Entering that fall mindset
And so the summer of theater now morphs into the fall of the hunter-gatherer.
We finished up the three-week run of Camelot yesterday at the Ashtabula Arts Center with the best-by-far performance of the run. Energy was up, characterization was strong and, for a change, most of the lines were as written by the playwright. Result: A truly deserved standing ovation. The big “Fie on Goodness” dance scene was rocking.
Now I shift into my fall mindset…something approaching the raucous Ted Nugent “Kill ‘Em and Grill ‘Em” worldview, sans the need to shout to the masses.
It’s hunting time…come early this year thanks to the present I gave my father for his birthday…a Russian Boar/Deer in Velvet combo hunt in way-down-south-and-swampy
I’ve opted to go with a .257 Weatherby Mark V, Savage 16 weather warrior in .300 wsm and a Ruger 77 Mark 2 Mannlicher in .308 (more on this later.) Dad is taking his Remington 700 muzzleloader and his crossbow and may borrow one of my rifles.
We’re allowed a deer and a boar (or two boar) each day of the hunt. Minimum size for deer to be taken is 16” antler spread. We’ll be hunting at the Bostick Plantation in
Anyway, at the range I shot the .308 for the first time – I had it bore sighted at
My father brought two different muzzleloader bullets of the same weight to try. First shot: 4” high at 50 yards and 3” left. Next shot: off the paper. What!?! Next shot 3” high, 2” left. Fourth shot: 18” to the right.
Now I know Dad shakes a little bit, but that was ridiculous.
We moved the target back to 100 yards. Dad’s first shot: Centered, 2” high. The next shot hit the ground at least 30 yards short of the target! Apparently Dad had been alternating the muzzleloader bullets when shooting – one brand of bullet was flying true while the other brand was taking off in random directions. My son and I also shot the gun with the suspect bullets – my shot hit about 30 feet to the right of the target and my son’s shot was about 9 feet too high.
I never saw anything like it…the only thing I can figure is that the two part sabots for the bullets were breaking when Dad loaded the not-too-clean gun and so the bullets were coming out of the barrel sideways and flying in random directions. I made that frugal son-of-the-Depression throw those bullets in the nearest garbage can.
I’ll post results of the hunt next weekend.
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