Final Comments On The Modern Sporting Rifle

A small 10-point fell to the “modern 30-30”

Earlier this year I started a little personal project aimed to proof the worse of the so called Modern Sporting Rifle, which is generally an incarnation in one disguise or another of the AR-15 platform, as a legitimate deer hunting rifle. I won’t repeat all the points discussed in the previous blog, but I would like to report on the completed experiment.

After a mostly unfruitful archery season, that is if you measure success exclusively by the weight of your game bag, Opening Day happened upon us. For the glorious Fifteenth I took my Winchester 71 in 348 Winchester to my blind, but must confess that I struggled with taking a “longer” shot using the aperture sights which, although precise, provide no magnification or light gathering capability. Being of middle age clarity of the target is achieved through optics, not effort or good intentions.

So, on the sixteenth I listened to the voice of reason and brought my WW-15 (an AR-15 with different letters) in 7,62x39 and topped with an excellent Leupold VX-R with a 30mm tube which helps with light gathering, especially for early and late hours when deer are most active.

I can tell you that this was an enlightening experience. The short overall length, even with the stock fully extended, makes it very handy in the confines of a blind. The detachable magazine and positive bolt hold open makes it convenient to load, and especially unload, the rifle making it safe and secure while climbing ladders, entering or exiting blinds or vehicles, etc., and to handle it in the blind and pointing the barrel out of the windows with minimal muzzle movement.

Well, I passed several does, fawns and illegal spikes and fork horns during the sixteenth, and after working at the gun shop on Saturday morning I went back to my vigil in the early afternoon. After reading a couple more chapters from Robert Ruark’s “The Old Man and the Boy” I heard munching on the bait pile, still legal until January 1st, 2019. A little button buck was delighting himself with carrots and I delighted myself in watching him through my binoculars for almost half an hour. The wind was on my face and he never suspected anything. I can only hope that he will get smarter and eventually become a trophy buck.

Around 4:00 PM a shape came out of the woods and into the logging road straight ahead of my blind. I saw it had antlers, but small. Would him be a legal buck? Around my neck of the woods there is the occasional trophy buck, but I measure my trophies by their epicurean qualities, and a young deer is juicy and tender. I used my binoculars to assess the antlers and counted at least five to a side, a lot of points for a very compact rack.

As the young buck came straight at me I exchanged the binoculars for the little rifle, rested it on the blind window and for the first time in the season set my cross hairs on a deer. At about 50 yards, the buck started to consider his options, veered to the left and then to the right and presented a clear broadside shot. And when I touched the trigger I heard the worst sound in the world: CLICK!

Now, I had put several boxes of ammo through the little AR without a single hick-up, and now, at the moment of truth I have just a CLICK!

As the deer went into the trees, as to circle the bait pile, I worked the bolt, ejected the round in the chamber and fed another one. I positioned the crosshair in the place the deer was likely to emerge from the bush, and an eternity of seconds later, there he was, broadside again. I can't remember if he was heading east or west, put little 125 grain bullet hit the mark just behind the shoulder, and the soon to be venison took of running in the direction he came from. As he passed the logging road at a dead run I connected again, with a second shot and just as I lost sight of him I heard him crash.

I unloaded the rifle, first the magazine was out and then the chamber was emptied, locked the bolt open, pocketed only the items I needed to tag the buck, shouldered the rifle and climbed down from my blind. Reloading was done in a second: magazine in, bolt released, safety engaged. Then I walked the logging road until I cut fresh tracks and found the blood spoor. Tracking blood in fresh snow is easy and in no time I came upon the deer.

I took some pictures, tagged it and went back to my blind to wait for dark when my friend Del that was hunting at another part of the property to come and help me. Why drag a deer alone and risk injury and physical exertion when it is so much easier to do that with help?

The final question is: could I have not just used a lever action 30-30 instead of the AR? The simple answer is yes, but the more complex one is that overall the AR is a more convenient rifle. It is safer by being easier to load and unload, having a bolt open device and positive safety, it is generally easier to scope than most lever action rifles, definitely it has a better trigger (which for me is very important) and great ergonomics (including a stock that allows for different lengths of pull, which is important for smaller framed hunters or shooters), and the semiautomatic action allows for a precise quick follow-up shot. Also, the 7,62x39 ammo proved to be more than adequate for deer in the relative close ranges of the north woods.

My conclusion from this not too scientific experiment (a single date point does not constitute a proper experiment) is that there is definitively a place for the Modern Sporting Rifle in hunting. This doesn't mean that you will not see me going back to more classical firearms like a little double 7x57R stalking rifle that I am eyeing, but it just shows that even a conservative hunter like me must accept that firearms design continues to evolve.

Henrique's Hog Hunt

Drawing from the mighty hunter himself

My nephew Henrique came visiting from Brazil to spend a month during one of the nicest summers I can recall here in Traverse City, but his mind was in something much beyond summer and the blue waters of the West Arm of Grand Traverse Bay.

As the old saying goes, "you can take the boy out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the boy," and as soon as Henrique arrived the only things in his mind were hunting and shooting, and maybe a bit of fishing.

As you may or may not know, Brazil has some of the most draconian (and ineffective) guns laws in the world, so prior to his trip to Michigan the only things that Henrique had shot were an old and very loose air rifle and some rounds from a just as old and maybe as loose 410 shotgun.

So, as soon as he arrived at my home he was at the backyard shooting my Crosman 3357 .177" CO2 revolver. I tried to introduce him to other air guns, but he was just in love with the Python lookalike. Some days later I introduced him to Sporting Clays at Cedar Rod & Gun Club, and on the following Tuesday he discovered the world of Trap shooting, and after dropping my daughter and grandson at the Grand Rapids airport it was time to explore Cabela's.

But all these activities could not quench Henrique's thirst for hunting. The problem was that we were (or at the time of this writing are) right in the middle of summer, not the most convenient time of the year for the Sport of Kings, and I had to find a solution or either he would go crazy or worse yet, drive me crazy. The only practical and affordable solution was a hog hunt, and after searching the internet I settled for Super G Ranch, in Morley, MI, about two hours from my home.

Before going on with the story I would like to make a few comments: I really believe in fair chase hunting, but like many other hunters, and probably many of you, I've hunted preserve birds before and hunted in large high fenced properties in South Africa, and found both to have a place in the modern world of hunting. And one of most certain places is in introducing new hunters to the sport, especially when a young aspiring hunter is visiting from a far way place out of normal hunting season.

So we are back to Friday a week or so ago, waking up at 4:30 AM (one must really be a very nice uncle to do such a thing!), getting dressed (in my case, as Henrique slept with his clothes on) and getting on the road (my huntsmobile was already loaded with all the gear.) After a pancake breakfast at McDonalds we arrived at Super G Ranch just after 7:30 AM and Les, the owner, took us to a 540 acres high fenced hunting area about a mile from his home.

As we drove inside the inclosure and parked the huntsmobile under a nice shade tree, three or four pigs came to us as to be fed, and we just ignored them, even a very large hog that slowly moved away.

Henrique geared up, which consisted of a brand new Ka-Bar knife on his belt and my 1949 vintage Winchester Model 70 in 270 WCF. I carried a range finder and my Ruger SP101 357 Magnum, the later more for psychological comfort than real need.

The plan was to walk around the 540 acres until we saw a hog and then approach to a reasonable shooting distance, a classic stalking by any other name, and we started down a two track that pretty much bisected the enclosure. After three or four hundred yards I noticed some movement just off the two track, and we approached carefully and saw two whitetail does. We stared at each other for what seemed like a long time and they bolted into the undergrowth.

Shortly after we came upon a very large cow, most likely pregnant, and shooed her away, before crossing a creek. From there it was uphill, and the temperature started climbing with us.

After another half a mile or so, Henrique spotted some animals. It was a group of four or five very large pigs busily making a meal of whatever they had found. The rangefinder read 130 yards, and we decided to approach and check for hogs. As we closed the distance it became clear that there were only sows. We talked a bit and Henrique said he really wanted a hog.

We abandoned the sows and continued our journey into the "wilderness." After sometime heading west we came across a little marsh and had to cross another (or maybe the same) stream, and then came across some rams. And although the rams would make a nicer wall hanging trophy than a hog, I rather eat porc than mutton (but I will rather eat lamb than porc), so we let them be. They also didn't seem to mind us being around, another reason to ignore the rams.

We started heading south and had to cross yet another stream, and once again uphill we found several rather small pigs, and even with the higher temperatures decided that they were not what we were looking for. But after turning east into the woods to sort of close the loop, I noticed movement far ahead. It was a sounder of maybe ten or twelve animals, and they were foraging leisurely heading for the stream.

We moved at an angle to cut their path and when the sounder crossed the two track that we had originally walked on, two hogs, a black and a red, started fighting. It was nice to see their battle while the large sows moved around, apparently ignoring the would be suitors.

While the hogs filled the woods with their squeals and grunts we approach to forty yards, I told Henrique to kneel, and he selected the black hog, sending a 130 grain Remington Core-Lokt just behind the left shoulder. The sounder broke out towards the marsh, and the black hog arched in the opposite direction, not traveling more than ten yards before collapsing.

Henrique wanted to finish the hog with his new Ka-Bar, but I refused to let the accident-prone young men to risk an injury, and told him to put another bullet into the back of his head.

Les' daughter came retrieve the hog with a front-wheel loader and we walked back to the hunstmobile. We met Les at the barn to skin and quarter the 260 pound hog, and some good conversation, prior to starting back home.

Tomorrow I will smoke one of the hams in my Big Green Egg and bring it to Cedar Rod & Gun Club for Henrique's farewell party prior to his return to Brazil on Friday.

Opening Grouses

Dell Whitman, author and two grouses

Finally the best time of the year has arrived! Gone are the dog days of summer, after some great storms and days of rain the air is cool, the leaves are just starting to change colors and some of the ferns are starting to die.

And believe it or not, today was a great Monday! Well, I left home early enough to think that I was about to go deer hunting instead of being on the way of the joys and challenges of grouse hunting in the luxuriant (and really wet) forests of lower northern Michigan.

I was a Del's by 7:00 AM and after loading Zap and Gena in their crates we drove in a mostly southwestern direction. You don't really expect details on how to find grouse cover, do you?

During the first hour and half we only hunted Gena, and we had eleven woodcock flushes, mostly carefully pointed, plus a large amount of wild mushrooms. As we already knew where we will be at the opening of woodcock season next weekend and did not locate any grouse, we packed up and drove to Matt's home for the second hunt of the morning.

While we waited for Matt to arrive Del provided us with a crackers and goose liver patet and some mildly hot hunter's sausage, and I thanked him in the usual way, by pestering him any way that I can imagine, especially his choice of using an ugly "automatic", when anyone that any sense knows that only a side-by-side gun should be used in such a gentle sport!

After Matt got ready, Del released both Zap and Gena, but before doing so he attached a couple of brand new bells to their collars. I can't say that I like the electronic bippers, but contrary to some better writers opinions there is no poetry in those bells dinging and donging while the dogs crisscrossed the woods after birds. The bells just annoyed us.

Anyhow, on this second hunt we busted through some thick and heavy cover, getting wet to the bone in the process. The balance was another five woodcock flushed, one deer spotted in the distance, a rabbit that was pointed but not shot, and some grouse.

There were two wild flushes, Del shot a young bird pointed at the edge of a two track and I shot a not so young bird pointed by Gena under a tree that made a bee line to my left and was brought down by a 1 1/8 ounces of number eights from the right barrel of my old Laurona shotgun.

A bit latter Gena had a seizure, probably due to hypoglicemia according the vet, and thus the first morning of the 2014 hunting season ended.

I had to be out all afternoon, but tomorrow I will grill my grouse and sauté the mushrooms in butter as a side dish.

The Need of Wildness

Zealous parents raising the children

I spent last week working in China, and although one can see plenty of trees in modern Chinese metropolis like Shanghai it is very hard to accept them as natural, and even harder to associate them with being wild. Those trees form man-made parks, and the wildest creatures that I saw during last week were a sparrow and a magpie, defiant symbols against absolute compliance.

Upon arriving back in Michigan my wife and I drove from Detroit to Traverse City, and yesterday night down to Novi, and in these few days I was able to, at least partially, satiate my need of wildness.

On the road between Kalkaska and Traverse City my wife had to vigorously brake my truck in order to avoid taking "on the wing" a big tom turkey that flew across the road. He glided to the nearby woods like a pterodactyl, and after landing calmly strolled away. We were so close that i could see in detail his coppery breast feathers.

While at our home we could see and hear birds galore, cardinals, cow birds, woodpeckers, crows, seagulls, sand plovers, mallards, and my personal favorites for the wild music they bring to our ears, Canada geese and loons. Of course there were also the neighborhood rabbits and squirrels, for my desperation of those trying to keep tame flowers.

We stayed Sunday afternoon until the sun was about to set over the West Arm of Grand Traverse Bay and behing the Leelanau Peninsula. And the drive home was really exciting. All the way on M-72 and on I-75 down to West Branch we saw countless whitetail deer. It was almost as if the whole Northern Lower Peninsula deer herd decided to have a great spring celebration under cloudless skies. We estimate that yesterday night we saw between two and three hundred deer.

And the final celebration of spring came this noon when I went out for lunch at Alexandria, a great Middle-Eastern restaurant in Novi. We have been observing a goose nest for some time. Of all "wild" places around the suburbs, this couple chose a barrel just besides the restaurant. Mother goose sitting on and in the barrel, and father goose guarding the perimeter  Today we were able to finally see their rewards, as their goslings (I could count six of them) were enjoying the warm spring sun by their mother, while the always vigilant father came to investigate my business.

I understand that wildness is not wilderness, but at least around here our expanding wildlife (please, read "Nature Wars" by Jim Sterba) help maintain an ideal of having nature nearby. As Aldo Leopold said "A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise."

So, at least for now, I believe that Michigan is righter than the parts that I know of China.