As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
It is an odd thing when things shot with a big ass gun do not die, but run off........and then run off when you bust another one.
I was reading Nash Buckingham recount his tale of two 405 Winchesters on a moose hunt in Canada long ago. The prized weapons were the new Winchester loading which was supposed to be the medicine gun of medicine guns of the age. The problem is Nash slammed a 405 300 grain bullet into a moose which flattened the beast and the beast got up and ran off with the lead deposit, spewing heaps of blood.
They tracked that bull and never did see it and it never did stop.
Repeat the situation and Nash with the guide came across the bull of the woods. Again Nash pounds one into the boiler section of the moose, the moose does a prayer on his knees, and is off busting through the brush again. No one knows if it is a hit or miss, as the moose just keeps going and going and going.
Nash's friend on the trip with his 405 busted a moose, then busted it twice more, and then busted it at 15 yards with a head shot, before it stopped trying to make haste.
In shooting a moose later with a 30 40 Kraig, which was the old military round, Nash at over 400 yards drove the bullet home, and while the bull carried it for a bit, as moose carry a great deal of lead, but usually die easy, the bull rolled over and went hoovies horizontal.
Reviewing this, Nash who was a hunter and should have known better, never did make the leap in, Winchester must have had absolutely horrid bullets which did not match the powder load for effective killing.
I suspect the big bruisers had been pounding the boys some and they were flinching and it is always bullet placement which kills things, not bazooka sized loads.
So Nash probably hit too low, like a bad surface chest wound, or the bullet might have flattened out on the leg bone, or deflected to cause a bleeding wound. The point though is, that the haymakers with close shots, still were not driving bullets into shock and awe tissue regions to slow the beastie down for some dispatch shots.
There is a great deal to bullets in killing. Not all bullets fly straight in some are fliers, and it is in that, that sometimes in the 1 in 1000 that you need the bullet to compensate with enough punch or shock, to keep the animal around to become steak.
My first deer was with a Winchester 243 in a Mohawk 600 Remington. He was a buck and running, and my first shot caught him in the ass about an inch from the tailbone. He humped on that, and I shattered his front leg with the second shot, and by that time I was flustered and started missing.
I dogged him though as he was not feeling good, and finally put a round behind his shoulder, which on autopsy blew up there literally in too much speed and too light of 100 grain bullet. I got the buck, but that was about enough 243 for me like Nash in the 405.
It was my first deer, I was young, and excited. Not the best shooting but in the vacinity. That first bullet if it had been an old 30 30 or 35 Remington would have made that buck's ass sag permanent in it would have probably broke the spine. If it would have been Nash's 30 40 the shock of the bullet would have sent pole ax shock to the spine and that would have been it for the deer and I would have whooped it up like Tonto on Get Em up Scout.
I always like reading of bullets and guns, because there is just so much anecdotal information out there. It has not stopped with modern bullets or loads, because I hear these puzzled stories of some friend blowing the ass end off a deer with a 30.06 shooting Nosler 165 handloads, and another nephew in consternation that his deer are not dropping in using factory Nosler loads. In both cases, the 06 was performing to elk, big horn, moose or bear standards, and it was too much gun for the deer.
It is odd in that 405 Teddy Roosevelt took it to Africa, and I seem to recall in African Game Trails, that it worked ok on lion, but simba did not drop in the tracks either. The alternative as the 45 90 Winchester in the old blackpowder load and Teddy's Medicine Gun of the 47 75 at the Elk Horn which killed about everything it touched with old lead bullets.
Animals are odd creatures in their central nervous systems. An elk if you hit it, and it gets up and running again will do 20 miles without stopping. The key to them is hit them hard and not let them get moving. Moose can carry a great deal of firepower, but usually die easily from wounds. Deer when hit get sick very fast from appropriate loads in good locations. The same is true for mountain sheep and goats, but no one shoots enough of them to form judgments on them now.
I suspect Nash was getting pounded by the big thumper, the accuracy was off a bit, the shooting was off a bit, and those 405 bullets were not helping out when it mattered. They either deflected on bone or were flattening out, and not penetrating to slow the animal down for the kill shot. People do a hell of alot better in shooting when they have a little confidence and know the animal is slowing up.
I have always been a fan of large amounts of lead. The old maxim of Karamojo Bell holds gospel in moderate rounds, moderate loads and moderate amounts of lead make a gun an effective killer. The 270 Winchester was the most perfect loading in a rifle ever to transfer energy to the target, meaning that 2700 foot pounds was released inside of a deer, and not blowing up on a shoulder or going through the body. It did this with proper bullets that mushroomed correctly in matching the load at 130 grains. That is a bit light for elk, but then again the 257 Roberts like that 250 Savage found it's way with proper shot placement in making hard to kill elk into camp meat to discount even them.
Some bullets and loadings just work. Some just seem to cause problems.
One of the worst combinations in the world was the old Winchester 94 in 30 30. The guns were not accurate and the bullets were nothing long distance, yet Americans pounded venison for the table in that repeater for years. That loading was a great favorite in Europe when put into a bolt action rifle. In that guise, it was accurate, did not kick a great deal and was a comfortable hunting rifle.
When the Lord makes me rich or has me find in some dead codgers attic a pile of firearms I have dreamed about, I fully intend to find some buffalo type cartridge to play with, as well as a host of the other moderates. I still kick myself as a child in not having money, when the Swedes dumped their surplus service rifles onto Century Arms for 200 dollars, as that 6.5 Swedish was just a perfect firearm to harvest game with.
The best of it is, as time goes by, I find myself longing for muzzleloading shotguns for hunting, to slow things down and enjoy it. Yes I still aim to have a 223 to pop coyotes with among other things, but the idea of a Setter, and just a few shots at birds, after a day in the field, interupted by a sit down lunch with TL is what has me daydreaming of things.
Most days I think if all I had was on old Remington 22 pump, some single shot 12 gauge and whatever the pissed off divorcee was unloading for a rifle that belonged to her former husband's old man, that I would be content past Jesus coming back in trudging along with them.
If I ever get the money, I am going to take TL and my brother on an adventure. We will all have to shoot single shot shotguns for the season, just like the old days before repeaters ruined everything and new 405 loads never did kill the way it was all intended.
"As though 'twere yesteryear this happy gunning day I seem to see again my Jim-dog, exquisite in grace, A-pointin' bobwhites down on sedge-blown Carrier's Hill Where Mord Short's valley climbs t' join the Waldrip place.
No need t' caution stanch Jim-dog, That nose of his spelled birds for any bet, If you did your job half as well as Jim knew his For steadiness to wing and shot; he'd be there yet.
Dear old Lucius held our horses, Hal's and mine, Just out of sight beyond the ridge top's piney rim, And Hal grinned, ambling down to shoot— "God bless a day and dog like this and Jim." They flushed from right where old Jim said they were, We scored, and two were left behind, Jim fetched and nuzzled one to each of us While we caressed and thanked him for the gorgeous find.
To hunters all, from Hal and Jim: Aye! they're long gone; Well, call it sentiment or just old soldiers' whims, We give Youth back a memory for its soldier lads And pray they had and still may have their days— and Jims."
—NASH BUCKINGHAM
agtG
