Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Muzzleloaders Great Muzzleloading Mishaps

I have had some real success muzzleloading, but have also made just about all imaginable mistakes too, regarding things I should not do with these smokepoles.

One memorable incident, and this could have had serious ramifications, occurred long ago in Washingtons Blue Mountains, December Elk Season. Ignition systems must be totally exposed to the elements there, and I hunted with my T/C Hawken .50 in heavy snow and rain mixed. Fighting my way back to a trail to meet my buddy, I knew my cap was wet, but also observed black water trickled out the muzzle when pointed down. Time to unload and reload.

The cut end of about a 14-inch log made a perfect target at about 25 yards, with its little heart-wood bullseye, so I decided to unload at it, dry everything out, and reload.

When I shot, with a fresh cap, there was a bit of a hang-fire and then a very peculiar muff shot. The 370-grain maxi ball hit the target beautifully, despite that, but then bounced directly back and cracked me on the left shinbone, and lay on the wet ground smoldering in front of my boot.

I had a bruise, but nothing beyond that, and had to add this to my list of lessons learned in the muzzleloding college of hard knocks (literally).

If others are willing to confess mishaps and mistakes, this could be a fun place to do it, not to mention being potentially helpful to other muzzleloading enthusiasts on the campfire.

I know a guy that shot his ramrod down the range on site in day. Same idiot left a patch in his barrel after cleaning his gun on an elk trip and missed a chance at a decent 5x5 that finally walked away after he fired off 3 caps.

LOL!!

Well, just yesterday I took my youngest son to our club shooting matches. During the first match I was a bit distracted keeping one eye on what he was doing and fielding questions from the shooter across the loading table and I didn't put any powder down the barrel.

I was a bit embarrassed when I stepped up to the line and got nothing but a cap pop. It got worse, when I pulled the ball my boy took it and put it in his pocket.

He said he was going to save it to show me when he makes a mistake and I start getting after him for it. And on top of all that the little smart azz beat me in that match.

This one is a safety/procedure related one. Hunting the Burnt Fork of Washington's Touchet River, we later instituted an end of day unload before entering the tent policy.

One of the crew, just before lights out, carefully cleaned his Hawken bore in preparation for reloading clean and dry. When he snapped a cap to make sure the nipple was clear, he aimed it at some dust on the cardboard tent floor covering.

The rest of us, already in our racks, were launched skyward in some confusion at the explosion and smoke. He had never unloaded that .54 and fired a full charge into the ground, filling the old wall tent with smoke, and actually causing the cardboard to go aflame.

i have a buddy that shot his ramrod thru a 50yd target a few years ago. i also know a guy that loaded a hawkens with shotgun powder and blew the barrel off it. worst thing is he called it a experiment,just to see what would happen.he claimed to hav emptied 2 12g shells into it behind a round ball.

Dry balling is one of those things that if you haven�t done it , you will LOL .

So here is my story .
I was up elk hunting in the hells canyon area one fall .
Opening morning I swabbed the barrel , cleared the flash hole . Then looked at my flint . She wasn�t in good shape . But it had not been in good shape for some time yet kept right on sparking .
The sky was breaking and I had about a mile to walk to where I wanted to be at first light .
I remember thinking , you really need to change out that flint . But instead I figured , it would surly spark at least one more time . So I loaded her up and headed off .
Dropping down through the dark timber , I crossed the stream and headed slowly up to the small basin that held the meadow I intended to be at ..
Just as I broke out of the willows there stood a nice 5x6 not 15 yards from me broad side .
I raised the rifle ,pulled the set trigger . He turn his head and looked right at me just as I touched off the main trigger. But instead of a Boom I got a little �Click � sound . To which he sounded of with a full bugle that just about blew my ears off . Then he tears into this little pine
Dam !!! In my suprise I had forgot to cock the rifle . . So I slowly reached up and pulled the lock back to full cock .
He stops and locks at me again . Literally he was so close I could see the snot running from his nose .
Again I click the set trigger and he bugles and turns full to me . I settle the front blade just below his chin and squeeze off . KLTACH!!!!! Goes the lock . The bull turns and heads away down the trail .
Im standing there thinking WHAT THE HELL!!!! Looking at a pan with not a grain of powder in it ..
So quickly I prime the lock . I new he had to be just ahead as I could hear him grunting .
So I reach up and slowly close the frizzen and click the set trigger . Now im ready for a quick shot.
He bugles again and another bull answers off to my right just over a small rise.
So i cow called .
that�s when all hell breaks lose . In my hast to get to where I was going I had inadvertently walked right into the herd which had been moving back into the timber . Cows and young bulls are running all around me, but I cant get a shot as they are moving down through the brush and timber . Not one of them would come into the trail where I could get a shot off .
Then as quick as they were there , all goes quite .
All I could do was kneel there cussing myself for the stupidity . I new better .
After about 5 minutes I stood up and walked on up the trail to where I new lay a big widow maker of a blown down pine . This is my trusty blind and I have taken more then a couple elk while hiding in its roots . thinking maybe I would get lucky I knelt down in the root hole . This had been a good size herd of maybe 50-75 . As such there would be satellite bulls for sure . I also new there was at least 1 other bull that had been within about 100 yards .
Slowly I checked my prime , closed the frizzen . Looking up I caught movement at the other end of the tree . I settle the blade and out step a cow . I swear if I could have made horns grow on her she would have had a massive rack .. I still have my blade on her . My minds going ; HORN???/ nope !! Are you sure NOPE , horns ??? Nope , Dam , Dam ,,,!!!! Still I couldn�t get horns to grow .
I had been so zoned in on her that I didn�t see this BIG 6X7 with big hooked eye guards and drop tines that reached his rump , that had stepped out of the timber about 30 yards behind her .
I remember thinking . BUDY YOUR MINE!!!!!!!
His head goes down and he starts trotting towards me and the cow.
. I squeeze off , KLATCH !!!!!. I grab the lock , cock it , again Klatch!!!!. Now im franticly cocking the gun and squeezing the triggers , Klatch , klatch , Klatch . I swear I must have done that 5 times and now im standing up in near full view and he is still right there..
Im franticly go at trying to get some kind of edge on the flint as he trots right after the cow and out of sight , leaving me standing there like a penny waiting for change .
Im PISSED to say the least . Setting the rifle down , I light a smoke . WHAT the HELL!! I never have issues with that rifle going off . I mean never .
But then it slowly dawns on me . I cant blame the rifle , im the one that didn�t cock the lock , im the one that forgot to prime the pan . Im the one that figured surly the flint would spark one more time .
To this day I don�t leave camp without a fresh load in the gun and a sharp flint in the action
i ended up not filling my tag that year. but its still one of the most memorable huntes i have ever had
lesson learned

Man Alive, Captchee, that was a whole lot of 'larnin' crammed into a precious few muzzleloading minutes!

I have stories for every lesson learned too. I will do the story later, but it is very similar to your flint lesson. With my Hawken, unless it is a perfectly dry day with perfectly dry bushes, I dry the nipple and change the caps all day long.

isnt that what its all about ,learning.
while learning can SUCK , your normaly better for it in the long run

The big issue , wasn�t the flint . The issue was that I wasn�t prepared .
The first bull had surprised me . Because its normally so dark when I head out of camp , I don�t prime tell I can see enough to shoot . In the heat of the moment , reflexes took over .
If I had just taken a second to settle myself , I would have not rushed forward and maybe taken my own inner voices advice and quickly changed out that fint before moving on up the trail .
I still don�t walk in the dark with a primed gun . But I nevever leave camp without a fresh load and a sharp flint

Of course, in the beginning, we are not sure what it is exactly we need to be prepared FOR!

On my very first day of elk muzzleloading ever, I trailed two bulls in heavy snow and actually came up on them, bedded down, at 40 yards.

They were so close, but nontheless I took no chances and knelt with a rest on a snowy stump at the larger of the two six-points.
This was such a gimmee shot, I held on the neckbone, and squeezed the trigger of the old Mowrey .50, not believing my good fortune.

The hammer fell on that cap with a dull "thunk" which I remember with utter clarity, but that was it. No pop, no boom, nothing.

It was at this point that Captchee's description of unpreparedness kicked in. I had no capper, but, still kneeling behind my snowy stump, with the bulls still bedded but both eyeing me with almost bored curiousity, fumbled in my bag for my little round can of Remington #11s.

Fingers cold, and shaking with excitement, the lid wouldn't come off the can until finally it popped off while I simultaneously lost the grip on the lower half. Nearly 100 percussion caps flew out and disappeared into the fluffy snow on and around the stump.

This was finally a bit much for the bulls, and both stood up from their beds, still staring at me broadside. I retrieved a cap from the snow, kind of blew on it, and put it on the nipple. Not wanting them to go off the wrong side of the mountain, I again held on the larger bull's neck, touched her off in a beautiful bang and cloud of smoke....and missed him!

Lessons of the day:
Keep the damned caps dry (that turned out to be a hard one)
Have a capper and dry fresh caps and reloads readily available
Oh, and don't be an idiot and take a low-percentage shot

More of a comical story than anything else. 'Sighted in a .50 cal. TC Hawkins flinter for Pa.'s ML season. It was a long session, and I chewed up the flint pretty good.

To make a long story short, a doe and two fawns came by me about 9:00 on the first day. I got that gut wrenching CLICK when I dropped the hammer-I hadn't adjusted the flint and got no spark. That ol' doe just about flipped a sommersault when the gun mis-fired, and took off barreling up the hill, fawns in tow.

After some choice language that would make a sailor blush, I tore the lock apart and started resetting the flint. Of course, I've got the lock all apart at about the time the deer bumped into another hunter several hundred yards up the hill from me. Of course they came flying back down the hill and right past my stand. I could have dropped my knife on them! Lesson learned-always check the flint before going afield after an extended range session.

I did take a doe late that afternoon, so I did get a little redemption.

November 12. 2007, I soon realized I was hunting the best rut day I had experienced. Eventually a nice 8 point walked up, and I fired my CVA kit sidelock.. The deer ran past and stumbled into a creek, and then ran off like a greyhound... There was no sign. I still don't know how I missed, with a rifle I had sighted in so carefully.. With buck activity high, I loaded another bullet without the powder. I had to go home to pull the bullet. Back at 4pm, a bigger buck was soon broadside at 30 yards! Snap, no cap.... In 50 years, I guess just not my day.. I did get the 2nd buck, at last shooting light on Xmas eve, I was pretty bumbed before that. Learned a lot that day!!!

Oh, how I can empathize with that day!

Not really a mishap... While out in the early doe season, my daughter had enough around 8:30( she had a bad knee) so I took her home. We got to the trail head leading down to our car and I pulled the charge. Looked up and there's a doe gawking at us! "you've got to be kidding me" says I. My daughter turns around and I point out the curious doe. "Great! And my rifle's empty!" "Not for long" I couldnt get the ball puller off the rammer! So I left the cheap shot on the puller and rammed home another charge. She made the 115 yard front quartering shot.

I suppose I've been blessed in that I've never had an "incident" while hunting. I have,however, made all the usual mistakes. Dryballing, getting a ramrod stuck, failing to prime or cap and no doubt others I've forgotten. Fortunately they've all been at either my range or a match. Well, once I did break my ramrod on a hunt but was able to whittle out a hickory limb and make it work.

Now that it's been 15 or more years ago it's funny but it wasn't at the time. We were having our weekly summer, bulls eye ML league and I had elected to shoot a flintlock. A friend of mine came up on my right to shoot his target and I let my rifle down while Bob shot. He told me to go ahead but I declined and explained why. It wasn't two shots later and I'm "in my bubble" and don't see Bob come up to the same place as before. Well, everyone knows where this is going. I slipped the set trigger, the shot goes away and immediately I hear this scream from my right. Not three feet away stands Bob with his head still ducked and rubbing the back of his neck. I apologized profusely but being the gentleman Bob is he told me it was his fault as I had warned him but that he'd never been around flinters. Needless to say he gave me a wide berth after that. I think the experience also messed up his concentration as he finished a lot lower than his normal score.

I once left home with only 3 shots in my possibles bag, when I checked when I got into the field I thought, when will I ever need more than 3 shots? apparently that day...... lesson learned! I still got the deer, but still.

I refer to mine as the "impossibles" bag.

Another topic reminded me of something else I have done that shouldn't be done. At the range years ago, shooting actual black powder, bore fouling happens immediately and you get very few shots between cleanings. Reloading becomes at first difficult and then impossible.

I evidently failed to completely seat a 370-gr Maxi Ball against the charge. When fired, the pressure between the charge and ball bulged the bore and barrel of my TC Hawken.

It substantially degraded patterns, but is still servicable for hunting, with just another lesson learned!

I'll spare the lengthy story but a hang-fire (damned Pyrodex) caused me to shoot a deer in the foot once. I'll never forget the sequence of events:

Trotting deer, well within range. Careful aiming and squeeze of the trigger. The pop of the cap only, the silent uttering of the most suitable 4 letter word I could imagine, the continued careful aiming, and the eventual BLAM when the Pyrodex ignited.

I will never forget the first thought thru my mind: "Gee, I hope it was a clean miss."

It wasn't.

The deer was eventually trailed and killed, but it took most of a day.

BTW, feet bleed profusely.

When I was 16, my Dad gave me a T/C Renegade .54 cal for Christmas the first year of production for them. I went out Christmas day afternoon and sighted it in. I was reliably putting every Maxi-ball in a 4" group at 100yds. I was ready..... I headed to the deer camp that evening. This was in northwest Alabama.

Next day, I couldn't wait to use it. Nobody at the camp, old or young had ever seen anyone actually hunt with a muzzleloader at that point. The old farts gave me hell about it and the couple of other young guys were fascinated by it. I puffed out my chest and told them that I didn't need but one shot. I truly had never missed a deer and had never needed a second shot on one, always dropping it with my first shot.

Back then that club hunted with dogs and you were assigned a "stand" to hunt, where you stayed while the dogs were cast and you stayed there until the huntmaster or his designee came to pick you up. Anyway, the dogs ended up down in the creek bottom directly below me and I could tell they were running a deer hard and heavy and getting closer and closer. I pulled the hammer back and got ready.

I was right at the head of a draw that led down to the only cut in the bluff for some ways up or down the creek where you could come or go from the creek bottom: a natural and well-used funnel.

Suddenly a big buck burst up out of the cut and came running up the draw quartering past me. I smoothly shouldered the Renegade, swung on him, the sights were right, I squeezed the trigger, and followed through. A perfect shot. The rifle roared and belched a huge cloud of white smoke, but the deer emerged out of the right side of the cloud, shifted into overdrive and kept right on going. What the HELL???!!!!

And then I saw it... About 2/3 of the distance to where the deer had been when the Renegade fired there was a 5" diameter dogwood tree with a shattered trunk and big hole right through the middle of it. Son of a beech!!!!

While I was standing there cussin', suddenly the huntmaster and a couple of the old farts appeared. They were all laughing and hootin', and going on about "Ol' Sure Shot" missing. We had a tradition in that club that if you missed, the huntmaster would cut the whole back out of your shirt, and they'd write your name and the date on it and hang it on the wall in the camphouse.

They got ahold of me and drug me out to the road and spread eagled me on the hood of the huntmaster's old Bronco and cut the back out of my brand new, first-time-I-had-ever-worn-it, chamois shirt that my Mama had given me for Christmas the day before.

Unfortunately for me, a couple of my Dad's friends went home that afternoon and went by our house hootin' and crowin' and told everything that had happened. When I came home a couple of days later, Mama was still absolutely furious that I had let them cut the back out of that beautiful shirt she'd given me for Christmas. Next Sunday before church, she lit into all the old farts that were members of the club.

That's been 40 years ago and she still fusses about it......

Unfortunately for my hunting wardrobe, I also missed the next six deer I shot at with that Renegade. Lost the backs out of six more shirts. Then I finally discovered that the rifle shot WAAAAY low if you just pulled the trigger without setting it first, compared to where it shot with the trigger set (as I always did while sighting it in, checking the sights or shooting from the bench). That rifle will literally shoot two feet lower at 30 yds with the trigger un-set as compared to where it hits with the trigger set. And over 6 feet low at 100yds.