Pennsylvania Game News - August 2017 - 44

full velocity, the results could be spectacular.

H H H

I had just parked my Jeep and entered a
sod field, when I spotted a chuck feeding
about 225 yards away.
It was slightly uphill, so I slipped my
arm into the sling and dropped to a prone
position.
The Lee Dot just covered its head and
I squeezed the trigger. The rifle's crack
made me blink. Then I saw the chuck
lying on its back.
I slung the rifle and walked over. I was
just reaching down to pick him up when
he flipped to his feet, gave me a startled
glance, fled a short distance and popped
into his hole.
For a few seconds, I just stood there,
every bit as surprised as the chuck. Then,
I examined the sod.
There was a fist-sized cavity just
beneath where the chuck's head had been.
Apparently, my bullet had hit right
under his head and the concussion had
knocked him out long enough for me to
walk over.
I'm glad he woke up before I picked
him up! I've never had a live chuck by
the tail.
I once had a live gray squirrel in hand,
though, and I don't recommend it.
I had driven up to Ken Wright's gun
shop to pick up a .219 Donaldson Wasp
on which he'd mounted a scope. I zeroed
it in on the range outside the shop, and
with a few cartridges left, I took the long
way home to a hunting spot. I killed three
crows with shots at about 150 yards. And
with one cartridge left, I spotted a gray
squirrel about that distance away.
Squirrels were in season, and through
the 10X scope the squirrel looked plenty
big - so I thought I'd try a head shot to
44

get all the meat I could from it.
I waited until the squirrel stopped
moving, then squeezed the trigger and
it tumbled. I walked over to pick it up,
thinking I had a darn good rifle - three
crows and a squirrel with my first four
shots.
When I got to the squirrel, it was lying
on its back with legs spread. I reached
down with my left hand, my first two
fingers bracketing its throat, the last two
and my thumb gripping its rib cage below
the front legs.
Straightening up again, I looked at
the squirrel, which immediately came to.
What the nails of his hind feet did to
my wrist had to be seen to be believed.
Somehow, I still managed to kill that
squirrel and when it all was over I saw
my bullet had split the skin on the top of
its head.
A tenth of an inch higher and it would
have missed it entirely, a tenth of an inch
lower would have killed it cleanly. Placed
where it was, it knocked the squirrel
unconscious long enough for me to walk
over and pick it up.

H H H

One September, on a hot, sunny day
without any breeze - in other words, typical weather for dove hunting - I had a few
doves in the bag and was moving out of
a brushy corner when a dove approached
from my right, just a gray streak in the sky.
He looked as if he'd cross about 35
yards in front of me, fairly high.
That was perfect for my gun, a
20-gauge Model 21, bored modified and
full, and loaded with high brass 7½s.
When the dove reached the perfect spot,
I swung and pulled the trigger.
It puffed up in a ball, a burst of feathers shining brightly in the sunlight, and
arched forward and downward in a curve
Pennsylvania Game News - August 2017

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