Lessons learned

Hornady Manufacturing
The Hole Story
Published in
7 min readMar 23, 2020

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Wildlife biologist and outdoor writer Larry Weishuhn explains in this Hornady blog why he no longer hunts with a flintlock…

Movement in the shin-tangle alders just to my right 30 feet ahead caught my attention. My first thought was to pull the 44 Mag Ruger revolver on my left hip out of the cross draw holster, but knew the rapid movement might alert and cause a fight, rather than flight reaction in whatever was moving behind the screening of brush.

Ever so slowly I moved the 375 Ruger from on my shoulder to shooting position. Especially since moments earlier I had seen what appeared to be a sizeable, dark “glob” moving ahead of us. Before I could be certain, the dark shadow melted into dense underbrush.

I glanced at my hunting partner beside me. Johan too, sensed danger and raised his 375 H&H to port arms where he could swing it into action. With his chin he pointed ahead, then mouthed the word, “Bear”.

Thankfully it was walking away. I shouldered my rifle, then the bear stopped and turned to look over his shoulder. He raised his nose to scent what the noisy critters behind him were. He was a youngster male, likely a two-year old. His ears were long and close-set and he lacked the heavy jaw and muscled wide head of a mature boar. I guessed he weighed around 175 pounds. In the past when I had been charged by black bears it had been relative youngsters, just like this one full of bravo!

The bear turned full body to face us. He raised his head, moved it back and forth to get our scent. A strong breeze blew his scent to us and we could smell bear. I hoped that distinct odor did not also include fear or aggression.

He raised to stand on his hind legs to get a better look and almost immediately I felt the breeze switch to our backs. In one quick move the bear came to all fours, turned and ran away.

I let out a deep audible breath and my companion did the same — I did not remember breathing the previous full minute. I breathed deeply, re-supplying oxygen to vital organs.

“I wasn’t certain what he was going to do. I thought for a second he might charge, thinking we were another bear invading his hidey-hole”, said Johan.

“Wheeeewww! I might not have been nearly as bravo as he, but the 375 Ruger I carried on my shoulder and the 44 Mag on hip would have served as great equalizers,” said I extremely thankful the bear had run the other way instead of our way. Both Johan and I stood there for several moments before moving on.

Larry’s 44 Magnum revolver would have served as a great equalizer on bear

“The problem is, with as much noise as he made leaving, he probably spooked whatever there had been ahead of us. Let’s head back to camp and have something to eat. Later, I’d like to set up on the point overlooking the four-year old clear-cut. Should be a fair amount of food there for deer and sufficient cover to make them feel comfortable.” I continued.

Walking to camp I thought about what I would have done if had the bear charged. How would I have reacted? Would there have been time to get rifle to shoulder or the pistol from my hip? Would it have been an all-out charge, or merely a false charge where at the last moment the bear stopped short? I knew the Hornady 300 grain DGX load in my 375 Ruger, topped with a Trijicon AccuPoint could stop a charging bear, and too I had great confidence in the Hornady 240 grain XTP loads in my revolver would also do the job on such a sized bear. But would there have been sufficient time to swing those in to action?

I was thankful I had previously gone through the FTW Ranch’s Dangerous Game Hunter’s Course. Having done so, I was better prepared for sticky situations. Plus in the past I experienced some bear charges, hopefully I had learned from those as well.

Walking toward camp I recalled a bear hunt in Maine, hunting over bait with a 50 caliber flintlock muzzleloader. This back during a time when I frequently hunted with muzzleloaders and this one time with a 50 caliber using lead balls.

The hunt had been a long one, initially capitalized by an encounter with a monstrous black bear, which I am certain weighed in excess of 600 pounds. I had previously taken a bear with a 50 inline muzzleloader using a Hornady 250 grain SST bullet in Arizona, which on scales weighed 563 pounds. The one I encountered in Maine was much bigger. I wish I could tell you I eventually got a second chance at that one, but that did not happen.

Moving forward to the last evening of the hunt, I sat on the ground between two stumps 30 yards from the bait. I had been there about 30 minutes when I watched a sow and two cubs approach my pile of Hostess Twinkies, a favored bait in that part of Maine. As they approached, one of the 20 pound cubs went to the bait with the mother. The other was more adventuresome. It decided to find out what the blob was sitting between two stumps. The cub walked to within inches of my feet. I was in a quandary. Should I attempt to “shoo” the cub away and risk attracting the sow’s attention, or, simply let it smell my boots, be satisfied, and hope it would then wander to where its mother was chomping Twinkies.

Suddenly the sow stopped eating and turned toward me. She seemed to notice something did not quite seem right in her neighborhood. Raised and standing on her hind legs she woofed loudly at the cub at my feet, but the cub paid no attention. The sow dropped to all fours and swaggered towards me and the disobedient cub. She slung her head back and forth, popping her teeth.

She had my attention! I raised the flintlock and pointed it in her direction. I did not want to shoot her. The she-bear moved back and forth, woofing and popping teeth, 30 yards away. I picked a spot in front of me and made a mental mark. If she charged and crossed my “drawn line in the sand” I would have to shoot. I hoped and prayed it would not come to that. If she charged I intended to shoot just in front of her and hoped and prayed the cloud of acrid smoke would confuse her and that she would not complete the charge. If she did, it was likely going to really hurt me “dealing with her”.

In less than a heartbeat she charged. She came fast, so many times faster than it takes to tell. Although at the moment it seemed to be happening in slow motion. She slid to a stop inches short of my “react line”! She “woofed” loudly, wagging her head side to side. I kept my flintlock pointed in her direction just in case she suddenly decided to complete the charge from five yards away. If she came now I would have to shoot…

Seemingly a century later she turned to walk away and I let out a sigh of relief. She swaggered back to the bait, immediately turned then came again at full speed. She covered 25 yards in less than a second. Thankfully, again she slid to a stop five yards from me and there “bounced” up and down on her front feet fussing loudly at the cub and maybe, me. The cub remained at my left foot, apparently enamored with my boot laces.

The enraged bear stared menacingly at me for 15 seconds, which seemed like three lifetimes. Then again, she turned to walk away, looking back over her shoulder at me or perhaps her adventurous cub. She stopped, them immediately turned and charged a third time! I doubted she would stop this time.

I was about to pull the trigger when thankfully she stopped and again started bouncing up and down on her front feet. All the while popping teeth loudly and woofing. I kept the flintlock pointed in her direction. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the errant cub finally walk toward the sow. When the cub got close enough, the sow swatted him so hard he flew through the air 20 feet before skidding on the ground on its backside. With the cub properly reprimanded, the sow led the two cubs into the underbrush.

I let the flintlock’s hammer down, took several deep breaths and thanked God I did not have to shoot the bear, and especially for the bear not completing the charge.

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. As it got dark, I gathered my gear and started walking the two miles to where I was to be picked up for the drive back to camp. About half way to my pick up point, I decided to shoot the flintlock into the ground. I would have to do so sooner or later, before cleaning it later that night.

I pointed the front-loader at the ground, cocked the hammer, pulled the set trigger and then moved my finger forward to gently pull the front trigger. The hammer hit the frizzen and made a loud “shhhhhhhhhhh” hissing sound, but nothing else. No bang! At that point my knees buckled and I shook a bit!

I would have had nothing more than a club! All I could have done was try to shove the flintlock as deeply down her throat as possible if she not been bluffing and completed her charge.

Did I happen to mention that was the last time I carried a flintlock into the woods? Does that explain why I carried a Ruger Guide rifle in 375 Ruger and a Ruger 44 Mag Super Blackhawk revolver, both loaded with Hornady ammo? It should!

For bear hunting, Larry chooses Hornady’s 300 grain DGX in 375 Ruger Guide rifle

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