Mustangs Rule
Well-known member
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2021
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Mule Deer, Muzzle-Loader, Ash & Rawhide Snowshoes, Plus two Green River Knives
While becoming the “Snowman”, I watched the thick white flakes build up on the heavy wool Poncho that covered my arms, shoulders and legs. I bought it almost two decades earlier in a remote Tarascan Indian Village in central Mexico. I thought of what a great camouflage hunting garment it would be.
Hunting in the snow never occurred then.
Around my neck I had a hand woven wool scarf and on my head I was wearing a bison hair felt Stetson. This finest brand of headgear can take bad weather plus bison hair is so ever warm.
Under the Poncho I was wearing a “Sleeping Indian” brand wool anorak plus knee high wool gaiters of the same brand. My pants were German wool surplus. My boots were a half size larger LL Bean leather upper-rubber bottom Original Maine hunting boots with room for two pair of thick Norwegian Ragg wool socks.
Before putting them on I rubbed some cayenne pepper powder on my feet and between my toes to charge up my circulation.
It could be a long sit.
I snow-shoed in on my favorite 14” X 60” Ojibwa native snowshoes. So much loft, like walking on frozen water. They have the front formed into an upward sharp tip. When lifting up in deep snow that tip breaks through and comes up much easier than the round blunt fronts of the Huron style native snowshoes. They are best in other situations.
After almost an hour I found my “nest” and sat with my back up against a big black oak that still had a few hardy dry orange yellow leaves hanging on to it’s branches.
Black oaks offered the best tasting acorns for native people providing there were no conflicts with Grizzly bears.
I collected some acorns once and had the bright idea of leaching them out in the back of one of my toilets. It worked great but the tannic acid being leached out gave the toilet bowl a subtle brown stain that could not be scrubbed out. My wife made me buy a new toilet, she refused to eat the acorn mash too.
Now it was almost mid December and nearing the end of the long traditional muzzle loader deer season. No scopes, no in-lines, no sabot bullets.
I was in a mixed grove of black oaks and live oaks at 5,000’ in elevation and the snow would dropped the deer down from the thick pine forests at 9,000’ where they hid out during both Archery band rifle season.
In my lap, with the lock and trigger covered by a small piece of wool, was my 50 caliber Thompson Center “Plain Jane” New Englander. Single trigger, large loop for gloves. No shiny brass.
After buying it new I sent it back to TC to have the trigger worked smooth, a larger front sight installed, plus I bought their vintage peep sight.
I also paid them to take it to the range and work up some sweet recipe loads. I had sling swivel stud installed and fitted it with a Whelen sling that fit me just right with thick winter clothing.
At 125 yards, with no rest, but sitting and using the Whelen Sling, no tennis ball was safe.
With a rest, a golf ball was doomed at that range.
There is little to say about the shooting of a buck. The deer came into the oak grove. They looked in my direction. I looked like “Frosty the Snowman” but was warm and comfy. I planned for the dropping thermals.
They were pawing the snow under the live oaks where the snow was less deep. So much snow was still held on the leaves of this evergreen oak.
Slowly, I brought my left knee up high. Slowly, I curved forward and put the flat of my upper arm above my elbow (not the sharp point of my elbow) securely on my knee. I snugged the When sling tight and waited for the smoke to clear but could see deer running.
My buck was not where he was when I fired, but a huge blood trail invited me to follow it. I saw no deer, just ear tips and antler tips sticking up out of the snow.
If you do not know about J. Russell Green River knives, you should. They were America’s first factory produced knives,,,,made in Greenfield, Massachusetts right on the banks of the Green River.
John Russell was in the right place at the right time. He started making knives in 1834 just as the era of the Mountain man was beginning. Many hundreds of buckets of his knives went by sailboat to New Orleans. Then up the Mississippi River to be traded to Indians, Mountain men and even Texas Rangers.
Take note of all the Texas Rangers in The Great Lonesome Dove Series. On one hip was a Colt, on the other was a Green River knife. Ever so many of these knives ended up at trappers Rendezvouses along Wyoming’s Green River.
I bought my first Green River knives right there in the heart of Mountain Man country when I lived in Wyoming. No handles just blades. I made my own handles of bone and elk/deer antlers. Also made my own sheaths out full grain harness grade leather. Sewed them real pretty with thin copper wire. Also always made a little pouch to attach a sharpening stone. Without a stone a knife gets dull pretty quick, just like a man gets dull pretty quick without a wife.
The recipe for that steel was legendary. Such an edge yet not so ridiculously hard it could not be sharpened in a pinch with a smooth river rock. These knives can still be bought new, just as good too.
And Oh Boy ! Could that special recipe carbon steel send off the sparks when used for fire starting.
I used a small Green River paring knife for the delicate opening up work and leg skinning. Then a larger Green River Curved blade “Buffalo Skinner” for the main skinning duty.
I have used that knife for over 40 years now. I respect it, honor its steel and always wash it down. It took years, but it developed this hint of sky-blue patina. Almost like the inside of an Abalone shell. I made the handle for it from a spike elk antler given to me by my western hunting mentor. He was so old, that as kid, he up together with our National Forest system.
I used a fluorescent orange shoulder drag harness to pull my skinned buck through the deep clean snow as I backtracked on snowshoes to go directly to my home. Like so many deer hunts back then, I never turned a key to start a motor.
My horses greeted me, and I used one to help hang my buck in the hay barn
MR
,
While becoming the “Snowman”, I watched the thick white flakes build up on the heavy wool Poncho that covered my arms, shoulders and legs. I bought it almost two decades earlier in a remote Tarascan Indian Village in central Mexico. I thought of what a great camouflage hunting garment it would be.
Hunting in the snow never occurred then.
Around my neck I had a hand woven wool scarf and on my head I was wearing a bison hair felt Stetson. This finest brand of headgear can take bad weather plus bison hair is so ever warm.
Under the Poncho I was wearing a “Sleeping Indian” brand wool anorak plus knee high wool gaiters of the same brand. My pants were German wool surplus. My boots were a half size larger LL Bean leather upper-rubber bottom Original Maine hunting boots with room for two pair of thick Norwegian Ragg wool socks.
Before putting them on I rubbed some cayenne pepper powder on my feet and between my toes to charge up my circulation.
It could be a long sit.
I snow-shoed in on my favorite 14” X 60” Ojibwa native snowshoes. So much loft, like walking on frozen water. They have the front formed into an upward sharp tip. When lifting up in deep snow that tip breaks through and comes up much easier than the round blunt fronts of the Huron style native snowshoes. They are best in other situations.
After almost an hour I found my “nest” and sat with my back up against a big black oak that still had a few hardy dry orange yellow leaves hanging on to it’s branches.
Black oaks offered the best tasting acorns for native people providing there were no conflicts with Grizzly bears.
I collected some acorns once and had the bright idea of leaching them out in the back of one of my toilets. It worked great but the tannic acid being leached out gave the toilet bowl a subtle brown stain that could not be scrubbed out. My wife made me buy a new toilet, she refused to eat the acorn mash too.
Now it was almost mid December and nearing the end of the long traditional muzzle loader deer season. No scopes, no in-lines, no sabot bullets.
I was in a mixed grove of black oaks and live oaks at 5,000’ in elevation and the snow would dropped the deer down from the thick pine forests at 9,000’ where they hid out during both Archery band rifle season.
In my lap, with the lock and trigger covered by a small piece of wool, was my 50 caliber Thompson Center “Plain Jane” New Englander. Single trigger, large loop for gloves. No shiny brass.
After buying it new I sent it back to TC to have the trigger worked smooth, a larger front sight installed, plus I bought their vintage peep sight.
I also paid them to take it to the range and work up some sweet recipe loads. I had sling swivel stud installed and fitted it with a Whelen sling that fit me just right with thick winter clothing.
At 125 yards, with no rest, but sitting and using the Whelen Sling, no tennis ball was safe.
With a rest, a golf ball was doomed at that range.
There is little to say about the shooting of a buck. The deer came into the oak grove. They looked in my direction. I looked like “Frosty the Snowman” but was warm and comfy. I planned for the dropping thermals.
They were pawing the snow under the live oaks where the snow was less deep. So much snow was still held on the leaves of this evergreen oak.
Slowly, I brought my left knee up high. Slowly, I curved forward and put the flat of my upper arm above my elbow (not the sharp point of my elbow) securely on my knee. I snugged the When sling tight and waited for the smoke to clear but could see deer running.
My buck was not where he was when I fired, but a huge blood trail invited me to follow it. I saw no deer, just ear tips and antler tips sticking up out of the snow.
If you do not know about J. Russell Green River knives, you should. They were America’s first factory produced knives,,,,made in Greenfield, Massachusetts right on the banks of the Green River.
John Russell was in the right place at the right time. He started making knives in 1834 just as the era of the Mountain man was beginning. Many hundreds of buckets of his knives went by sailboat to New Orleans. Then up the Mississippi River to be traded to Indians, Mountain men and even Texas Rangers.
Take note of all the Texas Rangers in The Great Lonesome Dove Series. On one hip was a Colt, on the other was a Green River knife. Ever so many of these knives ended up at trappers Rendezvouses along Wyoming’s Green River.
I bought my first Green River knives right there in the heart of Mountain Man country when I lived in Wyoming. No handles just blades. I made my own handles of bone and elk/deer antlers. Also made my own sheaths out full grain harness grade leather. Sewed them real pretty with thin copper wire. Also always made a little pouch to attach a sharpening stone. Without a stone a knife gets dull pretty quick, just like a man gets dull pretty quick without a wife.
The recipe for that steel was legendary. Such an edge yet not so ridiculously hard it could not be sharpened in a pinch with a smooth river rock. These knives can still be bought new, just as good too.
And Oh Boy ! Could that special recipe carbon steel send off the sparks when used for fire starting.
I used a small Green River paring knife for the delicate opening up work and leg skinning. Then a larger Green River Curved blade “Buffalo Skinner” for the main skinning duty.
I have used that knife for over 40 years now. I respect it, honor its steel and always wash it down. It took years, but it developed this hint of sky-blue patina. Almost like the inside of an Abalone shell. I made the handle for it from a spike elk antler given to me by my western hunting mentor. He was so old, that as kid, he up together with our National Forest system.
I used a fluorescent orange shoulder drag harness to pull my skinned buck through the deep clean snow as I backtracked on snowshoes to go directly to my home. Like so many deer hunts back then, I never turned a key to start a motor.
My horses greeted me, and I used one to help hang my buck in the hay barn
MR
,
