Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Thursday, 12 September 2019

A Crisis In Marksmanship And Sportsmanship

Well fellas. It's like this... I think there may be a change in plans for hunting season this year.

Everything with the bow is going fine. The new tackle is shooting well, broadheads fly straight and true and if I get a shot and decide to take it - it's a done deal and no bones about it. All the practice and experimentation has made it a forgone conclusion. The only hard part will be getting close enough to the critter.


It's the rifles that have me whipped. Couple a years back I bought a black powder cartridge gun - a sweet Remington rolling block repro in 45-70.

And it's a sweetie - 32" barrel,  Lee Shavers medium sporting sight on the back and the one up front with an integral spirit level and all the inserts. My idea was that I'd even take this target gun hunting this year. The problem is that this beast is huge and heavy... which is great. Unfortunately my eyes are so bad now, that it takes me forever to line up and … as it stands right now I can only effectively shoot this thing off the sand bags or maybe the shooting sticks. I can't risk a shot at a game animal with this thing in good conscience.

Circumstances have forced me back to my old Ruger No.1 single shot rifle. That gun is a special animal; chambered in .25-06, it has a 24" bull barrelled pipe and in it's heyday would shoot groups 1/2 ~ 3/4" at 100 yards all day long. I put one of those GI leather slings on it, learned how to use it... and started to shoot like a United States Green Bean Marine! Now that I am not as fat, I can go back into the crossed ankle position, sling up … and dump anything under 300 yards with ease.

Of course now, the problem is the exact opposite. A deer running into me with the 45-70 stood an excellent chance of survival. If they come across me with that 25-06... their chances drop to zero - depending on circumstances and the will of the hunting gods, if ya catch my drift. (Darwin and Murphy are hunters too).

I suppose my choice is between sport and slaughter. The good thing is that at my age - it is a choice. If I get a shot there is nothing going that says I have to take it. And, I may just do that depending on how lazy I happen to be. Some men get their dicks and their ego into hunting and it turns them into hyper-competitive arseholes. As a younger man it did with me. As an old fart I can see the finer details of time and space that younger men may not... and enjoy my position therein with much more satisfaction. ;)

It doesn't take much to make an old fart happy. I need a good knife and rifle, a nice fall day, and an ass pack with some sammiches, a thermos and maybe a small flask.

I hope you all have some good plans laid for the 2019 hunting season and wish you all the best of luck.


  1. sport? slaughter? no, call it harvest.
    And remember to wipe the ham-sammich mustard off your fingers or it'll make a mess of the blueing on that nice No1.

  2. Tomorrow is the opening of grouse season in Wisconsin. Not sure who is more excited--me or the dog.