Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Smoothbore Button Buck

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The sun was rising in the east, brightening up the live oak woodlot that I had seen many deer in over the last few years. I pulled my worn woodsmans frock tighter around me and was glad I decided to wear my wool weskit and wool stockings this day.

It was cold winter morning in Texas, the frost was heavy on the grass and fallen leaves and a film of ice was evident on the depressions that held water from the snow on Christmas Eve. I slowly moved through the assorted live oak trees and ducked under a rail fence that separated one pasture from the other.

Moving slowly along the creek, I spied a small flock of wood ducks feeding in one of the deeper pools along Whiterock Creek. These pools are formed by the spring and fall flood water rushing over the soft limestone rock. I watched them for several moments before I moved on, at this movement the small flock lifted off the still water of the pool, leaving small ripples in their wake.

As I walked towards the pond near the back of the woodlot, I stopped and listened, squirrels were chattering and I heard a hoot owl and my gaze turned to the big snag that the owl had called his home for a while now. Across the dry leaves I carefully walked along a cut that would bring me close to the convergence of three small deer trails that have been heavily used lately. As I walked, I heard some brush breaking and stopped and listened, looking in the direction that the sound had originated from. I found myself wishing I was near the small deadfall that I had made into a makeshift blind as I was sure the sound was coming from the deer trail that was just below that, but alas I had gotten up a bit late this morning. I carefully continued on my way, taking a couple steps, stopping and listening for a span of time before continuing with this pattern as I moved down the old road toward the pond.

My fowler rested comfortably cradled in the crook of my arm, my powder horn and bag tucked high up under my right arm.

A light mist was rising off the pond to my left and I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I slowly turned my head to see a small yearling deer standing in the open next to the seep about 50 or 60 yds in front of me. Slowly, I brought the fowler up and cocked "Ole Never Doubt." It seemed like an eternity to accomplish this simple and well practiced movement. I bought my fowler up and sighted down the barrel. Without thinking I held just above the right front shoulder at the top of the deer's back. I fired, the ka-boom report and hard shove of the fowler - reassured me that the 90 gr load was speeding the big 62 caliber ball on its way. I watched as the deer flinched and debris flew from near the deer, and disbelief as the deer ran up the hill with another and stood near the top of the pond bank.

I quickly poured powder and rammed a bare ball down the barrel as several unseen deer moved in front of me. I momentarily took my eyes off the deer as I put an overshot wad down the barrel and when I looked back up - both deer had moved off. I finished reloading and primed my fowler and went to see if I could find a blood trail. Nothing!

The woods had grown silent as I moved in a small circle along the meadow and woodlot, hoping to find a blood trail. The leaves were disturbed but I found no blood, and the passing of the close to eight other deer obscured the trail. As I expanded my circle outward, I saw several deer moving through the woods in front of me, but as I followed the trail through the blow downs and cedar it became very difficult to discern the tracks and I lost them near the creek.

I returned to my stables and kennel and got out one of the dogs, and was joined by my oldest child in the search. We returned to the pond where I last saw the deer and as I passed by a cut, there lay the deer not 20 yds from where I last saw him. The ball entered a bit farther back and evidently he was slightly quartered to me because the wound path angled forward with no exit wound and we were unable to recover the spent ball - the liver was destroyed.

This is the first deer, I have killed with a muzzleloader since the early 90s and the first with my fowler since I acquired it 2 yrs ago.

What a journey me and "Ole Never Doubt" have taken over the last 3 yrs. I acquired her from very good maker about 3 winters ago. She was a lovely little thing. Quick and well balanced, but for whatever reason she was tempermental driving me to distraction. First, her trigger pull was heavy, once I got that worked out, I found that she shot low and to the right. A bit of work with the file and she was shooting at the right elevation but still to the right. I tried moving the front sight, cutting a dovetail for a rear sight. Finally, one morning in the main room of the camp house. I took her barrel out and put it on two blocks of wood, and stood on it, bending the barrel to the left. That finally fixed windage and elevation problems. Then, after several wins in rifle and fusil matches with her and over one thousand rounds down the barrel. The lock started to occasionally fail to spark. After heat treating the frizzen and switching to black english and french amber flints she was sparking reliably.

As many young men are prone to do and some not so young men. A newer, and more appealing distraction came into my life. A fine early virginia 50 caliber rifle. And "Ole Never Doubt" found herself relegated to my gun closet, neglected. What made me choose her this day instead of the rifle only a higher being understands. But, in the end the familiarity and comfort she and I have developed over 3 years won out, and I am grateful I picked her up that day.

The little woodlot is a piece of paradise unlike any of the surrounding area. Much of the area around it is suburban housing developments along with large farms with horses and cattle grazing on Bermuda grass and fescue. No the little farm is special, that day as with most days. I am amazed at the variety and type of wildlife that calls our little farm home.

There are deer, turkeys, grey foxes, bobcat, oppossum, coyotes, raccoons, and even a beaver once in a while cruising the creek bottom and waterways on the farm. There are birds of wonderous variety, golden eagles, goshawks and red tailed hawks and even a small falcon or two, floating effortlessly on the air currents or roosting in the old pecan trees are often seen.

All on a little 88 acre piece of paradise, that I have mostly to myself. I am grateful for this blessing and even more so since on this day I decided to take "Ole Never Doubt" and she came through for me. Makes one wonder I ever doubted her.

Cheers

Dan'l Hickham

Monday, December 14, 2009

More success

We ran two puppies in the Hill Country PDC trial. Maggie was 2nd and Dolly was 4th

Keith - Posting from Under the Live Oak Trees

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Good showing this weekend

I entered four dogs in the Dallas Pointer and Setter Club trial at Wortham, TX.

In the Open Shooting dog I ran Tucker (Parrs Tucker) had a nice find, stood with the flush and the bird flew over his head and I fired he took 5-6 steps but I was able to stop him, unfortunately, it was a broke stake - but this dog has come a long ways and I am super happy with his effort today.

In the Open Derby - Cullen ran nice, a bit lateral and had 1 find and 2 non productives but finished strong and was awarded 3rd Place. Maggie ran a hard driving, forward race with two very nice finds. She finished strong and was awarded 1st Place.

In Open Puppy - Dolly ran a bit immature at first but picked up and ran a nice forward race with a nice find. She did not finish in the money - but it was a great effort and I look for more great things from her.

Keith - Posting from Under the Live Oak trees