Smoking Guns

Smoking Guns

Flintlock deer season returns us to our roots

By Tyler Frantz

    December 26, 2007 found me hunkered down in an elevated pop-up blind, weathering mixed precipitation through the early evening hours as it transitioned from light snow to sleet and freezing rain.

    Cradled across my lap was a Lyman Deerstalker 50-caliber flintlock, with the flint and metalwork dutifully wrapped in a plastic sandwich baggie to shield my powder from the ominous moisture.

    As the final dreary moments of daylight began to fade, I pulled out my can-style deer call in a last ditch effort to make something happen. Miraculously, after a few short doe bleats, five curious bucks came running to the corner of the field I was watching.

    This young, motley crew possessed a pitiful display of headgear. In the brief time I had to assess each one, my eyes fell upon a half-rack, spike buck, fork horn, and I believe even a unicorn buck was in the mix.

    The largest was a legal five-point, a respectable late season survivor, and having shot a bear earlier that year, I was not being picky. I mustered enough composure to establish a solid rest, cock the hammer and draw my sights upon his vitals as he stood surveying the field. I remember muttering a haphazard prayer for my gun to go off, and then squeezed the trigger.

    Much to my surprise, a loud boom followed, resulting in a cloud of smoke enveloping the blind. Through the slowly clearing haze, I gazed in disbelief as my first and only flintlock buck had dropped mere feet from where he previously stood.

    I’ve certainly taken more impressive bucks in my many years afield than that little five-point, but it still ranks among my favorite hunts of all time. There’s just something special about harvesting a flintlock deer that makes the experience so memorable.

    For those unfamiliar, a flintlock muzzleloader is similar to the old-fashioned muskets used during the American Revolution. To load, a hunter must first pour black powder down the barrel, followed by a patch and ball, which is then pushed to the rear of the barrel with a ramrod. 

     After this, even finer black powder is placed in a small exterior flash pan, located near a tiny touchhole where the barrel connects to the gun’s wooden stock. Then a metal L-shaped strike plate called a frizzen is closed over the pan. When ready to shoot, a hammer containing a piece of flint at its tip is cocked back into the locked position, thus the name “flintlock.”

    Upon pulling the trigger, the hammer is released, and the flint hits the frizzen, producing a spark. The spark falls into the flash pan powder, which creates a quick flash of fire.

    This flame then rapidly enters the touchhole through the barrel, ignites the main charge, and ultimately propels the lead round-ball from the business end of the rifled barrel at a high rate of speed.

    Though relatively simple by design, a lot of things must happen precisely as they should for the weapon to even fire. One must ensure there isn’t too much (or too little) powder in the pan, that the powder doesn’t get wet, that the touchhole is clear of debris, and that the flint and frizzen are working harmoniously to produce a quality spark. 

             In wet weather, it is somewhat common to experience misfires, where you get the flash without the boom, or even no spark at all. To top it off, scopes are not allowed, so shots must be taken while aiming through open sights, making things even trickier.

            But that’s the allure of the season, and perhaps why so many hunters enjoy the challenge of returning to our primitive roots.

            This excerpt from the book I compiled for the PA Game Commission, “Pennsylvania Deer Hunting Through the Pages of Game News,” explains the early beginnings of our state’s flintlock season. The full book, which journeys through Pennsylvania’s hunting history via classic deer tales, is available for purchase at the PGC’s online OutdoorShop.

            “As the nation prepared to celebrate its bicentennial anniversary, public sentiments suddenly shifted from rapid advancement to an emphasized reflection of the past. It was a time to muse over our country’s humble beginnings when daily life was as simple as it was challenging.

            Simultaneously, the Pennsylvania woodlot was experiencing a period of successive regrowth, and whitetail populations were thriving. Thus, a unique opportunity arose for Keystone State sportsmen to pursue their favorite game species in the same traditional manner as their founding fathers.

            The year 1974 marked the state’s first flintlock muzzleloader season, and by the turn of the decade, its nostalgic appeal had ignited Pennsylvania hunters like a flash pan charge on a snow laden late-December morning.”

            In researching for the book, I learned the inaugural season was held for three days on thirty-seven state game lands. Sixty-five deer, including four bucks, were taken that year, and the season soon expanded to the statewide post-Christmas venture we enjoy today.

            Last weekend was spent with friends and family fine-tuning our old school black powder equipment. We adjusted our flints for maximum spark, took practice shots at leftover fall pumpkins and reacquainted ourselves with the telltale click, flash, boom of these finicky guns to help combat the “flintlock-flinchies.”

This year’s season opened December 26^th, and it lasts through January 9^th. Like the many devoted flint and steel hunters who love this unique traditional season, I’ll be hitting the whitetail woods hoping the old Deerstalker treats me well again. Regardless of snow, sleet or rain- I’ll have my trusty sandwich baggie ready! 

For more great writing, photography and video work by outdoors freelancer, Tyler Frantz, visit www.naturalpursuitoutdoors.com. Also, please LIKE US ON FACEBOOK!

 

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