Hi Everyone,
Although I have been visiting this site for the last year or so, I just became a member. My handle is actually one of my nicknames amongst the crew I hunt and fish with. My real name is Chris. I’ve had an interest in black powder/muzzleloading firearms since I was in grade school. In point of fact, the story I am about to relate began, at least for me, when I was 11. I hope you enjoy it!
It was 1983. We had moved my grandparent’s on my mother’s side into the nursing home and were cleaning out their place in preparation for an auction and sale of their property. I was “helping.” Actually, I was doing a lot of exploring in all the cool old stuff when I made an amazing discovery in a pile of fence posts and tool handles in the corner of the woodshed.
An old double-barrel muzzleloader was standing in that pile. I grabbed it and went running in the house to show it to Mom and Dad and ask if I could keep it. They humored me. It was not in shootable condition. The locks would not stay cocked. The nipples had been peened over. I suspect my uncle had played with it when he was a kid. I think he was also responsible for whittling away most of the forestock with a pocket knife. It was also covered in a layer of rust, but I proudly brought it home, my big find!
Years passed. Dad was looking for a winter project and decided to clean up the old gun and make a new stock for it. He also tried to do a little research about the gun’s odd configuration. One barrel is a smooth bore, the other appears to have an octagonal bore at first glance. It is actually straight rifled. Since it was prior to the wonders of the internet he didn’t have much luck. He selected a beautiful hunk of cherry and made the stock. The gun went on the living room wall, displayed with other family heirlooms, and that is where it stayed until last spring.
Several years ago I began a project to get my Great Grandpa Hunter’s 1873 Winchester back in shooting condition. It took money and time, but I was successful. I have taken it afield the past three years. That lead to getting my Great Grandma Hunter’s Zulu shotgun up and running (1857 French musket converted to a breech-loading 12 gauge smoothbore). That lead to my Great Grandpa Nelson’s damascus 10 bore. I have taken all of them afield.
This past spring, stuck inside with COVID, my eyes fell on that old double I found in Grandma and Grandpa Waxweiler’s woodshed. Of all of the old guns I had restored, it was in the worst condition; could I get that one shooting?? Thus began the journey. As far as I can tell from the style and proof marks, it was made in Belgium. How it got to this country, I do not know, but it belonged to my Great Great Uncle Schumacher. I completely disassembled the gun and began a more thorough process of cleaning than what my dad had done.
The locks needed a lot of work. I replaced the three lock screws in both locks. Between rust and being buggered beyond belief, they had to go. I also had to recut the half-cock notches in both tumblers as they were not safe in their original condition.
I soaked the breech and nipples in penetrating oil for over a week. Between corrosion and abuse, they wouldn’t budge. I bought replacement nipples from TOW that had musket size threads, but a cone for a #11 cap. A buddy helped me drill out the bases of the old nipples and tap new threads. Little did I know I was only partway there.
When Dad made the stock, he never intended the gun to be fired, so he took some shortcuts. The locks functioned perfectly off the gun, but not once they were in the lock mortices. So I had to finish his inlet job. Then I had to rework the triggers. The barrels did not hook tightly into the breech, so I had to tweak a few things there. Last, but not least I made a new ramrod (yes, I still have the original).
The moment of truth had arrived. My buddy and I took her out, put 90gr of FF and a patched .562 ball down each of the .575 bores, strapped it into his shooting chair, put a string on the trigger, moved back to safety and waited to see if the gun would survive our “proof” load. We did the proof load twice in each barrel. Then we dared to actually hold and fire it with a 70gr charge.
I spent several range sessions over the summer patterning shot in the smooth barrel and finding a patched ball load for the straight rifled barrel. As of this writing, 65gr of FF under a 1 oz (by volume) load of #5 bismuth is my shot load and 75 gr of FF behind a .562 ball and a .020” patch is my deer load. Shooting off the bench I could keep that load in a cool whip bowl out to 50 yards. I will say though, I’m going to cut the notch on the rear sight a bit bigger before next hunting season. Mid-afternoon range sessions were one thing with the current sight notch. The deer woods at first or last light was something else!
To make this long story short, I’ve had this gun afield many days this fall. I missed a small buck a few weeks ago, totally on me. I’ve jumped a couple grouse, but have yet to get a clean enough look to actually pull the trigger.
Then it all came together a little over a week ago. It was a brisk morning and a hot cup of coffee was calling to me. I was about to get out of the stand when I saw movement about 600 yards away. Here came a doe and two fawns through a tree line and out onto my neighbor's field. I never figured they would get to me, but I stayed and watched them come all the way across his field and into mine. They were still nearly 200 yards out. "They’ll never get to me," I thought. There were several trails leading into the woods along my field that they could pick.
I lost sight of them behind a ridge and figured they had ducked into the woods, but they popped over the top at a trot still coming straight at me. It was at this point that something in my brain said, “Hey! Stupid! You might want to get your gun up!” The doe closed the distance to 30 yards and turned broadside to enter the woods. It was a fatal error. That .562” ball did its job and my freezer is now full! I suspect that this is the first game that gun has taken in well over a century, but it will not be the last.
