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With no chance for success, you would not hunt. Without the prospect of failure hunting would have no merit. I don't hunt to kill, I kill because I hunt. Remember a moderate hit is lots more effective than a high powered miss. Best of luck.

Friday, November 10, 2017


My son and I went again to our favorite elk hunting grounds, the Book Cliffs area in northeastern Utah.  We didn't have "Any Bull" tags but we did have "SPIKE" tags.  These over the counter SPIKE tags were the best we could come up with.  I actually look forward to getting some elk meat for winter.  Someone in the family or a close friend has to get an elk for me to get some steaks and some burger every fall.  It is just required for my life tradition.  I don't buy expensive beef with growth hormones and antibiotics.  I much prefer hobby/hunting produced natural organic elk meat.

This year the Supreme Commander is retired from 24 years of teaching the 2nd grade angel/monsters and I asked if she wanted to go to elk camp.  I was surprised when she said "Yes."  This throws a whole new slant on the world of elk hunting.  She brought warm clothes, a good supply of treats, and two library books to read.  She was not hunting in the field per-se, she was waiting for the elk to come into our camp and laugh at us.  She was on camp guard duty.  Naps were acceptable also during the afternoon guard shift.
Dax, my son, and his entire family came to elk camp also.  It was fun to be with the kids and of course dear Tristie.  We had a good time visiting with each other, eating good food, playing FISH card games and learning card tricks in the camp.  The kids were along in the afternoon hunts.  A great time together in nature for all of us.
The weather at first was unseasonably warm.  It was just sweatshirt weather in the mornings and evenings and a long sleeved shirt was just right in the mid-day hours.  Times would change in just a few days.

We arrived at camp in the late afternoon on Friday 10-6-2017.  After setting up camp we went in different directions looking for elk and or sign of elk.  I went to the northwest a mile or two and scouted around without any luck.  I found a significant number of elk hunters and elk camps but no sign nor even a glimpse of  an elk.

Back at camp after dark our evening meal was kind of traditional for our hunting adventures:  shrimp with alfredo sauce over fettuccine noodles.  Fresh bakery bread, a variety of cheeses along with tomatoes and fruits were served with the meal.  The food was was really good.  We, all 8 of us, took no prisoners.  We played cards until later in the evening.  The youngest grand daughter took the prize as FISH winner that night.  She is a sweetheart and a good winner.
Shrimp in garlic butter being prepared for a feast

 Saturday the hunt started early.  We were out in the field before sun up.  We went all around northeast and northwest from camp and couldn't seem to find the elk. We know they live in the area but they were hiding or something.  We hunted and scouted for some time and then started to head back to camp for brunch at around 10:30 a.m.  We were still out in the field and looking for animals making our way back slowly when we hit a low lying stump with the tire on the passenger rear side of the car.  The short stump only 7 or 8 inches high had a "mean stick" coming out of it, maybe 2",  in to the road and the mean stick tore a hole in our truck tire.  We stopped in the middle of the road and changed over to the spare tire.  The tire change was a three generation effort.  I did some, Dax did some, and Hunter, age 13, did some. 
Kind of neat now that I look back on it, all three generations working for the same purpose.  This was an unexpected misery.  {Then again when do you expect to have a flat tire?  Never, I guess.}  I wonder if the elk had chewed on the stump when it was still a tree to make it grow a "mean stick" out into the road and flatten the tires of the hunters in the fall?  Maybe, the elk seemed to be out smarting us so far.

We made it back to camp around 11:30 a.m. and had brunch.  Again, great food and lots of laughs with family.  The Supreme Commander had just gotten out of bed and was enjoying this type of elk hunting a lot.  Dax makes sure we plan for our meals and can power up with good foods to go out and hunt hard.  I am not so thoughtful and usually eating MRE's and hollow calorie foods and eventually run out of fuel while hunting after just two or three days.  After brunch we had naps, and played games out doors.  I was enthralled by the tic-tac-toe game developed on a tree stump near camp and the kids playing with rocks and pine comes for markers.

After naps we went out on the hunt again.  We traveled to the southeast this time from camp.  We had two vehicles engaged and were traveling glassing and traveling and glassing for a few hours.  As the sun started to lower in the sky we started back to camp.  Dax's truck was leading the convoy and we were cutting through a valley bottom complete with small stream and lots of tall vegetation.  A coyote ran out from the brush in the stream bottom across the two track road we were on and stopped on the hill side just a 100 yards or so in front of Dax's truck.  Dax jumped out of the truck and grabbed his .338 Win Mag rifle, cambered a round, raised it, and shot the coyote.  Kind of an unexpected adventure for us all.  I took a GPS shot to mark the spot for Dax.  He brought down the coyote for all to examine.  I can certify from my examination a .338 Win mag rifle with 225 gr. Barnes copper bullets is "enough" gun to take a coyote at 100 yards.  Extra dead, DRT, no suffering for the calf/fawn killer.  Dax removed the lower jaw and the ears for the $50 bounty to be paid by the big game hunters alliance with the DWR in critical areas of nurture for young calves and fawns.  The $50 will help with the cost of a new tire.
It was dark when we got back to camp.  We made another delicious meal and played FISH until late.  We had decided to not hunt, and sleep in on Sunday. We would watch some LDS General Conference talks recorded on a lap top computer from the week before on the Sabbath Day after a late breakfast.  The whole gang had to go back to civilization Sunday afternoon for school and other commitments so just Dax, the Supreme Commander, and I were left in camp to look for spike elk.

Monday, 10-9-2017, Mother Nature brought us a surprise in the night, it had snowed about 9 inches!

We went out and hunted all over the area.  It was kind of dicey driving on the new snow but we put my truck in 4X4 drive and slowly motored around OK.  I have lived 30 years + in the desert so snow is considered a 4-letter word for me.  I did just fine driving my good old Chevy, even though I was kind of out of practice.  We traveled into the lower elevation areas thinking the elk had moved down due to the snow.  NO luck seeing any elk.  We did see a few deer but not actually that many.  I dropped Dax off at the start of a famous side canyon and he was going to hunt up the canyon and then crest out into a more major drainage.  I was to drive the truck over there and watch and wait for him.  I went about 2 miles southeast and up the drainage.  I watched/glassed diligently in all directions for a couple of hours.  Dax hiked and hiked and scouted for elk without results.  He didn't even see any tracks we could follow in the new snow.  We finally met up and headed back to camp on the mud and snow covered roads.  We were kind of disappointed in not seeing even some tracks in the snow.  While driving back we discussed leaving the area and the camp for a few days, 4 or 5, and then coming back later hoping for better opportunities.  We couldn't figure any area in this end of the State that would be better. 

Arriving back at camp I think we woke up the Supreme Commander at 11:30 a.m.  We had a fine lunch of Mexican food and sodas.  We took short naps then went out again.  This time I suggested we go to the area where we had killed bears a few years earlier.  It was right on the Colorado boarder.  There were no elk in the elk area so I thought why not look in the non-elk areas? We drove to the proposed drainage and when we got to the turn off to "bear county" we saw the road had absolutely no tire tracks on it.  We would be the first ones down in this area in the last day or so.  We started down the drainage and the scenery was beautiful.  The snow was so white and the trees were so green.  It was beautiful.  I was really enjoying being with my son and hunting, these are special moments in life. This is something we have done together for many years.  I always enjoy being with my boys in nature.  Both of my sons are great men and enjoy nature and the wild.

As we made our way down the drainage Dax saw elk tracks in the snow on the road.  He said "Be ready".  I went a bit slower and watched the hill side as much as I could and still drive on the teflon covered frozen water.  Dax said "Stop, there they are."  I backed up the road about 50 yards and we stopped the truck and got out.  The elk had moved up the hillside from the road/trail and they were moving away from us up hill to the east.  There were about 30 head in the small herd.  Dax spotted a spike elk on the left side and I saw one on the right side of the group.  We charged our rifles with Dax at the front of the truck on the drivers side and I near the rear of the truck on the same side leveled our rifles and started our harvest.  I shot at a spike elk and hit it and Dax shot the same one by coincidence.  I had my scope on 6.5X power when I fired my first shot.  I heard the smack of the bullets impact -- both mine and Dax's.  I turned up my scope to 12X then moved on to the escaping spike elk on the right side.  I fired again and heard the impact of the bullet again.  Dax and I fired almost simultaneously on this elk, also. He was shooting the "Designated Hitter"* a .338 Win Mag with had loaded Barnes 225 grain Triple shock bullets hand loaded to 2,800 feet per second muzzle velocity.  I was shooting a .300 Rem. Ultra Mag. with 180 grain Barnes Triple shock bullets hand loaded to about 3,330 feet per second muzzle velocity.   We both hit both elk.  Needless to say it happened fast and the elk were dead.  We both shoot big rifles and the elk were only 216 yards from the truck.  I lazered the range after they were down. No time to be exact when they were on the escape route.  THE WORK STARTS NOW. . .

Dax and I point the elk down hill and start to drag them towards the road.  Gravity and the coefficient of friction on snow take effect and they kind of slide, with some help, to a semi-level spot 50 yards uphill from the road.  We field dress the animals and then drag them the last 50 yards in the snow to the edge of the road cut.  I back the truck up to the road cut and we slide the elk WHOLE into the back of the truck. The snow started out as a hindrance but ended up helping us out a lot.
This is way too fun!  Lots of time with my son in nature, family and games at camp, and a 50 yard drag to the truck.  Am I a spoiled elk hunter?  Hell, yes!  We head back to camp and the Supreme Commander is happy to see us  back before dark and elated about the elk we have in the back of the truck.  She wants her photo with the animals.  We oblige:

The next morning we pack up camp and head to town to get the meat processed.  It is a fun trip to go into Vernal, Utah and have a great meal at Cafe Rio and pat each other on the back for a successful hunt.  It is Tuesday and there are certain lunch specials for us at the Cafe.

Kind of cool all in all.  I look forward to getting the meat for my freezer.  I am truly blessed in so many ways.  I am thankful.  Humbly thankful for all I am given in this life and for life it self.

 {*Named Designated Hitter because it has taken a wide variety of game from rabbits and coyotes to zebra and kudu and everything in between like deer, pronghorn, and elk.  This rifle is very accurate and has yet to let the hunter down on performance.} 

Thursday, October 26, 2017

2017 Muzzle Loader Deer Hunt Report

Guess what?  We didn't get a deer during the muzzle loader deer season hunting in the Abajo Mountain area in extreme southeast Utah.  We did have a great time together hunting and seeing the beauties of nature.  The colorful leaves were at their peak for color!  I am a crusty old man but even I was impressed with the beauties God has given us here on earth.

We hunted for several days and just couldn't get a shot at a deer with antlers on its head.  There were a multitude of deer in the area but none of them met the requirements of our tags, e.g. antlers.  Let me post some photos of the country and the absolutely unafraid deer we saw almost hourly while hunting.  It is called "hunting" for a reason.  It is not always just harvesting.
Beautiful colored leaves

panorama S.S.E.
panorama S.S.W.

I have never hunted in the Monticello, Utah area.  It is beautiful.  The folks in town are friendly and I think it is wonderful over there.  Only thing is -- crap-o-rama -- it is a long way from anywhere.  The travel time is taxing to say the least.  I have been through the area before while a college student and also on motorcycle trips to the Four Corners Monument but just passing through in a hurry and didn't take time to see the extremely beautiful surroundings.  Hunting is kind of special that way, it allows you to take time to see every thing and enjoy the beauty of nature {while waiting to kill some some animal for food}.
unafraid deer taunting me N37º50.426 W109º27.673 Elev = 11,313

Sanctuary deer living near the local temple in town
Our camp was in the pines and we had it really pretty good.  It rained once but the weather was as good as can be expected in the fall in the mountains.  We were able to hunt everyday and saw a multitude of does and fawns.  Many of the does had two fawns.  The twin fawns will mean good hunting in years to come. Our camp was simple but fun. My grandson HUNTER came and actually got a shot at a 3x3 buck or so at just over 200 yards.  A bit too far for a muzzle loader.  Maybe next year. ? ? !
Hunter all snuggled in until morning

Camp was comfortable N37º49.115 W109º27.261 Elev = 8,465

I saw a bear track and a younger live bear looking for something to eat.  I spooked the little bear and he ran like the IRS was after him into the brush and disappeared.  Maybe a deer next year for both me and the bears.  My last years' deer hunt was so superb I can't rationally expect an equal follow up.
Monticello, Utah beautiful
{NOTE: Virgin Mobile lies about service in this area, or zip code.  they indicated full service and they beguiled me.  I took my phone and was not able to contact anyone through talk or text until I got near to Cedar City, Utah. Just so you know.}

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Great Day in Antelope Country

Son and father hunting
What a fun hunt.  I got to visit both my sons and their families on this hunting adventure.  I saw multiple mature pronghorn bucks. I managed to harvest a reasonable buck.  I am really happy about all the antelope hunting adventures I have been on over the last 15 years or so.  This was just one more year of fun while on the hunt for a pronghorn buck.

My hunting adventures all started many years ago.  I took my son hunting for mule deer in Logan Canyon (Utah) in October 1978.  He was less than one year old.  We have been at it ever since.  My other son was born a few years later and he likes to go on hunts also.  The three of us boys would always go out for the opener of whatever I had a tag for.  They were both good little sports.  I loved having them along and learning my passion while camping and enjoying the outdoors. When the older son went to serve in Spain for two years after high school the younger son took over as guide and hunting buddy.  I really, really enjoy hunting with my boys.  They are great men and kind to their old dad.

This year I practiced shooting with my .300 RUM rifle for a couple months before the recent hunt.  I was shooting a 150 grain Nosler ballistic tip bullet loaded over 106 grains of Retumbo powder at 3,619 f.p.s. muzzle velocity.  The rifle was grouping three shots just under 1/2 inch at 100 yards consistently.  I practiced shooting targets out to 500 yards knowing the hunt involved some wide open spaces in northeastern Utah.  I felt the equipment was solid and I would have no problem making the shot if I could find a mature target.  Lots of practice and it only took one shot to complete the hunt.
1 shot required
Antelope hunting is just right for an old guy like me.  You drive around in the hunting area on oil field and ranch roads, looking for game.  Then you stop and glass -- a lot.  Trying to judge if the buck you see through your binos or spotting scope merits a stalk.  If not, you drive more and have snacks and sodas and glass some more.  This continues for the entire hunt.  Great conversation time and great treats.  Stalks are usually less than a mile.  Precision shooting is required due to the distances involved.  All of the above I really enjoy.  Best of all is being out in nature without a cellular phone and conversing about the game pursued, the politics of the world, and life in general with my boys.  Extra special times.

A very nice fellow, Mike, was the ranch manager for the CWMU area.  He and I talked via phone on Sunday evening.  He told me to meet him at a parking area near the ranch and he would show me the boundaries for the hunt.  He told me to bring my rifle when we went to see the boundary areas as we might see a shooter buck on Monday morning.  My son and I got together with Mike at 6:30 a.m.  I did indeed bring along my rifle.  We went around the ranch and saw various antelope eating prairie grass etc.  They were nice and healthy animals, mostly does, fawns, and young bucks.  They were used to seeing the ranch pickup.  No worries in the antelope world.  There were also some feral llamas on the property.  Crap, I have never seen even one single llama let alone a dozen or so multicolored llamas wondering around Utah.  kind of  - - -  weird.

Mike showed us the various areas we could hunt and was careful to show us areas that were not included in the CWMU.  He was a pleasant fellow and like to examine the antelope as much as we did.  He told us he liked to be on the hunts.  He didn't care if he pulled the trigger he also enjoyed the hunt when someone else was the hunter.  He pointed out two "dandy" bucks, to use his vernacular.  I was impressed with the animals but no so much as to try for a stalk.  As we were leaving for the parking area to get my pickup we saw a "dandy" buck.  He was eating with a smaller buck in a sagebrush flat.  Mike said he was a mature one.  I looked at him through my binos and though he merited a better look.  Mike stopped the truck and I got out and crossed the road and sat on a little berm of soil. I didn't think the antelope would wait for me to set up my tripod and the 30X spotting scope so I used my rifle scope to check them out.  Extending my bipod legs to their full length I turned my scope up to 20X.  I could clearly see the older antelope was mature -- the mass of his horns was very reasonable and his diggers were going gray.  I took a quick laser range reading on him at 196 yards.

The years of practice started the shoot mode like an avalanche when it was harvest time. Automatic and almost unstoppable -- I cranked a round into my rifle from the magazine, took aim at the vitals on the big old buck quartering toward me, held my breath, and gently pressed the trigger until the shot broke.  The recoil of the rifle pushed my head up some but I caught a glimpse of the antelope collapsing on the spot in the bottom of the scope.  Mike and Dax were still in the truck over on the road.  They were amazed how the antelope just fell.  Kind of like a popped balloon.  Not even one step by the old buck. {I have dropped hartebeest and springbok like that in Namibia.  Also a bear in Utah similarly.  Just lucky I guess.}  We walked over to the harvested animal and he was a "dandy".  Good mass and long horns.  I think it is the best scoring antelope I have taken so far.  All the antelope I have taken have been a lot of fun.  I really like hunting these speed goats.

The younger buck antelope snorted at the expired oldster.  The young boy wanted the old dude to get up and get out of there.  As we walked toward the downed game the younger buck just hung around until we were only 75 yards away or so.  Then he hit the afterburners and was gone in a flash.

We took photos and I thanked Mike for leading me to this crusty old goat.  We went back to the parking area and retrieved my pickup for hauling the downed animal out of the area.  Upon returning in my truck we took more photos. Dax and I started to harvest the meat.  Dax has a great method of "gutless" extraction of meat.  He has some fine knives and we skinned the animal then took off the four quarters of meat and the back-straps.  It worked well.  We had some ice in a large cooler and we put the meat on ice within 30 minutes of downing it.  We were on our way back town and it was only 10:30 a.m.  WHAT A HUNT!
One quarter removed three more to go plus back-straps
It was a wonderful hunt and I am truly blessed to have such experiences.  My son knew a needy family to donate the meat too.  It was just too far to take it home unfrozen.  400+ miles is too far to transport antelope meat just on ice.
North 40º08.141' West 110º20.028'
 It was a wonderful hunt and I am truly blessed to have such experiences.

Thursday, August 3, 2017


One of my best friends has passed on.  He was fun person to hunt with and discuss the philosophies of life while waiting for wild game to move around in the veld. Hans Peter Luehl was an upright guy.  He worked hard at his ranch for over 40 years.  He raised four fine children with the help of his wife a life long partner and companion, Frauke.  He is "grandpa" to four and "friend" to hundreds.  Hans Peter Luehl passed in the night at the hospital in Windhoek, Namibia from cancer.  He is already deeply missed.

I met him just 10 years ago.  I went to his ranch in Namibia as a client/hunter.  I spend eight days with him in 2007 and left his farm and home as a life long friend.  He was friendly to me from the start.  I enjoy his dry humor.  He is always in tune with nature and wants to preserve the land and animals. He managed a large ranch and had between 1,600 and 2,000 head of cattle on pasture all the time for years and years.  Hunting was just a side line for him. I think he really enjoyed seeing others harvest their game as much as hunting himself.

ONE STORY of so many:  I was hunting for warthog.  It was a nice day to be out.  We were in some small foothills.  Hans Peter had a flair up of gout so bad he could not walk. The tracker and I saw a nice pig and we put on the stalk.  I ended up taking him at about 225 yards with a .338 Win. Mag.  Mr. Warthog  ran about 20 yards with his heart exploded and rolled down the slight hill we were traversing.  I went over to check it out and take photos.  Next thing you know Hans Peter was motoring up in 4x4 Toyota pickup driving 4 wheel low range to our spot on the hill side.  He wanted to be part of the action.  He was kind and congratulatory.  We loaded the warthog and went back to the ranch house.  Later than evening over dinner I asked Hans Peter, "Did you see me shoot the warthog or did the brush block your view?"

He answered, "I was not able to see the shot."
I then told him "I think it was about 1,000 meters, then."
He didn't miss a beat and and replied "1,000 yards maybe, but I can't believe 1,000 meters."
Everyone at the table had a big laugh.  Hans Peter scored another one.

God bless you Hans Peter.  My life is better for having you as a dear friend.

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Pre-Hibernation Hunting

Fellow sportsmen, and sportswomen, I have to tell you a tale about the infamous chizzleramos maximus humori species.  These little rascals hibernate.  When the weather gets too hot for them they just go underground and sleep off the heat.  I know and understand they hibernate in the winter months and they don't like snow much.  I am OK with that.  What kind of "ticks me off" is they won't give me a chance to hunt them as the summer months linger on.  Sure it is hot outside, 101º F or so.  I am sweating as much as any other old aged, over weight, maniacal killer in the alfalfa fields of Iron County.  I drove some distance to come end your lives in the alfalfa fields and you are sleeping with your significant other 3 feet or more below the surface of the earth.

I checked with the two resident experts, farmers, I could find on Thurs. 6-29-2017 and they both told me, independent of each other, -- chizzlers hibernate most of the hot months.  Varmints occasionally get up early and also very late to eat a minimal amount food (profits) and then go back to sleep deep in their burrows.

I did however manage to shoot a few of the little varmints.  I am the first to admit I am spoiled rotten with the earlier hunts this year.  It is kind of hard to accept shooting only 50-60 chizzlers in a 2.5 hour hunt when a few months ago I was shooting that many an hour. I did take my .223 Rem. rifle for some longer distance shooting.  I was having a great time.  I would sight up with my .22 l.r. on on the intended vermin victim at 25 to 65 yards. If the chizzlers were out beyond 65 yards I would switch rifles and let the lead/copper storm find its mark at from 75 to 200 yards.  I had a 60% + success rate finding my mark.  The old buggers 200 yards out taunting me were not used to such long distance death and destruction coming in from the old white Chevy 4X4.  I put a new fear into the chizzler survivors -- if the truck of death is visible you could easily be the next target.  Check out the comparison photos.  The .223 Rem. is a nuclear device on chizzlers with a handloaded  50 gr. Hornady SX bullet at 3,000+ f.p.s. speed.
I did enjoy the slower pace of destruction to a degree and used my extra time to keep my magazines filled to capacity.  I also made some fine shots on the profit stealers and took a couple of photos.  One shows the "prefect chest shot" on a big old herd bull, and the other shows a herd bull trying to make it back to his hole in the ground.  He didn't make it.
Chest shot just like a mini-oryx

Sunday, June 18, 2017


We all need to know what a single .22 l.r. high speed hollow point will do to a chizzler at about 45 yards.  I was hunting chizzlers in the last week of May in Iron County, Utah.  My dear, dear, dear daughter-in-law was helping me take care of my recently surgeried Supreme Commander.  She allowed my son, grandsons, and me to go help out the farmers and end a few vermin one morning.  Just thought you all would like to see the photo to help you remember . . .
I long for the good ol' days
That was my last hunt for some time.  I will admit it is kind of slim hunting these days.  The chizzlers are real gentlemen when it comes to hunting.  They don't like it too cold, or too hot, or too windy.  They come out to feed and recreate and procreate when the weather is just right.  The chizzler is really kind to not come out too early or stay out too late.  They are real gentlemen huntable.  I have been stuck here in Washington County, Utah and giving medicine on 4 hour intervals (24 hours a day), making high protein food, cleaning up food items, and listening to various complaints about pain etc.  I am the major therapy "inflicter" and wound dresser.  The Supreme Commander is getting better but I will admit, healing is taking some time.  The Dr. said it would be about a year.  I don't know if I can last that long?  Of course it gets better every day.  Mobility is better and self sufficiency is coming.  I know sometime it is coming.  I truly hope it is coming.

While on my last hunt for profit stealers, as mentioned above, my son was with me and ended a significant number of the little devils.  He is a good shot with his CZ .17HMR.  My grandson borrowed my extra .22 and did a terminal number on some chizzlers as well.  Then he got the idea to trade his dad for the .17HMR and the carnage started at a wholesale level.  Grandson was flipping them up in the air with guts trailing in the sky.  He had uttered that demoniacal laugh that many chizzler hunters develop.  Basically he was really having a good time.  I attach a photo of a chizzler he "Shot the butt off" to use his words.  I admit the .17 HMR caliber is exactly what is needed for chizzler hunting from 10 to 200 yards.

I have been stuck here in the basement trying to avoid the heat.  I am always at the beckon and call of the Supreme Commander convalescing in the next room.  It is really too dang hot to be outdoors in the afternoons.  It is 110º F here and is going to be maybe 116º F on Tuesday in the p.m.  I sit here a "house arrest prisoner" as it were.  I have little to occupy my energies so I took on some ammo. reloading.  Check out the pictures of Friday afternoon's work.  211 rounds resized, de-primed, polished, trimmed to 1.759" exactly, de-burred, re-primed, filled with 25.5 grains of Winchester 748 powder, and then topped with a Hornady 55 gr. soft point to overall length of 2.250".  This is a great load for chizzlers at distance (200 -300 yards), rock chucks, and jackrabbits.

Contrary to comments over heard here at the home base prison, I am not worthless.  I can make a mean melted cheese sandwich, bring ice water in a glass 24/7 and I am king of ammo crafters around here.  You guys all be careful out there.  When you are having fun and vaporizing varmints think of me here in the basement bring ice water to a healing back surgery person who is on drugs.

Friday, May 19, 2017


One of many burrows
The conditions were a bit brisk, due to temperature and the wind chill factor.  It was rather cold 5-15-2017 in Iron County, Utah.  I think it was around 40º F to 45º F most of the time I was up there reaping chizzlers.  The wind started at 8:45 a.m. around 10 mph and by 11:30 a.m. was up to over 20 mph.  When I guy shoots a .22 l.r. firearm at chizzlers in the wind thoughts of the state of Kentucky become a constant consideration with every shot.  Some times I held more than one body length to the right or the left for windage correction. I didn't shoot as accurately as I would have liked, maybe 60% success, but I did manage to reap a significant amount of vermin from an alfalfa field.

I tried to set up on the north end of a pivot irrigation field and was shooting more or less directly south.  The wind was blowing from south to north so lateral deflection of rounds fired was minimized.  The wind was not constant, nor was the origination direction exactly set.  I still gave the old Chizzler try.  I managed to get 120 - 150 of the little rascals transferred to the alfalfa field in the sky.

I had a good time although -- alone:  Both of my sons are in their home towns working and being a husband and father to their respective families.  Bounty Hunter 6 is working out of the area.  Mr. Bob, the Master Reaper, is home again.  LJ is in Mexico vacationing.  JS is in Idaho doing his Idaho legal thing. The San Diego contingent of the chizzler reapers is back in Shamu Town.  My young, padawan, apprentice JL is still in school for a few more days.  I journeyed alone to the fields of alfalfa and chizzlers.  The travel to and from the fields was extra quiet.  I still had a great time hunting.