago) I was hunting groundhogs with my brown bess, it was on a nice, hot summer's day...

I spied a groundhog a short ways up and positioned myself between a few bales of hay for cover...

Man, those big flinters sure do throw sparks, don't they...

I shot at the groundhog, only the smoke didn't clear, thats because I set the bale of hay on fire with the flash and spark...

I did get the fire out, good thing I brought my own water... :winking: :crackup:

 

[musketman]

A while back (~10 years ago) I was hunting groundhogs with my brown bess, it was on a nice, hot summer's day...

I spied a groundhog a short ways up and positioned myself between a few bales of hay for cover...

Man, those big flinters sure do throw sparks, don't they...

I shot at the groundhog, only the smoke didn't clear, thats because I set the bale of hay on fire with the flash and spark...

I did get the fire out, good thing I brought my own water... :winking: :crackup:

 

[KyFlintlock]

Some exciting stuff - the firehose thing cracked me up too!

Now, this story you'll have to forgive me for doing things wrong, but at that time I didn't know WHAT I was doing (still don't most days), but I knew I LOVED that new flinter!

GOBBBBBLE!!! I roosted the bird the eve before opening day, he thundered back every time a let an owl hoot fly with my voice (my wife loves that...NOT). This was my first year to hunt blackpowder turkey and I was rushed and ran off without my shot wads. "What are you going to use" my buddy asked as he jacked a 3 1/2" load into his Mossberg 835. I smiled and said, "hand me that sock". Yes, I cut the toe off of the sock and stuffed her down, then finished loading and scrambed out the door, taking another piece in case a second shot was needed. We laughed as we walked through the darkness toward the far ridge and talked about past hunts and of just spending time outside.

I eased into the woods and slipped quietly to within about 75 yards of the fenceline I figured he was roosted in (MONSTER white oaks). As twinkle-light started to arrive he started turning it loose, often times double-gobbling. I gripped the flintlock tighter and tighter, a large smile (just like the grinch) under my headnet. I didn't call until he pitched out, and he was only about 60 yards away. I gave him a few soft yelps and he headed right toward me, the 10" beard swinging as you please. At 18 yards he started to cirle around me, but all of the trees were so small I couldn't move. As he passed a tree about 12" in diameter, I whipped the flintlock up. He jerked his head up and I took aim and fired in a single motion. At the shot I rushed forward and watched as he flew up into a tree about 40 yards from me. I froze, the empty flintlock resting on my foot. Well, I'll be.... I stared at him, just knowing he would drop any second. About 5 minutes later a hen pitched out behind me, glided by about 20 feet away and landed about 15 yards in front. I smiled! A few seconds later another turkey pitched out and landed right next to her, a jake. And me, standing there with my empty flintlock resting on my foot. (I could hear my buddy razzing me now)...

After a few minutes, the jake and hen started moving off and the big gobbler pitched out and joined them. I watched them feed on over the hill out of sight and I concluded that I CHOKED. I eased up to the hill, but they were gone. I figured I moved too fast, they saw me and bolted.

That afternoon I headed back out, another "sock load" ready for action. I entered the backside of the same thicket and gave a few yelps on a mussel-shell call that my buddies dad made for me. It sounded SO sweet, and was immediately answered. I made haste and worked my way toward the bird, up a small draw. I sat down, and gave 3 more soft yelps. GOBBBLEEEEE!!!! he was so close I decided to cock er' back. About a minute later I see a white head looking over the briars at me from 30 yards.... He moves closer, to 25 yards. He stops and lifts his head, turning it sideways staring a hole through me. I thought I was going to pass straight away!!! He continued to 20 yards, 15 yards, 10 yards, BOOOOM!!!! At about 7 yards I pulled the trigger and the smoke filled the air. I laid the gun down and jumped to my feet rushing through the smoke. To my surprise the turkey was running up through the cedars! I was crashing over saplings right after him and I noticed he was starting to slow.... As we ran along I began to gain on him and all at once he keeled over and was dead. I stopped right there and thanked the GOOD LORD for this bird and for such an exciting hunt!

 

[GobblerKnob]

I have one more if you'll allow me the time...
In PA, the flinlock season opens the day after Christmas. Our deer herd had just been hammered hard for two weeks and three days. In 2001, I marked my 22nd year of flintlock deer hunting. During that time, I had never seen an antlered deer during the season, let alone one to shoot at. On this opening day, the deer were everywhere. The temps were in the 40's. I planned to hold out for a buck, as I always do, until the end of the season. I saw about 20 deer, all does, all safe, during the morning still-hunt. As the afternoon approached, I decided to work my way to a secluded field and sit out the waning day along it's edge. I found a large Maple tree and nestled in against its trunk. Life was good...
As the afternoon wore on, deer began to emerge from the woods on the opposite edge of the field. One turned into four. Four turned into ten. Finally, 17 deer were feeding in the field, and low and behold, one was a buck! It was scrubby 3 point, but if he came closer, he was going home with me!
Nell was leaned up against the tree as I waited for them to feed into range. At the rate they were going, it would be a while. As long as the wind didn't give me away, I knew I'd have a shot befor quitting time.
As I watched the group of deer feeding just out of range, I heard shuffling in the leaves behind me. It was getting closer and closer. I turned around to see what was coming just in time to see a very large doe feeding her way toward me. As she closed the distance, I was beginning to worry that she'd detect me and spook the deer in the field behind me. She came to within 15 yards nosing through the fallen leaves, looking for the beechnuts that littered the ground. Nell still leaned against the tree.
As the doe began to move off, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head ever so slightly and was stunned to see the head and neck of a buck, with antlers, sticking out from behind a beech tree, a scant 20 yards away! Nell was still leaning against the tree.
The buck was so intent on this doe that he never noticed me lean forward to retrieve my rifle.
The doe squatted to relieve herself and slowly walked off. the buck, his nose to the ground, made a beeline to the spot where she squatted. The sounds of the hammer being cocked were lost in the rustle of leaves as the doe moved away. The buck began to follow while my sights quilted a random pattern over his chest, refusing to come to rest.
The sound of flint on steel was lost as Nell spoke. While the smoke lazily drifted away, I could see the buck desparately trying to rise. His antlers were gleaming in the rays of the afternoon sun.
As I watched his efforts to rise become more feeble with each attempt, I suddenly realized that I was standing there with an empty rifle! What would I do should he rise? I loaded as quickly as I could and approached the buck. He had expired. I found a tree to rest Nell against and sat down next to him, waiting for my own excitement to ebb. Taking time to run my fingers over the polished antlers, I examined him more closely, looking for the bullet hole. I gave thanks he was so close when I finally discoverd it.
I gave thanks that he was 15 yards away when I shot because I was shaking so badly that instead of hitting him in the shoulder, where I was aiming, the ball struck him high in the neck, breaking it! I had very nearly missed him!
That buck, a reminder of my first antlered deer with a flintlock, looks down upon me even as I type this. He is a buck and a hunt I will never forget...

 

[bob1961]

i'm still waiting for my first buck with a smokepole but it will have to wait till next year....my bow scored first this year.......................bob

 

[GobblerKnob]

Perhaps we'll have a story to tell come Wednesday... I'm looking forward to it!

 

[CG6018]

Gobbler, that is a great story and a fine trophy. I'd like to join you for a hunt on SGL #219, but Bradford Co. is a bit far for a day's hunt. Good luck to you all.

After retiring from teaching and successfully battling the big "C", another retired teacher friend convinced me to join him for a white-tail hunt on Quebec's Anticosti Island in 2002. We selected Safari Anticosti outfitters during a visit to the Outdoor Show in Harrisburg, and then sat back to wait for our late fall hunt. I knew I wanted to take my .54 cal flintlock longrifle, but thought maybe I needed a backup rifle of the modern type. After talking to Brad Emig, the builder of my rifle, at Dixon's Gunmakers Fair, he convinced me that the flinter was all I needed.

We arrived on Anticosti Is. and were greeted with 15" of snow and drifts to your waist. On the first day out, I managed to spot a small racked buck through the black spruce and decided that I had better take him for my first ever buck with a flintlock. With this deer hanging in the meat house, I thought I'd become a "trophy" hunter for the rest of the week, and I didn't see anything larger than spikes and "Y" bucks.

On the final day of our hunt, the weather warmed to above freezing, and the few south-facing banks and openings had deer coming out to feed. Around noon, I spotted a nice buck across the Salmon River, and I knew if I were to have a chance for a shot, I needed to wade the river. The guide said that he felt my 16" boots would be sufficient to cross, but about mid-stream the river reached 18" and quickly filled my boots with icy water. I continued to cross, and managed to get within what I thought to be about 100 yards, and proceeded to shoot under the buck's chest. The shot confused the buck and he started toward me. In a rush to reload, I managed to break the ramrod about 2" above the jag. Using the broken rod and my shortstarter, I was able to seat another patched ball on a powder charge. Shaking from cold feet and jangled nerves, I cleanly missed the second shot as well.

My hunt, I felt, was over and waded back across the river for another soaking to be greeted by the guide who said to get in the truck for a wild 15 mile ride back to camp for dry socks and my fiberglass cleaning rod. We returned to the river area with about an hour left of this final day. My friend had taken a fine 8-pointer in the morning about a quarter of a mile up river. The guide spotted a buck chasing two does across an open expanse of 500+ yards. We knew this would be my last opportunity to score, so we began the stalk by using the river bank, and then crawled through the snow to within 125 yards. Using the cleaning rod as a rest, and the guide using the grunt call to keep the buck standing still, I was able to put the roundball through the front shoulder. The buck dropped in his tracks. As we approached the buck, we heard another shot from up river, and since we knew we were the only hunters in this zone, it had to be my buddy. He had dropped another fine 8-pointer.

My buck was missing brow tines, but had six points and an inside spread of 17 1/2 inches. His rack hangs under my longrifle and along side my bag and horn. To set off the whole arrangement is the Mark Anderson print from a couple of years back that appeared on the cover of Game News, showing a longhunter kneeling in the snow preparing for another shot.

If you get to Harrisburg in February, stop by the Safari Anticosti booth and look through their scrapbook. Somewhere in there you'll find a photo of two old guys with white beards kneeling over three fine white-tails. It was an expensive hunt, but one I'll never forget!