moisanfan11
New member
Wondering what people had to say about they're muzzleloading and black powder experiences.
black powder stories
- Thread starter moisanfan11
- Start date
Went to the range one day....
Had to drive nearly an hour to get to the range, which was actually not a range just a permission to shoot in someone's field.
I have a table that I take along since there is no bench. Had to cut one of the legs because the ground was not level.
Day was a little windy so I got almost as much powder on the table and on the ground as I got in the chambers.
Took along a Colt Navy steel frame .44. The revolver swallowed a cap fragment and quit shooting. I didn't take along a good screwdriver to take it apart so it had to wait until I got home.
Went to my back-up (for the day) revolver which was an 1858 Remington in .44. Remingtons are so user friendly I had to stop shooting for about twenty minutes to ponder my reason for wanting to own Colts. The sight of the lame Colt with the cap fragment in the works was not much help. Finally decided that I like them and that is reason enough.
Ran out of my home recipe lube and found a half used tube of Thompson's Bore Butter in my shooting box. I reluctantly used it and was reminded why I hate it so much. The odor of the Bore Butter attracted the attention of the local EPA wheeny. Had to fend off the EPA communist who wanted to charge me with poluting the atmosphere. Only thing that saved me was that I convinced the constable that the awful smell of the bore butter was more than offset by the smell of burned black powder.
Its fortunate he did not see the burned area in the field in front of my shooting table. He'd have brought in the fire marshall.
Finally burned off about seventy rounds.
Had to stop shooting early because a wide round cut the PVC pipe on the side of my target stand which immediately slumped to its final reward. "Happy Trails, old friend!" How do you field dress a target stand? Ever try target stand jerky?
Got black soot on my face and hands. My wife asked if I was trying to join her race. (She is African American)
Got Bore Butter all over the steering wheel of my truck
Looking at about an hour of cleaning and baking the two revolvers and that is only after I get the cap out of the Colt. (20 minutes of that time is spent convincing the wife it is a good idea to wash revolvers in the kitchen sink and then baking them in the oven. I told her that if I baked the target stand, it would create a terrible stink in the kitchen.)
After reading this it should be crystal clear why I love this so much.
Had to drive nearly an hour to get to the range, which was actually not a range just a permission to shoot in someone's field.
I have a table that I take along since there is no bench. Had to cut one of the legs because the ground was not level.
Day was a little windy so I got almost as much powder on the table and on the ground as I got in the chambers.
Took along a Colt Navy steel frame .44. The revolver swallowed a cap fragment and quit shooting. I didn't take along a good screwdriver to take it apart so it had to wait until I got home.
Went to my back-up (for the day) revolver which was an 1858 Remington in .44. Remingtons are so user friendly I had to stop shooting for about twenty minutes to ponder my reason for wanting to own Colts. The sight of the lame Colt with the cap fragment in the works was not much help. Finally decided that I like them and that is reason enough.
Ran out of my home recipe lube and found a half used tube of Thompson's Bore Butter in my shooting box. I reluctantly used it and was reminded why I hate it so much. The odor of the Bore Butter attracted the attention of the local EPA wheeny. Had to fend off the EPA communist who wanted to charge me with poluting the atmosphere. Only thing that saved me was that I convinced the constable that the awful smell of the bore butter was more than offset by the smell of burned black powder.
Its fortunate he did not see the burned area in the field in front of my shooting table. He'd have brought in the fire marshall.
Finally burned off about seventy rounds.
Had to stop shooting early because a wide round cut the PVC pipe on the side of my target stand which immediately slumped to its final reward. "Happy Trails, old friend!" How do you field dress a target stand? Ever try target stand jerky?
Got black soot on my face and hands. My wife asked if I was trying to join her race. (She is African American)
Got Bore Butter all over the steering wheel of my truck
Looking at about an hour of cleaning and baking the two revolvers and that is only after I get the cap out of the Colt. (20 minutes of that time is spent convincing the wife it is a good idea to wash revolvers in the kitchen sink and then baking them in the oven. I told her that if I baked the target stand, it would create a terrible stink in the kitchen.)
After reading this it should be crystal clear why I love this so much.
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deerslayer303
New member
Great Story Doc. I spit out some coffee when you got to the convincing your wife its a good idea to clean the revolvers in the sink and bake them in the oven! I have so many times had to contend with SWMBO (she who must be obeyed) about doing various projects in the kitchen! I have learned its just easier to stink up the house when she is at work hehe.brazosdave
New member
Awesome story! Gave me a good chuckle this morning! Happy New Year!
I went last Thursday to Angeles, an hour drive.
And managed to get everything together and shot 12 rounds each on the Colt and Remington Piettas. They have a front and back table. Load at the back table, and cap at the front, then shoot.
No problems whatsoever.
Yesterday another hour drive to Burro Canyon. There was an old picnic table and I brought a table. I got 18 rounds each. The Colt did jam on one spent cap, but pulling the wedge and freeing it took about 20 seconds.
The Remington didn't jam, but I did have 2 caps that didn't fire on the first shot.
Why that happened, I don't know. They did fire on the second shot.
And then about 2 hours of cleaning last night.
But that is part of what it's all about.
dc
And managed to get everything together and shot 12 rounds each on the Colt and Remington Piettas. They have a front and back table. Load at the back table, and cap at the front, then shoot.
No problems whatsoever.
Yesterday another hour drive to Burro Canyon. There was an old picnic table and I brought a table. I got 18 rounds each. The Colt did jam on one spent cap, but pulling the wedge and freeing it took about 20 seconds.
The Remington didn't jam, but I did have 2 caps that didn't fire on the first shot.
Why that happened, I don't know. They did fire on the second shot.
And then about 2 hours of cleaning last night.
But that is part of what it's all about.
dc
One gun, Salute !!!
I've been into M/L's since the "Big-Whale" was a Guppy. Several years ago, I was a Scout Master and was conducting M/L demonstrations during summer camp. During one of our flag ceremonies, I was asked to fire, one salute. Well, could not fire my usual RB so was trying to figure out what to fire. Finally settled on a wad of aluminum foil and as the flag was being raised an we went to; hand-salute, I fired, up and away. .......
Soon after, we all stopped looking at the flag and noticed small shreds of foil floating down. It really all looked pretty neat and one kid commented that we should do it again. ....
Be Safe !!!
I've been into M/L's since the "Big-Whale" was a Guppy. Several years ago, I was a Scout Master and was conducting M/L demonstrations during summer camp. During one of our flag ceremonies, I was asked to fire, one salute. Well, could not fire my usual RB so was trying to figure out what to fire. Finally settled on a wad of aluminum foil and as the flag was being raised an we went to; hand-salute, I fired, up and away. .......
Soon after, we all stopped looking at the flag and noticed small shreds of foil floating down. It really all looked pretty neat and one kid commented that we should do it again. ....
Be Safe !!!
deerslayer303
New member
I'll have to try that!!
Now was this Heavy duty Reynolds Wrap Aluminum Foil?? And did you lube it?? HAHA!! I'll bet the look on the faces of everyone was priceless!!One day at the BP club (before it closed down), I brought along a new mule ear rifle that I had found for sale at a local shop long after it was discontinued.
After firing a small number of shots, the trigger broke and it wouldn't stay cocked. The gun was already loaded with a Buffalo Ball-et when it happened, so while aiming the rifle I asked my friend Pete to pull back on the mule ear hammer and to let it go when I gave the word so that the rifle would fire off and be empty.
It was awkward holding the rifle steady with Pete standing there holding the hammer outward. At some point he let go of it, the rifle fired and when the smoke cleared there was the shot just barely touching the bullseye of a 50 yard orange .22 target that was fixed to a paper plate.
So what if it was only at 25 yards. It was still the best shot that I ever made with a Ball-et and I don't know how it turned out so well.
That was the only shot on the target so I hung it up on my kitchen wall for many years because it was such a lucky shot, and because it reminded me about how you can get by with a little help from your friends, just like the name of the Beatles song.
After firing a small number of shots, the trigger broke and it wouldn't stay cocked. The gun was already loaded with a Buffalo Ball-et when it happened, so while aiming the rifle I asked my friend Pete to pull back on the mule ear hammer and to let it go when I gave the word so that the rifle would fire off and be empty.
It was awkward holding the rifle steady with Pete standing there holding the hammer outward. At some point he let go of it, the rifle fired and when the smoke cleared there was the shot just barely touching the bullseye of a 50 yard orange .22 target that was fixed to a paper plate.
So what if it was only at 25 yards. It was still the best shot that I ever made with a Ball-et and I don't know how it turned out so well.
That was the only shot on the target so I hung it up on my kitchen wall for many years because it was such a lucky shot, and because it reminded me about how you can get by with a little help from your friends, just like the name of the Beatles song.
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BP story
This story isn't as good as Doc's, but it's close!
Took Friday afternoon off as it was a beautiful day here in southern Michigan. Wanted to empty a couple BP pistols still loaded from deer season. Have a beautiful set-up here at the house. Back porch all glassed in, (the Antler Bar) nice shooting bench with a gun rest and can set a target, open the window and go for it.
My old yellow Lab (Carhartt) is blind now from Diabetes. He knows when I'm going to shoot or hunt. If he doesn't get to go he throws a fit. Whines, drools and wants to go! Amazing, I took him out Goose hunting earlier this year and he sat motionless until I fired. He took off out in the field like he was shot out of a cannon. Worked the field back and forth with his nose and brought the bird back to me. He was so proud of himself, if he could talk he would have said, "SEE... I STILL GOT IT"! Needless to say, I had him in the house while I was shooting. I could hear him whining and throwing a fit in there.
I emptied my ROA and 58 Remmy flawlessly. Shooting well too! A couple guys showed up and were watching. Went to load the ROA again and put in a bit too much cornmeal filler. Couldn't seat the ball far enough to clear the barrel. Had trouble getting the cylinder out as the ball was jammed against the barrel from me playing with it. Finally got the cylinder out. Removed the nipple, cleared the powder with a toothpick into the trash and went to tapping the ball back out with a dowel and a small mallet. Broke the dowel off inside the cylinder. Eventually got the ball out. The onlookers left out of boredom. Finally got loaded up again and shot another 6. The room was full of smoke (from shooting) and went to retrieve the target and put up a new one. Heading back to the house, noticed smoke billowing out the windows. Ran back and the trash can was on fire! One of my pals must have dumped a hot ashtray. Threw the trash can out in the yard and ran in the kitchen to get water to put the fire out. Didn't realize it but had stepped in dog poop and tracked it all over the house. In the meantime, Carhartt got so worked up from the gunshots, he pooped all over the kitchen floor.
Got the fire out, cleaned up my boots, all the dog poop and decided I'd had enough excitement for one day.
Birch
This story isn't as good as Doc's, but it's close!
Took Friday afternoon off as it was a beautiful day here in southern Michigan. Wanted to empty a couple BP pistols still loaded from deer season. Have a beautiful set-up here at the house. Back porch all glassed in, (the Antler Bar) nice shooting bench with a gun rest and can set a target, open the window and go for it.
My old yellow Lab (Carhartt) is blind now from Diabetes. He knows when I'm going to shoot or hunt. If he doesn't get to go he throws a fit. Whines, drools and wants to go! Amazing, I took him out Goose hunting earlier this year and he sat motionless until I fired. He took off out in the field like he was shot out of a cannon. Worked the field back and forth with his nose and brought the bird back to me. He was so proud of himself, if he could talk he would have said, "SEE... I STILL GOT IT"! Needless to say, I had him in the house while I was shooting. I could hear him whining and throwing a fit in there.
I emptied my ROA and 58 Remmy flawlessly. Shooting well too! A couple guys showed up and were watching. Went to load the ROA again and put in a bit too much cornmeal filler. Couldn't seat the ball far enough to clear the barrel. Had trouble getting the cylinder out as the ball was jammed against the barrel from me playing with it. Finally got the cylinder out. Removed the nipple, cleared the powder with a toothpick into the trash and went to tapping the ball back out with a dowel and a small mallet. Broke the dowel off inside the cylinder. Eventually got the ball out. The onlookers left out of boredom. Finally got loaded up again and shot another 6. The room was full of smoke (from shooting) and went to retrieve the target and put up a new one. Heading back to the house, noticed smoke billowing out the windows. Ran back and the trash can was on fire! One of my pals must have dumped a hot ashtray. Threw the trash can out in the yard and ran in the kitchen to get water to put the fire out. Didn't realize it but had stepped in dog poop and tracked it all over the house. In the meantime, Carhartt got so worked up from the gunshots, he pooped all over the kitchen floor.
Got the fire out, cleaned up my boots, all the dog poop and decided I'd had enough excitement for one day.
Birch
Overdoing a good thing !!!
This did not happen to me but instead, a very ggod friend. Back in my BuckSkinner days, we all had the Mountain-Man trappings. A friend of mine had it all and did not stop with the teepee. He had a horse who was also all decked out. He even trained the horse to hold, while he shot his M/L while mounted. He got so good that he rode in local, small town parades.
In one such parade, he could not take the usual side-shot, so he pointed the muzzle out between the horses ears. .... Yep !!!
Next thing he remembers, was laying on the ground, looking up at the horse and folks asking if he was all right ....
Be Safe !!!
This did not happen to me but instead, a very ggod friend. Back in my BuckSkinner days, we all had the Mountain-Man trappings. A friend of mine had it all and did not stop with the teepee. He had a horse who was also all decked out. He even trained the horse to hold, while he shot his M/L while mounted. He got so good that he rode in local, small town parades.
In one such parade, he could not take the usual side-shot, so he pointed the muzzle out between the horses ears. .... Yep !!!
Next thing he remembers, was laying on the ground, looking up at the horse and folks asking if he was all right ....
Be Safe !!!
Stop me if you've heard this before. Oh, that's right. You can't.
I posted this about 3 years ago, so maybe some of you have forgotten (you know, old age, etc...)
I've only been at this 30 years, and hold no illusions about my ability to dryball - I can do it any time, any place, for no good reason at all. But this was a new experience:
Technically it wasn't actually a dryball, as there was a full load of powder under the ball. But it wasn't a proper load either.
The gun was a .54 cal Lyman GPR flintlock. I had taken 4 shots and swabbed after each. I carefully measured 70 grains of ffg Goex and poured it down the barrel. There were no distractions; all the onlookers knew not to talk to me during the loading process. I picked up and carefully separated a single 0.015" lubed patch, placed it on the muzzle. I picked up a 0.530 round ball and placed it on the patch, and noticed that the patch was not well centered. So, I placed one finger on the ball to hold it steady. I took my thumb and forefinger on the other hand and carefully captured an edge of the patch and pulled it across the muzzle to center it. And promptly pulled it out from under the ball, which disappeared down the bore assisted, by my finger.
So now I have a full powder charge in the barrel along with a loose ball. Let's see, .530 ball, .540 bore, should fall right out, right? Nope. Wouldn't budge. Tapped the barrel on the carpet I use to protect the butt when loading. Nope, still no ball.
Ok, rammed the ball down all the way with the range rod, checked the mark, yep, full powder load and round ball. Primed the pan, got a flash, no boom. Great. Picked the touch hole, primed and tapped some 4f into the touch hole. Got another flash, but no boom. Now it's starting to rain.
Packed up the gear and went home. I'd shot 4 guns yesterday and decided to wait until after supper to clean them. I did the .54 flinter last, and decided to try to pull the ball. The timing is important because now it's about 11 pm. The ball came right out with very little effort. Normally I'd just wash the powder out with water, but something made me decide to shoot it out - after all, how much noise would some loose powder make?
It's not loose, stupid, it was compressed when you rammed the ball down. It's still compressed, stupid. 70 grains of compressed 2f out the back door across the lake at 11 pm is impressive. I swear the echo went on for 15 minutes. SWMBO had fallen asleep reading. I now have very clear instructions about how and when to clear bore obstructions. I know exactly how many neighbors I have that retire before 11 pm, and how far away you can hear 70 grains of 2f at 11 pm. I know that the odds of the only Sheriff's road patrol car on duty at 11pm being across the lake in view of my house at that precise moment are slim but not that slim. I have learned that it is a misdemeanor to discharge a firearm at my house, since, although it's an undeveloped rural area, it was platted as a subdivision in 1921 and the county considers it an urban area. He may have made that part up, but he didn't charge me and I'm not going to do it again in any case.
Sheesh. All I did was accidentally pull the darn patch out from under the ball...
In the cold light of day, it's clear that the deputy's civics lesson about misdemeanor firearms violations was embellished somewhat - there is an ordinance about discharging a firearm within 450 feet of a dwelling, which I did not violate because your own dwelling doesn't count. He just felt the need to vent, for some reason.
I don't really blame him for being upset and feeling the need to put the fear of 'Jurisprudence' (that's the nickname of the local lockup Bubba) into me. The lake is down in a bowl amongst some small hills. He was sitting at the top of a short boat ramp, lights out, watching for some kids that were up to some mischief. The flash and boom 'from out on the lake' scared him to death, and he'd completely lost his sense of humor (and perhaps even control of some bodily functions) at that point.
This morning I also realized that by stepping just outside the back door I was in an area completely surrounded on 5 sides by concrete, decking and house walls - in the middle of a big speaker cone pointed directly at the boat ramp on the other side of the lake. Did I mention the lake is in the bowl of surrounding hills? The deputy's reference to 105mm rounds makes a little more sense to me now.
Behind the garage would have been a much better idea. But, when that ball disappeared down that barrel it took my thinking material with it.
A gentleman on another forum has suggested an alternative scenario with respect to the officer's point of view.
I assumed the deputy was sitting in his car quietly watching for some kids doing mischief (we'd had a little bit of the upended outhouse type of shenanigans lately), and was just scared by the sudden flash and boom out of the darkness.
However, considering the already improbable lineup of events, why not add one more: the deputy was actually out of his car, down on the bank by the boat ramp attending to a little personal call, when, in the midst of a quiet commune with nature, KABOOOM!!.
It's possible. That might have colored his view of the event somewhat.
And then, a few days later:
I was in town for some errands today and went by the Sheriff's office to register a new unmentionable. The clerk on duty looked at my DL and said, "You're the guy that scared the #*%@! out of Deputy ______!" It seems the story is all over the county offices. Apparently the "alternate scenario" where he was out of the car and 'busy' down by the water is more than just possible. Seems I'm some kind of local folk hero.
The deputy did not mention my name, but the 911 calls did reference an address that the clerk recognized. He filed a report since the 911 dispatcher log showed his unit responded to their dispatch call. But the report was a 'no violation' report. The clerk put two and two together. She said the office 'coffeepot lawyers' agreed there was no violation as the gun wasn't actually loaded.
I posted this about 3 years ago, so maybe some of you have forgotten (you know, old age, etc...)
I've only been at this 30 years, and hold no illusions about my ability to dryball - I can do it any time, any place, for no good reason at all. But this was a new experience:
Technically it wasn't actually a dryball, as there was a full load of powder under the ball. But it wasn't a proper load either.
The gun was a .54 cal Lyman GPR flintlock. I had taken 4 shots and swabbed after each. I carefully measured 70 grains of ffg Goex and poured it down the barrel. There were no distractions; all the onlookers knew not to talk to me during the loading process. I picked up and carefully separated a single 0.015" lubed patch, placed it on the muzzle. I picked up a 0.530 round ball and placed it on the patch, and noticed that the patch was not well centered. So, I placed one finger on the ball to hold it steady. I took my thumb and forefinger on the other hand and carefully captured an edge of the patch and pulled it across the muzzle to center it. And promptly pulled it out from under the ball, which disappeared down the bore assisted, by my finger.
So now I have a full powder charge in the barrel along with a loose ball. Let's see, .530 ball, .540 bore, should fall right out, right? Nope. Wouldn't budge. Tapped the barrel on the carpet I use to protect the butt when loading. Nope, still no ball.
Ok, rammed the ball down all the way with the range rod, checked the mark, yep, full powder load and round ball. Primed the pan, got a flash, no boom. Great. Picked the touch hole, primed and tapped some 4f into the touch hole. Got another flash, but no boom. Now it's starting to rain.
Packed up the gear and went home. I'd shot 4 guns yesterday and decided to wait until after supper to clean them. I did the .54 flinter last, and decided to try to pull the ball. The timing is important because now it's about 11 pm. The ball came right out with very little effort. Normally I'd just wash the powder out with water, but something made me decide to shoot it out - after all, how much noise would some loose powder make?
It's not loose, stupid, it was compressed when you rammed the ball down. It's still compressed, stupid. 70 grains of compressed 2f out the back door across the lake at 11 pm is impressive. I swear the echo went on for 15 minutes. SWMBO had fallen asleep reading. I now have very clear instructions about how and when to clear bore obstructions. I know exactly how many neighbors I have that retire before 11 pm, and how far away you can hear 70 grains of 2f at 11 pm. I know that the odds of the only Sheriff's road patrol car on duty at 11pm being across the lake in view of my house at that precise moment are slim but not that slim. I have learned that it is a misdemeanor to discharge a firearm at my house, since, although it's an undeveloped rural area, it was platted as a subdivision in 1921 and the county considers it an urban area. He may have made that part up, but he didn't charge me and I'm not going to do it again in any case.
Sheesh. All I did was accidentally pull the darn patch out from under the ball...
In the cold light of day, it's clear that the deputy's civics lesson about misdemeanor firearms violations was embellished somewhat - there is an ordinance about discharging a firearm within 450 feet of a dwelling, which I did not violate because your own dwelling doesn't count. He just felt the need to vent, for some reason.
I don't really blame him for being upset and feeling the need to put the fear of 'Jurisprudence' (that's the nickname of the local lockup Bubba) into me. The lake is down in a bowl amongst some small hills. He was sitting at the top of a short boat ramp, lights out, watching for some kids that were up to some mischief. The flash and boom 'from out on the lake' scared him to death, and he'd completely lost his sense of humor (and perhaps even control of some bodily functions) at that point.
This morning I also realized that by stepping just outside the back door I was in an area completely surrounded on 5 sides by concrete, decking and house walls - in the middle of a big speaker cone pointed directly at the boat ramp on the other side of the lake. Did I mention the lake is in the bowl of surrounding hills? The deputy's reference to 105mm rounds makes a little more sense to me now.
Behind the garage would have been a much better idea. But, when that ball disappeared down that barrel it took my thinking material with it.
A gentleman on another forum has suggested an alternative scenario with respect to the officer's point of view.
I assumed the deputy was sitting in his car quietly watching for some kids doing mischief (we'd had a little bit of the upended outhouse type of shenanigans lately), and was just scared by the sudden flash and boom out of the darkness.
However, considering the already improbable lineup of events, why not add one more: the deputy was actually out of his car, down on the bank by the boat ramp attending to a little personal call, when, in the midst of a quiet commune with nature, KABOOOM!!.
It's possible. That might have colored his view of the event somewhat.
And then, a few days later:
I was in town for some errands today and went by the Sheriff's office to register a new unmentionable. The clerk on duty looked at my DL and said, "You're the guy that scared the #*%@! out of Deputy ______!" It seems the story is all over the county offices. Apparently the "alternate scenario" where he was out of the car and 'busy' down by the water is more than just possible. Seems I'm some kind of local folk hero.
The deputy did not mention my name, but the 911 calls did reference an address that the clerk recognized. He filed a report since the 911 dispatcher log showed his unit responded to their dispatch call. But the report was a 'no violation' report. The clerk put two and two together. She said the office 'coffeepot lawyers' agreed there was no violation as the gun wasn't actually loaded.
Its rainin like heck here...I'm starting to wonder if somebody around here is loading up an ark and I don't know about it yet...but anyways I managed to get off 18 shots on friday before the rain started and ever since I've been stuck in the house watching my yard get soggier and soggier. My dog is even giving me a look and I think she blames me for the rain since I was out shooting just before the flood started.
So the only way to get my bp fix is sitting here reading about it, I run across this thread and go fix me a nice cup of coffee and start reading about doc hoy baking his revolver in the oven, pahoos aluminum foil blank shot, birchorrs overload set the trash on fire track dog poop all over the house adventure, and mykeals dryball of the year cluster. So I've spit coffee on my monitor twice and had to explain to my wife what I've been laughing at and why mykeals rifle wasn't ""actually" loaded. The dog is still giving me a look and its still raining like heck. Course in 8 years of shooting bp revolvers I've never dryballed, or loaded too much powder in a chamber and couldn't seat the ball or anything like that...
Stepping in dog poop is another story though...
So the only way to get my bp fix is sitting here reading about it, I run across this thread and go fix me a nice cup of coffee and start reading about doc hoy baking his revolver in the oven, pahoos aluminum foil blank shot, birchorrs overload set the trash on fire track dog poop all over the house adventure, and mykeals dryball of the year cluster. So I've spit coffee on my monitor twice and had to explain to my wife what I've been laughing at and why mykeals rifle wasn't ""actually" loaded. The dog is still giving me a look and its still raining like heck. Course in 8 years of shooting bp revolvers I've never dryballed, or loaded too much powder in a chamber and couldn't seat the ball or anything like that...
Stepping in dog poop is another story though...
deerslayer303
New member
Oh my gosh, I'm cracking up over here. Mykeal that story is Hillarious!!! Keep em coming guys. I used to think quality entertainment was going to walmart, but I'll stay home, crack open a Sam Adams and read this stuff!!
My First Experience with BP:
In the spring of 1980, when I was 15, I went back to see my family in Western Kentucky, in the ‘Land Between The Lakes.’ During the vist, we drove out to my great grandfather Jesse Schoaler’s place, between Gracie and Cadiz, Kentucky.
Jesse stood 6 feet tall and weighted about 175 pounds. He was slim and agile. His white hair was full and his black and blue checkered flannel long sleeve and jeans were clean and free of wrinkles. Jesse, who died in 1983 at the age of 103, and I were sitting on the front porch swing looking out across the field of sunflowers across the highway. A vast expanse of woods flowed across the land, behind the sunflower fields, and up a hill on his property.
Jesse had a .50 Hawken leaned up against the porch post, loaded and capped. As we were talking, he leaned over and pointed out to the sunflower field. He said with a grin, looking at me over his black framed glasses, “Young Billy, take up that musket and harvest me that tall flower a yonder.”
I sat in disbelief and asked him what he meant. Laughing, he said, “Fetch that rifle and pluck me that yonder sunflower with a musketball…that is, of course, if you think you can.”
I had never fired a black powder arm before, but had done a lot of shooting with my Remington Model 510 Targetmaster, so all I needed was a little instruction. Jesse explained how pulling the rear trigger set the front for a light pull. I took up the rifle, leaned against the carved porch post and drew a bead on the stalk, probably 50-75 yards away.
Once I had a good sight picture, I pulled the rear trigger and moved my finger to the front trigger. Easing into the trigger I was rewarded with a surprise release and a thunderous boom and cloud of putrid white smoke.
Jesse chuckled and then said, “Behold! Yonder flower stands fast! You need some more practice young Billy!”
About this time, the big sunflower swayed a bit to the right and then fell to the ground with a dusty cloud.
I smiled proudly.
Jesse leaned forward and squinted, then laughed and said, “Well I’ll be dammed young Billy, I’ve been trying to do that for 60 years!”
About this time, great grandma called us to the table for lunch.
I enjoyed that visit immensely…
In the spring of 1980, when I was 15, I went back to see my family in Western Kentucky, in the ‘Land Between The Lakes.’ During the vist, we drove out to my great grandfather Jesse Schoaler’s place, between Gracie and Cadiz, Kentucky.
Jesse stood 6 feet tall and weighted about 175 pounds. He was slim and agile. His white hair was full and his black and blue checkered flannel long sleeve and jeans were clean and free of wrinkles. Jesse, who died in 1983 at the age of 103, and I were sitting on the front porch swing looking out across the field of sunflowers across the highway. A vast expanse of woods flowed across the land, behind the sunflower fields, and up a hill on his property.
Jesse had a .50 Hawken leaned up against the porch post, loaded and capped. As we were talking, he leaned over and pointed out to the sunflower field. He said with a grin, looking at me over his black framed glasses, “Young Billy, take up that musket and harvest me that tall flower a yonder.”
I sat in disbelief and asked him what he meant. Laughing, he said, “Fetch that rifle and pluck me that yonder sunflower with a musketball…that is, of course, if you think you can.”
I had never fired a black powder arm before, but had done a lot of shooting with my Remington Model 510 Targetmaster, so all I needed was a little instruction. Jesse explained how pulling the rear trigger set the front for a light pull. I took up the rifle, leaned against the carved porch post and drew a bead on the stalk, probably 50-75 yards away.
Once I had a good sight picture, I pulled the rear trigger and moved my finger to the front trigger. Easing into the trigger I was rewarded with a surprise release and a thunderous boom and cloud of putrid white smoke.
Jesse chuckled and then said, “Behold! Yonder flower stands fast! You need some more practice young Billy!”
About this time, the big sunflower swayed a bit to the right and then fell to the ground with a dusty cloud.
I smiled proudly.
Jesse leaned forward and squinted, then laughed and said, “Well I’ll be dammed young Billy, I’ve been trying to do that for 60 years!”
About this time, great grandma called us to the table for lunch.
I enjoyed that visit immensely…