Just Fudding Around

Son of Sharecroppers

Dan's Excellent Fuddventures!

I’m a lawyer. But far more important to me than my work are my family and my hobbies: in particular, writing, photography, fishing, and guitar. I’m an amateur at all of these things; indeed, I am an amateur at all things important. But I keep trying to learn.

  • Another Afternoon Spent Fudding Around

    Son of Sharecroppers

    I spent another couple of hours fudding around this afternoon. I went back to the spot where I went last Sunday, which is a walk-in access area not too far from where I live. It was another beautiful day, about ten or twelve degrees warmer than last week.

    Once more, I didn’t see anything that I would shoot at. I spooked up a pheasant, but I wasn’t going to bother to take a shot: first, I don’t have a license for pheasant; second, I was carrying my .36-caliber flintlock rifle, which is hardly the gun you’d want to use to shoot a pheasant on the wing.

    I saw some other folks set up with a temporary blind at the edge of a cornfield on the property. They were trying to call in geese–which I considered a bit optimistic, given that it wasn’t all that close to dark. But there ya go. I saw them not long after I entered the access area. So I drove around to the other side of the area and walked in from there. I didn’t see anyone after that.

    I have a license for muzzleloader season. I saw several spots where it would make sense to set up for deer. Because this is a walk-in area, no one can set up a more-or-less permanent blind. I think that I’ll just go in with a stool and make a quick brush blind. The best camouflage, of course, is woven out of stillness and silence.

    Below are a few photos from today.

    As noted, my rifle is a .36-caliber flintlock. It has a Pedersoli barrel and lock. It’s in the poor boy style, with a curly maple stock. I had it loaded with 45 grains of 3F Swiss. It has little recoil with that load.

    I don’t bother wearing camo. After all, I’m wearing a blaze orange cap. I don’t think that wrapping the rest of myself in camo is going to help all that much. And a gray shirt will blend in a bunch anyway.

  • Hunting the Elusive Beaver

    Son of Sharecroppers

    Beavers are feasting on trees on my property. Well, at least one beaver is doing so. Where I live, it’s legal for property owners to hunt or trap beavers causing damage on their property.

    Now, trapping beavers sounds like work. So I have been going out in the evening to see if I can find one of these danged beavers at work and introduce it to a little lead sphere, just about half an inch in diameter.

    Last night, I was out with my Traditions Pennsylvania rifle. I went out again this morning to see if I could spot a wily wabbit. I didn’t see any wabbits, even though–exercising my best Fudderite attributes–I was vewwy, vewwy quiet.

    And, yes, it’s wabbit season. And, yes, there are wily wabbits on my pwopetty. One is usually hanging out under my deck.

    Below is a photo that I took of myself after my little tramp through my little bit of woods. Since I was on my property, I didn’t bother with blaze orange anything.

    As for my jacket: That’s an old sport coat that I have had for many years. Recently, I realized that it’s actually the perfect color to blend into the fall colors around here.

    I know. My lapel was flipped up. I didn’t notice that until after I took the photo. And I didn’t feel like taking another.

    It was a great morning. I sat on the deck for a while after my short pretend hunting expedition and drank coffee.

    This old man has cardiac sarcoidosis, an autoimmune disorder that causes inflammation of the heart (well, one wall of the heart). I’ve had a few challenges lately. In the last few days, though, I’ve felt reasonably well. I’m happy that I can spend this time in a beautiful spot, having fun packing around my flintlocks and pretending like I might actually shoot something.

    I’m not averse to blood sports. But I don’t actually have to shoot anything. For me, it’s just getting outside, walking around and taking in the beauty of this world.

  • Fudding Around

    Son of Sharecroppers

    On some YouTube channels, folks refer to others as “Fudds”–after, of course, everybody’s favorite hunter of rabbits, Elmer Fudd.

    On Sunday, I took one of my flintlocks–a Traditions-brand “Pennsylvania” rifle in .50 caliber–and went out hunting for those wily wabbits. I was vewwy, vewwy quiet.

    I realized that I was kinda cosplaying Elmer Fudd.

    I don’t care. I had a great time. I didn’t even see a rabbit–which made me less lucky than Fudd. I didn’t see a squirrel. I flushed a grouse–but I have no interest in hunting for grouse, and I was carrying a rifle loaded with a patched round ball. There was no way on this godless green earth that I could hit a bird on the wing unless it was moving slowly and was the size of your average oil tanker.

    Oh, I also saw some LBJs–that is, little brown jobs, or birds. I have no idea what they were.

    I also saw, very briefly, one other hunter. I saw him after he rose from a cornfield and let off a couple of rounds from his shotgun, aiming at what appeared to me to be more of those LBJs. If they were grouse, they were tiny little grouse.

    But I had a fabulous time. I walked quite a ways, packing my flintlock. I forgot to take a photo of myself, but I looked something like this.

    That’s another Traditions flintlock–in this case, a Traditions “Kentucky” rifle, also in .50 caliber. I put that one together out of a kit. They’re kinda pretty similar. The Pennsylvania rifle is much prettier–mainly because I put together this rifle from a kit, and I’m not all that great at anything.

    Neither of these rifles is considered at all traditional by hardcore flintlockers. But those folks are very knowledgeable, and they can tell you about all of the features of rifles from different valleys in Pennsylvania and that sort of thing. Those folks ain’t big on these Traditions rifles. That’s okay. Maybe someday I’ll get a corksniffer rifle.

    Until then, I’ll be using these Traditions.

    Oh, I have another–a beautiful flintlock in what they call the “poor boy” style. It’s in .36 caliber. But it has a Pedersolli barrel and lock, so it’s not all that corksnifferesque.

    Wait! I found a photo of myself from Sunday! Yes, I didn’t notice the other weed between my legs.

    Here is where I was hunting.

    The sky was lovely. The wind was lovely. The temperature was lovely. I was Fudding around. I was happy.