Pennsylvania Game News - January 2020 - 21

to hold on the target and through the shot
- not that I expected things to be easy,
especially when shooting offhand.
I felt somewhat out of place in my
Gore-Tex-jacket and blaze orange cap,
and he in traditional garb. And I was in
awe of the long-barreled beauty he'd take
into the field. A dozen brass tacks, each
representing a harvest, were tapped snugly
into its hand-crafted maple stock.
Eager to add such decoration to my
muzzleloader, we left for our hunting spot,
where we'd take turns pushing thickets to
one another, hoping to move deer.
I took a stand first, and while my partner jumped some deer, none came past.
We switched roles in near-blizzard
conditions, and I made my way across an
open area, scattered with pines, shielding
the muzzleloader's frizzen and pan with
a gloved hand, and routinely changing
the powder when I thought it might have
become wet.
Suddenly, deer rose from their beds
and ran off, heading for a nearby ravine.
I hustled to cut them off, but as I reached
the edge, lungs burning from the cold, tails
were bobbing safely out of sight.
Moving up the edge of the ravine, I
peeked over the rim to see a doe looking
back, 30 yards away.
I raised my rifle, quickly cocked the
hammer and squeezed the trigger with
renewed confidence. After a slight hangfire, the gun went off and the deer ran.
I was certain I'd hit it, but before I
could look for blood, more deer were
approaching.
All three of them were bucks, the
last one a perfect 10-point. He stopped
at slingshot range, scanned me and the
empty gun and bolted into the squall.
Meanwhile, by the time I confirmed
my shot at the doe had hit only a sapling,
I heard a muzzleloader's telltale KAJANUARY 2020

KA-BOOM. My friend would be adding
another brass tack to his rifle to represent
the fine, fat doe he'd just taken.
Still looking for my first brass tack,
I practiced even harder heading into the
following season, working to rid myself
of the flinching I felt was responsible for
at least some of my misses.
But early in the season, I missed a deer
at rock-throwing range. Then my friend
called to suggest we hunt the same block
of woods where I'd seen the 10-point the
previous year.
It was a perfect, bluebird afternoon
with 6 inches of fresh snow.
But in a few, short hours, I missed two
seemingly easy shots. And as I moved to
an oak grove, my frustration reached the
boiling point.
Just minutes after I settled in, though,
a group of deer came running in behind
me. I bleated, and two of them stopped,
about 50 yards off.
This time, I steadied the rifle's stock
against the side of a tree and, fighting off
the flinch, concentrated on the lead deer.
I squeezed the trigger, the gun roared
and when the smoke cleared, a doe was
lying motionless in the snow.
At long last, my disappointment had
come to an end.
A few weeks later, I walked to the
mailbox and retrieved an envelope with
no return address.
Inside it was a single brass tack.
I proudly embedded it in my rifle's
stock as a lasting reminder of my first
flintlock deer and all I went through to
get it. And I'm happy to say, other tacks
have formed a line behind it, demonstrating how easy it is to become hooked on
flintlock hunting and how shooting flaws
can be corrected with practice.
21
Pennsylvania Game News - January 2020

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