Steve Cambria
11-21-2014, 01:00 PM
Sorry...one day late, but after a 300 yard drag, perhaps the sensors will allow me a bit of latitude???
As a lifelong CT resident and vintage gun nut, it's pretty hard to resist the allure of Winchester. While I love to bow hunt and shoot flintlock long rifles, the shotgun/rifle season never fanned my flame. That is, until, I bought an original, Winnie '73 with special order 30" barrel and set trigger, in the venerable .44/40 caliber. Just a pure "shooter" mind you, but with a good, strong bore. Fell in love after my first trip to the range. Soft shooting and damn accurate. Found that the black powder cartridges shot better than the modern cowboy action loads, which suited me just fine.
This was my fourth season trying to connect with a CT Whitetail and yesterday at 8:45 the Gods finally smiled. Buck was out at around 160 yards in a 15 knot cross wind. Flipped up the Express sight, dampened the front blade with my saliva -soaked thumb, a la Sgt. York and let the hammer drop. Ok, ok... in my freakin' dreams!! Actually the buck came right up my backside to around 15 yds, winded me, or perhaps heard my knees knocking like two claves!! He did the ol' 180 spin-around, scampered back and gave me an angling-in quartering shot at around 25-30 yds. Saw the silver slice of that front blade on his chest, and like the shot gunner I am, slapped that trigger like a baby's bottom. He tore off, tail down, and then I heard a CRASH and the woods fell silent. Waited a good five minutes for my heart to settle back in my chest and started after him.
No blood....no hair.....SQUAT, for a good 50-60 yards. Elation, turned quickly to the depths of depression. So I pressed onward. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw the glint of something that turned out to be a blotch of fresh blood, three feet up on a sapling--then another patch on the tree next to it. I looked 5 yards ahead and there he was, piled-up about 10 feet off the trail.
Fairly respectable 8-PT, tipping the scale at 161 lbs., dressed.
I sat there for a good 10 minutes in awe, thinking that after 133 years, the gun was back home in the Nutmeg State AND could still bring home the bacon. They say the cowboys would spend 3 months wages to own a Winchester. It's easy to see why!
http://i1073.photobucket.com/albums/w400/cambo1021/DSCF0620.jpg (http://s1073.photobucket.com/user/cambo1021/media/DSCF0620.jpg.html)
As a lifelong CT resident and vintage gun nut, it's pretty hard to resist the allure of Winchester. While I love to bow hunt and shoot flintlock long rifles, the shotgun/rifle season never fanned my flame. That is, until, I bought an original, Winnie '73 with special order 30" barrel and set trigger, in the venerable .44/40 caliber. Just a pure "shooter" mind you, but with a good, strong bore. Fell in love after my first trip to the range. Soft shooting and damn accurate. Found that the black powder cartridges shot better than the modern cowboy action loads, which suited me just fine.
This was my fourth season trying to connect with a CT Whitetail and yesterday at 8:45 the Gods finally smiled. Buck was out at around 160 yards in a 15 knot cross wind. Flipped up the Express sight, dampened the front blade with my saliva -soaked thumb, a la Sgt. York and let the hammer drop. Ok, ok... in my freakin' dreams!! Actually the buck came right up my backside to around 15 yds, winded me, or perhaps heard my knees knocking like two claves!! He did the ol' 180 spin-around, scampered back and gave me an angling-in quartering shot at around 25-30 yds. Saw the silver slice of that front blade on his chest, and like the shot gunner I am, slapped that trigger like a baby's bottom. He tore off, tail down, and then I heard a CRASH and the woods fell silent. Waited a good five minutes for my heart to settle back in my chest and started after him.
No blood....no hair.....SQUAT, for a good 50-60 yards. Elation, turned quickly to the depths of depression. So I pressed onward. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw the glint of something that turned out to be a blotch of fresh blood, three feet up on a sapling--then another patch on the tree next to it. I looked 5 yards ahead and there he was, piled-up about 10 feet off the trail.
Fairly respectable 8-PT, tipping the scale at 161 lbs., dressed.
I sat there for a good 10 minutes in awe, thinking that after 133 years, the gun was back home in the Nutmeg State AND could still bring home the bacon. They say the cowboys would spend 3 months wages to own a Winchester. It's easy to see why!
http://i1073.photobucket.com/albums/w400/cambo1021/DSCF0620.jpg (http://s1073.photobucket.com/user/cambo1021/media/DSCF0620.jpg.html)