Unexpected Christmas Gifts

I'd planned on going shooting with some of my family on Christmas Eve.  After an unsuccessful duck hunt I gathered up my son, my brother, and my soon to be cousin-in-law and headed to the shooting spot by the dump.  We shot the AR-15, the 15-22, and for the first time that I've owned it the Mosin Nagant.

In order to be accurate, the bayonet was affixed.  The fact that some previous shooters had left a rather large and only slightly shot SpongeBob was an unexpected early Christmas gift.  After poking several 7.62 mm holes in SB, my son was given the honor of finishing the poor sponge off.



One would think he'd been hanging out with Jay G

First Time

The next several days of of hunting involved going into the high places looking for bull elk.  No one had any luck finding a legal bull.  Several of us saw a big 2X2 bull, but he didn't have brow tines and therefore wasn't legal.  On Tuesday the snow started flying.  Against better judgment we all went out hoping that the snow would let up and we could find elk.  I gave up sure that I would be the first one back in camp.  As it turned out I was the last.

On my way back into camp I saw a weasel, completely white in his winter coat carrying his lunch, a small vole.  When he saw me he dropped the vole (already very dead) and ran off.  To this day I
wonder how many other people on the planet have seen something similar.  If someone were to ask me why I enjoy hunting so much, the story would likely involve Mr. Weasel.

The next day broke with clear skies and the possibility of tracking elk in the fresh snow.  I finally got to hunt the West side of the mountain and took my wife with me.  She had hunted hard and not too far up the mountain ran out of steam.  She elected to sit in a good spot, overlooking a decent amount of the mountain.  Not coincidentally, she was sitting where I had killed my first elk on the mountain.

I chose to hike higher up the mountain, following the trail past the archery hunters' blind, higher and higher until I cut elk tracks.  I followed  the tracks until, for some reason, my gut told me to leave them and walk out towards a rock outcropping.  As I reached the outcropping, I heard and then saw the elk that I had been following.  He was 50 yards away, but his head was hidden behind some brush.  He had no idea that I had dropped in below him, and was feeding peacefully.  Unfortunately, due to his feeding and the brush between his head and me I could not tell if he was a legal bull.  After about three minutes of watching him both through my rifle scope and binoculars I finally decided he was legal.

The next 30 seconds were tied up in me figuring out how to make a clean shot.  His shoulders were hidden behind the brush.  I was forced to take a shot further back on the front side that angled towards his back shoulder.  Having selected my shot, I shouldered the rifle, took off the safety, monitored my breathing, and squeezed the trigger.  I almost did not believe what happened next.  I immediately ran the bolt and chambered another round, fully expecting the elk to take off running.  Instead, he took two steps and dropped.

I waited to see if he would get up and move, but after several minutes I couldn't contain myself and started making phone calls.  I called my father-in-law, my uncle, and my wife telling them that I had an elk down.  Finally my heart rate slowed enough that I could approach the elk.  I came up to him with the safety off in case he had not yet expired.  As I neared, it was clear that my first and only shot had done the job.

I quickly gave thanks to the elk and the mountain, then I got to work.  In short order had him gutted.  My wife showed up and then my uncle and father-in-law.  We quartered him and with the help of the snow, had him down the mountain and into camp.  My first bull gave seven families three elk to share.  My freezer is now full and I have to figure out how to mount the antlers of a 4X5 elk.  I have been blessed with elk for the last four years.

What I Found Walking In the Woods

For the last week I've been walking through the Colorado woods chasing elk.  I have been blessed in the last three years and have brought home a cow elk each year.  This year I did not draw a cow elk tag in the area I usually hunt.  This meant going into the high up places to look for bulls.

I have also been blessed with a wife who has developed a love for hunting.  She did draw a cow elk license, as did my uncle.  My wife and I got to elk camp after a long week of work.  We pulled in long after dark, plopped our sleeping bags in the canvas wall tent we share with my uncle, father-in-law, and cousin.  The morning came early and with it came a plan.  There was construction down in the valley below that was pushing the elk up around 7:00 in the morning.  We downed some coffee and quickly ate a cold breakfast in order to get into place to catch the elk on the move.

I sat with my back against a large aspen tree and watched the ridge above me where the elk might choose to cross.  After sitting for about an hour enjoying watching the squirrels play and chatter, I was jolted by a crack and a boom.  Someone had taken a shot.  I sat tight, hoping that the elk might choose to run past me.  Instead I heard several other shots, all very close.  Soon I could sit no longer and called my uncle.  I was sure that two of the shots were his.  He had a cow down and wanted my help to get in gutted and back to camp.  I found him quickly and started to help.  Several minutes later, my cousin crested the hill and told me that he would help my uncle as long as I went to help my wife with her elk.

I quickly headed over the hill to find my wife with her first elk, a small cow.  Her dad was soon there to help.  As is my wife's way, she insisted on doing most of the work of gutting the elk herself.  She had gotten it close to camp and in short order we had it back and ready to hang.  Fifteen minutes later, my uncle and cousin brought the other elk in, and we had two elk hanging in camp.  It was not yet 2 PM.  An excellent start to the season.

Pictures below the fold.

Sanding Rubber

My wife was recently given her grandfather's hunting rifle.  The Remington Model 721 in .270 was purchased new in 1952.  It has been on many a hunting trip.  Her father used it to take his first deer.  When we got it, it was in need of a little TLC.

There was a small crack at the front of the stock and the recoil pad was the original from '52.  We removed the old recoil pad, watching it disintegrate as it came off.  We then plugged the old holes with dowels and glued the crack in the stock.

We applied linseed oil to the stock and got to work on the recoil pad.  I picked up a Limbsaver grind to fit as I had heard that they were fairly easy to install and worked great.  We mounted the pad and traced out the contour of the rifle.  We then removed the pad and got to sanding.  My wife went first and after a half hour came in covered in tiny black rubber particles and oil.  Apparently finishing the recoil pad would be my job.

I started with dry 60 grit paper on a rotary sander and soon applied oil.  I got the general shape roughed out and switched to the fine stuff.  I got it shaped well, but I had gotten too aggressive and melted the rubber in a few spots.  I brought it back in and started to mount it up, but it was still too big.  Somehow we hadn't scribed the shape quite right.  I tried tried again and got it right.

Then my wife took it to the range and got it right, right from the start.  She was shooting 1-1/2", 5 shot groups at 100 yards with little effort and 20 year old ammo.

A flat shooting 58 year old rifle, full of hunting juju, I'm looking forward to November.

Circle Of Life

I haven't been blogging much lately.  There are more than several reasons, but the chief one is this.

We have had a pond in the backyard since we moved in.  It wasn't very big or very deep.  The water didn't circulate well and there was no filter.  In short it was a PITA.  This summer I've been busting hump in order to expand, deepen, and generally improve the pond.  I'll have a post up later with some pond lessons learned.

I was out last night taking some pictures of the pond in order to show off my hard work when this guy showed up.

He stayed atop my fence for a long time.  I thought maybe he was thinking about doing a little fishing in my pond.  After about five minutes of watching him look around my backyard intently, he jumped down to a lower fence, flushed out the mouse, and before I could blink or snap a picture he flew off with his dinner.  The circle of life is everywhere.  It's even in the backyard of a nondescript house in the suburbs.

From The Wayback Machine

I got a rather unique gift from both of my sons for fathers day and have been meaning to share.  Unfortunately, my scanner has not been very cooperative.  Last night I beat the treacherous piece of technology until it agreed to do its job.  The results are below.  First up is the three year old.

 Next is the six year old.

As you can see they've got me pegged.  Hopefully my wife answers the door when child protective services come to ask me a few questions.

Dominance Check

Turkey hunting this year ended without a turkey in the bag.  With the move back from New Mexico hunting time and energy were greatly reduced.  That does not mean that turkey hunting was unsuccessful.  I found a matched pair of mule deer sheds.  I also found a new sharpshooter.

After watching my son shoot the M&P 15/22 with iron sights, I decided that an upgrade to a red dot was in order.  He seemed to have difficulty maintaining alignment so I threw on a bipod as well to reduce muscle fatigue.

I mounted the red dot fairly close to the charging handle and had my son check to make sure he could see the dot easily.  At this point he mounted the gun right handed, just like his dad, and proceeded to close his right eye and lean way over the stock in order to use his left eye.  After a brief discussion and some simple tests, we discovered that he is left eye dominant.  He also happens to be ambidextrous (left handed if you ask his grandma).

We switched to a left handed grip and the impressive results are below.

Loading right handed

Shooting left handed

...but the Vanna White pose takes both hands.  In his words, he "destroyed it."

I guess now I need to start shopping for left handed rifles.

The Turkeys Win Again

Both my wife and I had conversations with turkeys this weekend, but neither of us could convince them to come within shotgun range.

I did find this though.

Between that and the other kind of turkeys I found, it was an awesome weekend.

Marco ... Gobble Gobble Gobble

I spent part of the night today getting ready for Turkey hunting this weekend.  It is quite possibly the best version of Marco Polo I have ever played.  The season opened last weekend, but I decided that the weather was way too nice for hunting.  This weekend is much better with a 50% chance of rain, possible freezing temperatures in the morning, and likely little sunshine and even less warmth.

Here is what I will have with me when I go searching for Tom.

From top center and going clockwise:

• Camo hat with built in face and neck covering (kinda like a balaclava, but with a bill)
• Turkey vest to hold all my calls, plus water and other random junk
• Binoculars used chiefly to spot turkey rocks and turkey stumps
• Patterned turkey target used in the morning to remind me what my shotgun does at 40 yards to a turkey's head
• Federal 2-3/4" Magnum #5 turkey shells.  It's what my shotgun likes to eat.
• Two 00 buckshot loads for any hungry bears or coyotes (just in case)
• Stoeger 12 GA, over/under shot gun with two turkey chokes
• Camo shirt, pants, and jacket
• Various calls (pot & peg, mouth, and box calls)
• Montana hen decoy, flat and light and still fools turkeys

All the way on the bottom is my ParaUSA GI Expert.  It is a 1911 in .45.  It is there in the event that some outside entity causes turkey hunting to go Tango Uniform.  In a situation like that, two guns are always better than one.

Training Quandry

I'm planning on buying a M&P15-22, setting it up with a bipod, and putting my 6 year old son behind it to start learning to shoot in earnest.  I am currently waffling on the subject of a sighting system.

When I learned to shoot rifle, I learned on an old .22 bolt action with open sights.  I think it can be a great way to make the subject of alignment of the shooter, barrel, and target a concrete concept.  On the other hand, putting a red dot on the rifle would make it easier for a new shooter to put holes where they want.  That could ease potential frustrations and make learning to shoot more fun.

What say you internets?

Booth Babes

So some folks have been posting up pictures of the Shot Show booth babes.  Now let me start off by saying there's nothing wrong with pictures of booth babes, but I still wonder about the tactic.  Whenever I see a product being advertised via use of a scantily clad female, my first thought is that the product must not be that great.

I guess it's the same thought I have about places like Hooters.  Sure their wings are good, but they aren't that good.  What has always impressed me more is a sharply dressed female spokesperson, who knows their stuff.  For example, if I were a camo company or hunting outfitter, my wife would make a great spokesperson.

See what I mean?