I'm hunting with a 1943 Remington 1903A3 and some Lake City 1969 FMJ 30-06. I just put this rifle in an old military C stock that I stripped and refinished. Notice that wide and tall front sight blade. Anyone or thing shot with such a fine vintage weapon should have no complaints.
Mesmerizing drive up north to Clarksville in Red River County. RRC is the least populated county in Texas east of a Dallas-San Antonio line. Feels it, too. Long deserted highways. Gorgeous country. Decaying small towns. A closed Walmart. Folks off the unabomber/bigfoot family tree riding 4-trackers down the side of the road. The radio band has nothing but rock oldies: I shot the Sheriff.
But I didn't bother shooting the deputy.
Sat in one of Alan's new blinds Saturday afternoon and chatted with him and his son over the radio. I could see deer's ears over the crown of the hill and they eventually made their way over and down to the feeder where I applied a Lake City FMJ. Second deer with this rifle. I bought and keep it just for Springfield matches. Got yellow National Match tape on the trigger guard.
First deer of the season, a nice big doe. Sure is fun to carry a big horse of an old rifle. This morning I watched two nubbin bucks graze and eat feeder corn for an hour and a half. When they left I went to the house and cut up the doe to transport her home in a cooler. There is something a little celebratory about skinning out and cutting up the first deer of the year. Some of the best things you have to do for yourself. You remember that all things pass. You notice that a lot of dirty work is just work. Having dad's sharp knife is a delight. Old rifles are deadly. Shoot well and be grateful.
Glad to be part of the process.
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