Night
Hawk Stories...
Entry 33
The Caribou Mystique
by John E.
Phillips
Page 3
THE HUNT FOR A BLACK-POWDER CARIBOU
On
the third morning of our 5-1/2-day hunt, I took my CVA St. Louis Hawken
loaded with a conical ball to hunt caribou. Because I believed in eliminating
all the possibilities that caused black-powder hunters to fail, I cleaned
the nipple of my rifle to ensure I had a clear passage for the spark to
travel to the powder. Then just before I screwed the nipple back in, I
poured black powder under the nipple. This procedure would help the powder
to ignite and eliminate misfires.
I also used a couple of accessories for my gun including...
* a cap guard, a round piece of plastic that fit over
the cap and the nipple to hold the cap securely to the nipple and prevent
the cap from falling off and
*
a hard plastic nipple protector. Even if the hammer of my gun fell, the
gun wouldn't go off and spook the animals. This nipple guard also allowed
me to cock the hammer and prepare for the shot before the animal came
in close. Then just before I shot, I could remove the nipple protector
slowly and quietly and be ready for the shot.
As we rode out of camp in our large canoe on our third
morning, we saw a small band of caribou with one very nice bull and several
smaller bulls crossing the lake. Napartuk suggested we go to the far shore
where I could get out on the bank and look for a stand near the spot where
the caribou should exit the water. When we landed on the shore, I noticed
a small bush about 50 yards in front of me, which would provide some cover
to hide on the tundra.
Zappia
and Napartuk pulled the boat away from the bank and moved out into the
lake to keep from spooking the caribou. As I waited patiently for the
animals to approach the shore, I cocked the hammer on my Hawken, estimated
the distance of the shot and began to mentally prepare to take the animal
when it came out of the lake. I checked my nipple to make sure the cap
guard was still holding the cap. When I thought of all the things that
could go wrong to prevent me from bagging my black-powder caribou, I remembered
the times my dependable gun always had fired. I felt confident that if
the caribou came within 100 yards, I could down him.
As the caribou neared the shore, I noticed a smaller
bull close to the big bull leading the herd. I thought surely the large
caribou would climb out of the water first. As the caribou moved to the
beach, I aimed just behind the front shoulder of the trophy bull. But
as I squeezed the trigger, the younger bull sprinted and jumped in front
of the trophy bull. When the rifle reported, the younger bull went down.
Although a nice-sized caribou, he didn't fit the description of the huge
trophy I had intended to take. But everyone in camp evaluated my caribou
as, "a black-powder trophy," particularly since no one else had taken
one.
Shooting
a black-powder gun and hunting in this land of the Far North for caribou
made this trip an event of a lifetime for me.
|