Do you ever get the feeling that it's just not your day?
Today's plan was simple. Dig out the .310 Cadet and test fire some of my recently (and painfully) homemade rounds. For those of you who read this drivel - you may recall I have spent way too much time this lockdown, trimming 32-20 down into .310 Cadet.
Throw in the .22 to practice some "off sticks" shooting for next month's big CWD adventure.
Then lob in the .243 for a wee sit up until last light.
Get my mate to bring his .308 (zeroed by me in the summer for him) as he has had an "incident" with the scope and needs to re-check that it is all still true.
I arrive early and set up the targets at 100m, the spotting scope and the shooting sticks. I have been here now for fifteen minutes; it time I started making headway into my packed lunch. It has often been my practice to each my "refs" on the way to the actual job - a hangover from my working days. For those of you who know - you know.
My mate arrives and I unwrap the .310 and give him it's glorious history. I then show him the box of 100 rounds that I have made and offer him the rife and the rounds to have a go with. Long short. He cannot chamber a single round. Well he is obviously messing around because I made these rounds and I checked each one of the fcukers in the chamber in my Man Cave so don't tell me they don't fing fit.
Turns our they don't fing fit. None of them. Not a one. Well this is awkward. Can rounds grow in size? That must be it. The shitty little feckers must have swollen since I made them. No other explanation is possible.
Any hoo.
On to the .22 - stick practice for our CWD adventure next month. Do not worry, I have brought 300 rounds of .22 ammunition and they are factory loads so no drama with "home loads".
The second shot left the barrel - which is more than can be said for the brass cartridge. No matter what I tried it would not eject. Well now. This is going well. I pack away the remaining 298 rounds of .22. The rifle (as I type) still has the brass stuck in the chamber. I will attend to that in the morning.
So far I cannot get the .310 rounds in and I cannot get the .22 rounds out. I dare not even look at my .243...
I do mange to get my mate's .308 back onto zero - it was shooting low and right. This was following a high seat climbing, strap tangling, rifle dropping episode last month.
Well at least he is good to go.
The weather has turned windy, there is rain on the way and we only have about an hour and half of light left. We were very close to sacking the stalking and going home in the light.
Honour prevailed and we both trudged off for our last "Hurrah".
I was carrying binoculars and TI - so during the course of my ninety minutes I found it relatively easy to identify the three walkers and two dogs that came trespassing through my life.
One lady and her lab were off to one side and moving away from me so, "no harm no foul".
The two ladies with the ESS (whom I heard long before I saw) were in no mood to engage in "social distancing" with me. I saw their dog run to my truck and "mark" its front wheel. They then walked past the truck until I hailed them from the seat and gently let them know they were off the footpaths and encroaching into a "live fire" area. Both ladies, (very well spoken) claimed not to have seen the signs that they were stood next to or to know that they were "out of bounds". However, they both immediately leapt over the barbed wire fence which the clearly knew to be the boundary and shouting apologies, continued on their merry way.
Needless to say - I saw no deer, I have 100 rounds of duff .310 and my .22 is blocked.
Yes I have had better days.
Today's plan was simple. Dig out the .310 Cadet and test fire some of my recently (and painfully) homemade rounds. For those of you who read this drivel - you may recall I have spent way too much time this lockdown, trimming 32-20 down into .310 Cadet.
Throw in the .22 to practice some "off sticks" shooting for next month's big CWD adventure.
Then lob in the .243 for a wee sit up until last light.
Get my mate to bring his .308 (zeroed by me in the summer for him) as he has had an "incident" with the scope and needs to re-check that it is all still true.
I arrive early and set up the targets at 100m, the spotting scope and the shooting sticks. I have been here now for fifteen minutes; it time I started making headway into my packed lunch. It has often been my practice to each my "refs" on the way to the actual job - a hangover from my working days. For those of you who know - you know.
My mate arrives and I unwrap the .310 and give him it's glorious history. I then show him the box of 100 rounds that I have made and offer him the rife and the rounds to have a go with. Long short. He cannot chamber a single round. Well he is obviously messing around because I made these rounds and I checked each one of the fcukers in the chamber in my Man Cave so don't tell me they don't fing fit.
Turns our they don't fing fit. None of them. Not a one. Well this is awkward. Can rounds grow in size? That must be it. The shitty little feckers must have swollen since I made them. No other explanation is possible.
Any hoo.
On to the .22 - stick practice for our CWD adventure next month. Do not worry, I have brought 300 rounds of .22 ammunition and they are factory loads so no drama with "home loads".
The second shot left the barrel - which is more than can be said for the brass cartridge. No matter what I tried it would not eject. Well now. This is going well. I pack away the remaining 298 rounds of .22. The rifle (as I type) still has the brass stuck in the chamber. I will attend to that in the morning.
So far I cannot get the .310 rounds in and I cannot get the .22 rounds out. I dare not even look at my .243...
I do mange to get my mate's .308 back onto zero - it was shooting low and right. This was following a high seat climbing, strap tangling, rifle dropping episode last month.
Well at least he is good to go.
The weather has turned windy, there is rain on the way and we only have about an hour and half of light left. We were very close to sacking the stalking and going home in the light.
Honour prevailed and we both trudged off for our last "Hurrah".
I was carrying binoculars and TI - so during the course of my ninety minutes I found it relatively easy to identify the three walkers and two dogs that came trespassing through my life.
One lady and her lab were off to one side and moving away from me so, "no harm no foul".
The two ladies with the ESS (whom I heard long before I saw) were in no mood to engage in "social distancing" with me. I saw their dog run to my truck and "mark" its front wheel. They then walked past the truck until I hailed them from the seat and gently let them know they were off the footpaths and encroaching into a "live fire" area. Both ladies, (very well spoken) claimed not to have seen the signs that they were stood next to or to know that they were "out of bounds". However, they both immediately leapt over the barbed wire fence which the clearly knew to be the boundary and shouting apologies, continued on their merry way.
Needless to say - I saw no deer, I have 100 rounds of duff .310 and my .22 is blocked.
Yes I have had better days.