In an attempt to not derail others threads explaining further the all out evil nature of muzzleloaders and those who use them I decided to tell a story and add a PSA. As a young man growing up I took up every form of hunting I could. I hunted deer with bows and rifles and as fate would have it…. A muzzleloader. At the age of 14 I was swindled by a neighbor that told me a muzzleloader was an effective weapon to hunt with. The same time period there was a buck in the area dubbed the “Hartford Buck”. Everyone had seen him, conservative guesses placed him as the new world record typical white-tail falling in that 230” area. All the hours men spent chasing that buck and only 1 person ever got a chance at him……….
On December 13, 2003 a muzzleloader turned the trajectory of my life around, from rising hunting superstar to woeful pathetic curmudgeon. Mid morning that day my dad was making his rounds checking cattle when he seen the buck with about 20 does bedded along a creek near the cows. He came home to get me and my new muzzleloader. I snuck a hedgerow downwind of where the buck was and waited. Barley an hour had passed and the does were starting down the tree line right to me, world record buck in tow. My heart was pounding, I imagined my face on outdoor life, all of my dads hunting buddies carrying me on their shoulders like I just scored the game winning touchdown. There would be a parade in my honor, streets renamed, and women throwing themselves at me. Finally the moment came, the lead doe was 10 steps from me, the buck about 50 yards. I put the iron sights right on his heart, took a deep breath………….. then pop. The percussion cap snapped but nothing else, I fumble for another cap, the deer not sure what’s happening, again snap. Panic now sets in as the deer start moving. Visions of the beautiful girls at my high school lining up to date me were fading! As I get the 3rd cap on I line up on a now moving target at 100 yards and snap………boom. As I wait the mandatory 10 minutes for the smoke to clear, obstructing any view I would have had to determine a hit everything was gone. No blood, no hair, nothing. My dad drove up to me and explained he watched the whole thing and it was a clean miss. The buck ran into the deep dark timber behind our farm never to be seen in the daylight again.
So instead of being a hunting celebrity on IG and YouTube, with banquets and parties thrown in my honor, sailing catamarans around the Caribbean with scantily clad IG models basking in the sun all around me. I’m just a commoner, a nobody, typing a sob story on an online forum to others like him.
Remember, friends don’t let friends muzzleloader hunt. In the immortal words of Nancy Reagan “when it comes to muzzleloaders; just say no”
On December 13, 2003 a muzzleloader turned the trajectory of my life around, from rising hunting superstar to woeful pathetic curmudgeon. Mid morning that day my dad was making his rounds checking cattle when he seen the buck with about 20 does bedded along a creek near the cows. He came home to get me and my new muzzleloader. I snuck a hedgerow downwind of where the buck was and waited. Barley an hour had passed and the does were starting down the tree line right to me, world record buck in tow. My heart was pounding, I imagined my face on outdoor life, all of my dads hunting buddies carrying me on their shoulders like I just scored the game winning touchdown. There would be a parade in my honor, streets renamed, and women throwing themselves at me. Finally the moment came, the lead doe was 10 steps from me, the buck about 50 yards. I put the iron sights right on his heart, took a deep breath………….. then pop. The percussion cap snapped but nothing else, I fumble for another cap, the deer not sure what’s happening, again snap. Panic now sets in as the deer start moving. Visions of the beautiful girls at my high school lining up to date me were fading! As I get the 3rd cap on I line up on a now moving target at 100 yards and snap………boom. As I wait the mandatory 10 minutes for the smoke to clear, obstructing any view I would have had to determine a hit everything was gone. No blood, no hair, nothing. My dad drove up to me and explained he watched the whole thing and it was a clean miss. The buck ran into the deep dark timber behind our farm never to be seen in the daylight again.
So instead of being a hunting celebrity on IG and YouTube, with banquets and parties thrown in my honor, sailing catamarans around the Caribbean with scantily clad IG models basking in the sun all around me. I’m just a commoner, a nobody, typing a sob story on an online forum to others like him.
Remember, friends don’t let friends muzzleloader hunt. In the immortal words of Nancy Reagan “when it comes to muzzleloaders; just say no”
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states are saying a CVA scout 35whelen is a primitive weapon now ! Any in-line is the devils fruit now days ( if it shoots 1 moa @ 100 it’s not really a primitive)
