a favorite hunt from the old days
Dec 31, 2022 12:27:47 GMT -7
Black Hand, Keith, and 2 more like this
Post by spence on Dec 31, 2022 12:27:47 GMT -7
My deer hunting days are apparently behind me, but I still enjoy reliving some of the good old days. With apologies, an entry...long... from my hunting journal detailing one of the best of them.
The preceding entry of an unsuccessful hunt ended like this…..
Nov. 20, 2011
The humidity during this hunt was 99-100% the whole time, yet when I dumped my prime at the car it was still perfectly dry, flowed like dry sand, and I hadn’t renewed it since 0645. It had spent almost 3 hours in the rain with only the cow’s knee covering it. One thing I did learn, your pan brush gets wet if you have it hanging on your shot pouch strap. Need to take one along in the pouch, keep it dry. Other than that, my wet weather preparations and gear were spot on. The cow’s knee worked perfectly, as usual, and I had run a bead of lube along the barrel-stock junction which kept the pan and lock dry. I was ready for them, if they had showed. I had really wanted to take a deer in the rain using cedar wadding, but it wasn’t to be.
Nov. 23, 2011
Well, actually, it was, or close enough. Great hunt, today, one of my best. Sort of an early 78th birthday present to myself. Arrived at 0620, temperature 45°, wind WNW at 10 mph, very dark, cloudy with drizzle and light fog. I was on stand in the NE corner of Keith’s woods by 0645, legal shooting time 0702, but it was so dark I didn’t prime until 0715. I was carrying the Jackie Brown Carolina 20-gauge flintlock smooth rifle loaded with 85 gr. FFFg Goex and a homemade .600” ball, using only shredded cedar bark wadding. Dressed modern and with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders for the wind. The drizzle was heavy enough I broke out my cow’s knee, had to use it periodically throughout the day even though it never rained hard. At 0745 I saw a flicker of motion to the left of the small cluster of trees at the corner, couldn’t tell if it was something alive or shreds of corn stalk being blown by the wind, which was happening fairly frequently. I watched intently and saw a deer come out from the right side of the cluster, walking steadily toward the long island. Large bodied, gray, and it walked like a buck, but it was still so dark I couldn’t see clearly. It stopped behind a tree with only its rump sticking out, about 45 yards away, its head down and apparently eating. I got ready, because it seemed to be heading toward the track between me and the long island, which would give me a shot. But, it stood there for a couple of minutes, and then apparently turned and walked east, toward the other end of long island, because it just faded away into the foggy haze, I never saw any sign of it again. Got the old heart pumping, warmed me up a bit, but that’s all. That was all the excitement in the morning. I sat until 1100, then walked through Keith’s woods to the car. I had parked up by the house, because the ground was so very squishy-soft I didn’t think I dared go any farther. I napped, drank coffee, listened to classical music, munched on homemade black walnut fudge and ginger snaps until 1330 and hit it again. The temperature was steady at 48°, wind had gradually decreased throughout the day to about 6 mph, so I left the blanket behind. Tandy had told of seeing two groups of deer in the 9-acre field near Harts line, one of two bucks and eight does, the other of 16 does, and both had gone into the cedar thicket at 1600-1700, so I decided to set up in the thicket for the afternoon hunt. I found a likely spot about 25-30 yards inside the northern boundary and about the same distance from Hart’s fence to the east. A double-trunk tree growing in the edge of an under-wash or sinkhole and with a huge grapevine, at least 4” in diameter, was situated just right, and I spent 5 minutes clearing the ground and brush for a stand. I settled into it at about 1410. I had a good view of the corner of the corn field, which had been cut, and of the entire part of Hart’s line in the cedar thicket. The small stream ran between me and the field, leaving a sort of single row of trees and a lot of weeds between the stream and the field. I hadn’t been sitting there 20 minutes when a deer suddenly appeared in the corner and began feeding on the corn. It appeared to be a small doe, but there was so much brush and briars between us at the edge of the field I could never get a fair view. There were a few narrow clear shooting lanes, and it occasionally moved across one of them, but never when turned into a position for a shot. I got my knee up, cocked my gun and took the position. It fed there for 10 minutes, then began to wander further into the field. It then reversed itself, fed back to where it had been, wandered a bit to the left, then began to walk straight west along the edge of the woods. There were several possible shooting lanes, and I lined up on the best of them. It walked into the lane, which was only about half its length wide, and was going steadily on. Up till this point I wasn’t sure I would take the shot, it looked so small through the briars. The deer was at about 40 yards, I had a good rest, I had shot 1.5” groups with this cedar bark wadding at 35 yards….but it looked so small. I had promised myself I would take any deer which presented a shot, though, even a fawn, since I was handicapped by the cedar wadding, so I aimed at low center chest and fired. Ignition was immediate, even though I had primed more than 7 hours before, the humidity was almost 100% and it had rained intermittently throughout the day. The wind cleared the smoke quickly, for a change, and I saw the deer whirl and run toward Hart’s line, disappearing in a couple of leaps. I watched along the line it had been on, listened for any sounds of its passage, and heard a kind of grunt at what would have been 50 yards along its path. I thought that sounded like a death grunt, but couldn’t be sure. I took my time about reloading, then tried to cut across the triangle to reach the spot where I thought I heard it, but I couldn’t get across the fence. I crossed the stream and found a low spot in the fence... and a major deer trail, which the deer had obviously left on, about 25 yards along. As soon as I crossed the fence I could see large gouges in the trail, which was soppy wet, everywhere its feet touched as it ran along the trail. Only about 35 yards along the trail I spotted the brown shape of the deer on the right a few feet and in the trash. An area of bright red arterial blood was nearby, and what I saw was not a small doe but a fat, mature and large-bodied 6-point buck. The entrance wound was clearly visible, right at the heart, and the ball had passed through. By God, I had done it, taken a deer with shredded cedar bark wadding, at a nice distance, and had hit it exactly where I intended, and on a rainy, humid day, all of which was a real test of my skills at managing a flintlock smoothbore in a historic way. If this were a final exam I would have aced it. I’ve walked up on a lot of downed deer, but few have given me the satisfaction that this one did.
I hiked back and brought the car, keeping in the grassy verge to keep from getting hung up. Took a lot of pictures, then spent the next 2+ hours hanging, skinning and de-boning the deer, as usual. Corn-fed and fat as a butterball. My game hoist is a real winner, after I find a proper horizontal place to hang it, which wasn’t easy, today. Examination of the heart showed I hit it dead center through both ventricles. Strangely, there was also a large, deep gouge across the bottom of the right ventricle, almost deep enough to get into the cavity. The ball must have carried a piece of rib along, or possible the ball split. The lower part of both lungs were filled with blood, like liver, but I saw no actual punctures in them. I think it was the pressure wave… aka hydrostatic shock... from impact of that big ball.
The antlers were of average size, symmetrical, with fairly stout main beams and a lot of knobby. Good bosses. I took the entire head home to extract the antlers in daylight. By now it was past the 1727 sunset and getting fairly dark. I had been hearing water trickle while cleaning the buck, so I hiked a few yards to the little stream and found a fairyland pool, 12 feet across, crystal-clear water, with a little waterfall at the upper end and a beautiful weathered and moss-covered old cedar fallen over the outlet. I washed myself and my knife, promised myself I’d come back for pictures of the spot, a special place to me now.
A splendid hunt, a very successful experiment with the smoothbore, a lot of hard work for an old man and a nice early birthday present for my 78th, only 2 days away. One of these deer hunts is going to be my last, and I would almost be willing to make this that one. Almost.
Also, and not a trivial matter, my venison supply is assured for another year. I didn’t do as thorough a job of extracting the meat from this one as usual, because I ran out of light, but I still brought home a lot of good chow.
An odd little fact occurred to me a couple of days after the hunt. On a scouting trip a few days before the hunt I had come to this spot and noticed a large cedar tree in the edge of the field near the corner. The bark was perfect for my wadding, so I collected quite a bit of it and shredded it when I got home. That was the bark I used to load the Carolina for this hunt, and the deer was no more than 10 yards beyond that tree when I shot it. The ball flew within 2-3 feet of that tree.
Spence
The preceding entry of an unsuccessful hunt ended like this…..
Nov. 20, 2011
The humidity during this hunt was 99-100% the whole time, yet when I dumped my prime at the car it was still perfectly dry, flowed like dry sand, and I hadn’t renewed it since 0645. It had spent almost 3 hours in the rain with only the cow’s knee covering it. One thing I did learn, your pan brush gets wet if you have it hanging on your shot pouch strap. Need to take one along in the pouch, keep it dry. Other than that, my wet weather preparations and gear were spot on. The cow’s knee worked perfectly, as usual, and I had run a bead of lube along the barrel-stock junction which kept the pan and lock dry. I was ready for them, if they had showed. I had really wanted to take a deer in the rain using cedar wadding, but it wasn’t to be.
Nov. 23, 2011
Well, actually, it was, or close enough. Great hunt, today, one of my best. Sort of an early 78th birthday present to myself. Arrived at 0620, temperature 45°, wind WNW at 10 mph, very dark, cloudy with drizzle and light fog. I was on stand in the NE corner of Keith’s woods by 0645, legal shooting time 0702, but it was so dark I didn’t prime until 0715. I was carrying the Jackie Brown Carolina 20-gauge flintlock smooth rifle loaded with 85 gr. FFFg Goex and a homemade .600” ball, using only shredded cedar bark wadding. Dressed modern and with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders for the wind. The drizzle was heavy enough I broke out my cow’s knee, had to use it periodically throughout the day even though it never rained hard. At 0745 I saw a flicker of motion to the left of the small cluster of trees at the corner, couldn’t tell if it was something alive or shreds of corn stalk being blown by the wind, which was happening fairly frequently. I watched intently and saw a deer come out from the right side of the cluster, walking steadily toward the long island. Large bodied, gray, and it walked like a buck, but it was still so dark I couldn’t see clearly. It stopped behind a tree with only its rump sticking out, about 45 yards away, its head down and apparently eating. I got ready, because it seemed to be heading toward the track between me and the long island, which would give me a shot. But, it stood there for a couple of minutes, and then apparently turned and walked east, toward the other end of long island, because it just faded away into the foggy haze, I never saw any sign of it again. Got the old heart pumping, warmed me up a bit, but that’s all. That was all the excitement in the morning. I sat until 1100, then walked through Keith’s woods to the car. I had parked up by the house, because the ground was so very squishy-soft I didn’t think I dared go any farther. I napped, drank coffee, listened to classical music, munched on homemade black walnut fudge and ginger snaps until 1330 and hit it again. The temperature was steady at 48°, wind had gradually decreased throughout the day to about 6 mph, so I left the blanket behind. Tandy had told of seeing two groups of deer in the 9-acre field near Harts line, one of two bucks and eight does, the other of 16 does, and both had gone into the cedar thicket at 1600-1700, so I decided to set up in the thicket for the afternoon hunt. I found a likely spot about 25-30 yards inside the northern boundary and about the same distance from Hart’s fence to the east. A double-trunk tree growing in the edge of an under-wash or sinkhole and with a huge grapevine, at least 4” in diameter, was situated just right, and I spent 5 minutes clearing the ground and brush for a stand. I settled into it at about 1410. I had a good view of the corner of the corn field, which had been cut, and of the entire part of Hart’s line in the cedar thicket. The small stream ran between me and the field, leaving a sort of single row of trees and a lot of weeds between the stream and the field. I hadn’t been sitting there 20 minutes when a deer suddenly appeared in the corner and began feeding on the corn. It appeared to be a small doe, but there was so much brush and briars between us at the edge of the field I could never get a fair view. There were a few narrow clear shooting lanes, and it occasionally moved across one of them, but never when turned into a position for a shot. I got my knee up, cocked my gun and took the position. It fed there for 10 minutes, then began to wander further into the field. It then reversed itself, fed back to where it had been, wandered a bit to the left, then began to walk straight west along the edge of the woods. There were several possible shooting lanes, and I lined up on the best of them. It walked into the lane, which was only about half its length wide, and was going steadily on. Up till this point I wasn’t sure I would take the shot, it looked so small through the briars. The deer was at about 40 yards, I had a good rest, I had shot 1.5” groups with this cedar bark wadding at 35 yards….but it looked so small. I had promised myself I would take any deer which presented a shot, though, even a fawn, since I was handicapped by the cedar wadding, so I aimed at low center chest and fired. Ignition was immediate, even though I had primed more than 7 hours before, the humidity was almost 100% and it had rained intermittently throughout the day. The wind cleared the smoke quickly, for a change, and I saw the deer whirl and run toward Hart’s line, disappearing in a couple of leaps. I watched along the line it had been on, listened for any sounds of its passage, and heard a kind of grunt at what would have been 50 yards along its path. I thought that sounded like a death grunt, but couldn’t be sure. I took my time about reloading, then tried to cut across the triangle to reach the spot where I thought I heard it, but I couldn’t get across the fence. I crossed the stream and found a low spot in the fence... and a major deer trail, which the deer had obviously left on, about 25 yards along. As soon as I crossed the fence I could see large gouges in the trail, which was soppy wet, everywhere its feet touched as it ran along the trail. Only about 35 yards along the trail I spotted the brown shape of the deer on the right a few feet and in the trash. An area of bright red arterial blood was nearby, and what I saw was not a small doe but a fat, mature and large-bodied 6-point buck. The entrance wound was clearly visible, right at the heart, and the ball had passed through. By God, I had done it, taken a deer with shredded cedar bark wadding, at a nice distance, and had hit it exactly where I intended, and on a rainy, humid day, all of which was a real test of my skills at managing a flintlock smoothbore in a historic way. If this were a final exam I would have aced it. I’ve walked up on a lot of downed deer, but few have given me the satisfaction that this one did.
I hiked back and brought the car, keeping in the grassy verge to keep from getting hung up. Took a lot of pictures, then spent the next 2+ hours hanging, skinning and de-boning the deer, as usual. Corn-fed and fat as a butterball. My game hoist is a real winner, after I find a proper horizontal place to hang it, which wasn’t easy, today. Examination of the heart showed I hit it dead center through both ventricles. Strangely, there was also a large, deep gouge across the bottom of the right ventricle, almost deep enough to get into the cavity. The ball must have carried a piece of rib along, or possible the ball split. The lower part of both lungs were filled with blood, like liver, but I saw no actual punctures in them. I think it was the pressure wave… aka hydrostatic shock... from impact of that big ball.
The antlers were of average size, symmetrical, with fairly stout main beams and a lot of knobby. Good bosses. I took the entire head home to extract the antlers in daylight. By now it was past the 1727 sunset and getting fairly dark. I had been hearing water trickle while cleaning the buck, so I hiked a few yards to the little stream and found a fairyland pool, 12 feet across, crystal-clear water, with a little waterfall at the upper end and a beautiful weathered and moss-covered old cedar fallen over the outlet. I washed myself and my knife, promised myself I’d come back for pictures of the spot, a special place to me now.
A splendid hunt, a very successful experiment with the smoothbore, a lot of hard work for an old man and a nice early birthday present for my 78th, only 2 days away. One of these deer hunts is going to be my last, and I would almost be willing to make this that one. Almost.
Also, and not a trivial matter, my venison supply is assured for another year. I didn’t do as thorough a job of extracting the meat from this one as usual, because I ran out of light, but I still brought home a lot of good chow.
An odd little fact occurred to me a couple of days after the hunt. On a scouting trip a few days before the hunt I had come to this spot and noticed a large cedar tree in the edge of the field near the corner. The bark was perfect for my wadding, so I collected quite a bit of it and shredded it when I got home. That was the bark I used to load the Carolina for this hunt, and the deer was no more than 10 yards beyond that tree when I shot it. The ball flew within 2-3 feet of that tree.
Spence
