This One Goes Out to Bill Fowler (Fowler)
Nov 25, 2023 19:59:33 GMT -5
Robster, depcon3, and 15 more like this
Post by Burnston on Nov 25, 2023 19:59:33 GMT -5
Most .44spl literature comes down in one of two spheres of opinion; greatest thing since sliced bread, or fan-boy fodder with nothing more to it that other calibers can't do better. I first fell into it when my M-21 was the only fixed sighted revolver I had, forcing me to make it work in all categories of use; hunting, daily carry, ranch use, so-called "plinking," and so on. In other words, my loyalty to the caliber has been built out of what was at one time necessity and the lack of any other choice. At this point, I've come too far and worked to hard with this gun in this caliber with this load to change simply for the sake of changing.
In spite of what hypothetically can be done better with different platforms, calibers, and more talented shooters, of whom there are many, I feel fairly confident in my "ability," as it were, with this particular pistol shooting its pet load. I base this OPINION on years of game taken on foot and horseback, and at distances ranging from eleven to 111 yards.
I first spotted this eleven pointer before legal sunup; I had staked out his trail two evenings prior and became fairly familiar with his habits. He's got that "old hand" look about him with the fighting scars all up and down his neck and face. Being as I was feeling a little too cocky, he winded me in the woods at about 80 yards, and thus began the next seven hours of our lives, which turned out to be his last. I can only guess how many miles we played tag, but I spooked him at least one other time about four hours into the stalk, if it can be called that, being as he most likely knew I was there the whole time. I saw several other bucks, along with innumerable doe's throughout the day, but for reasons I cannot fully explain, I had a taste for this dude.
At about hour seven, I spotted him at about 106 yards, give or take, this measurement being taken by rough three foot strides as I approached after my shot. It was not an ideal angle, as he was slightly banked away from me looking towards a a small herd of doe's that had emerged from the far tree line. On that note, I cannot help but feel I cheated just a bit as this doe herd served as a good distraction from the armed brush-popper behind him. I'm not keen on taking that far of a shot. However, being that he was already spooked and a good 100+ yards in the open, I talked myself into taking him.
At first he did not react. He simply stood in what looked like slight confusion. After taking about two steps, he simply laid down and expired. I sat in my spot and contemplated the complexities of Louis L'Amour v. Max Brand for about an hour, and after satisfying myself that he was done I dug out this gem. The bullet was lodged just this side of his chest cavity, slightly to the right after entering the back end of his rib cage on the left. His heart was complete mush, leading me to believe that the bullet tumbled inside of him.
This is where Bill Fowler comes in. Not only did he send me a good box full of valuable .44spl brass, but they happened to bear a very unique and "special" head stamp. I cooked up a few of my favorite loads in this brass specifically for this hunt, which luckily paid off in spades. That guy is a class act, and anyone on this forum can see why this brass is such a unique gift.
One of these days I'll post about a hunt, or some accomplishment using another pistol with another load, but I'm struggling to improve upon this rig, and I object to change for change's sake. Big thanks to Bill for adding a very satisfying element to this year's handgun hunt. The fire is always warm and welcoming for guys like him. Maybe he'll pick up Fermin, Ronnie, and Dick Thompson on the way so I can apply my marinating/backstrap skill, while showing them what a good steak tastes like.
In spite of what hypothetically can be done better with different platforms, calibers, and more talented shooters, of whom there are many, I feel fairly confident in my "ability," as it were, with this particular pistol shooting its pet load. I base this OPINION on years of game taken on foot and horseback, and at distances ranging from eleven to 111 yards.
I first spotted this eleven pointer before legal sunup; I had staked out his trail two evenings prior and became fairly familiar with his habits. He's got that "old hand" look about him with the fighting scars all up and down his neck and face. Being as I was feeling a little too cocky, he winded me in the woods at about 80 yards, and thus began the next seven hours of our lives, which turned out to be his last. I can only guess how many miles we played tag, but I spooked him at least one other time about four hours into the stalk, if it can be called that, being as he most likely knew I was there the whole time. I saw several other bucks, along with innumerable doe's throughout the day, but for reasons I cannot fully explain, I had a taste for this dude.
At about hour seven, I spotted him at about 106 yards, give or take, this measurement being taken by rough three foot strides as I approached after my shot. It was not an ideal angle, as he was slightly banked away from me looking towards a a small herd of doe's that had emerged from the far tree line. On that note, I cannot help but feel I cheated just a bit as this doe herd served as a good distraction from the armed brush-popper behind him. I'm not keen on taking that far of a shot. However, being that he was already spooked and a good 100+ yards in the open, I talked myself into taking him.
At first he did not react. He simply stood in what looked like slight confusion. After taking about two steps, he simply laid down and expired. I sat in my spot and contemplated the complexities of Louis L'Amour v. Max Brand for about an hour, and after satisfying myself that he was done I dug out this gem. The bullet was lodged just this side of his chest cavity, slightly to the right after entering the back end of his rib cage on the left. His heart was complete mush, leading me to believe that the bullet tumbled inside of him.
This is where Bill Fowler comes in. Not only did he send me a good box full of valuable .44spl brass, but they happened to bear a very unique and "special" head stamp. I cooked up a few of my favorite loads in this brass specifically for this hunt, which luckily paid off in spades. That guy is a class act, and anyone on this forum can see why this brass is such a unique gift.
One of these days I'll post about a hunt, or some accomplishment using another pistol with another load, but I'm struggling to improve upon this rig, and I object to change for change's sake. Big thanks to Bill for adding a very satisfying element to this year's handgun hunt. The fire is always warm and welcoming for guys like him. Maybe he'll pick up Fermin, Ronnie, and Dick Thompson on the way so I can apply my marinating/backstrap skill, while showing them what a good steak tastes like.
