"Deer Taken at 1325 Yards" by Blake Ward

STORY IS SO UNIQUE, NEEDS NO INTRODUCTION.
*REPOSTED WITH PERMISSION BY AUTHOR*

I am a Nurse Anesthetist employed by the Department of Anesthesiology at a large hospital in Jackson, MS. I also run our family farm in Onward, MS that has been in our family for 64 years. In 1996 I established a duck and deer hunting club on the same land and named it South Delta Hunting Club. Our farm is made up of 1200 acres of large, expansive fields where we farm cotton, corn, soybeans and rice. These fields are flat as a tabletop due to millions of years of MS river flooding. Growing up hunting this property I was fortunate enough to kill my first as well as several more deer over the years.

I have no military experience. I have never shot rifles competitively or attended any formal shooting schools. As a teenager I was armed with 2 things: a Ruger .270 Winchester and my eyeballs. I learned very quickly that attempting to judge distances across these long, flat fields was nearly impossible with the naked eye. One afternoon while sitting in "the corner", several deer walked out in front of me. By looking at them "I figured" I needed to aim about a foot over their backs to compensate for bullet drop. Not knowing anything about my bullets trajectory or even their approximate distance, I proceeded to unload round after round. After sending each shot downrange, I noticed in the scope that not only was a deer not on the ground but in fact they had not even moved. Once my 5 rounds were spent they started eating again and I subsequently had to "shoo" them out of the food plot because they were in between me and my ATV. It was that day that made me realize that before attempting those shots again, I needed to learn much more about ranging and ballistics.

After that eye-opening experience as a teenager, I have concentrated my hunting efforts on establishing food plots and shot opportunities at reasonable, known distances. Our longest food plots are 150 yards long and anyone with a rifle appropriately sighted-in is instructed to simply "hold right on the shoulder". Upon completion of Anesthesia school at The University of Tennessee and establishing a family I wanted to learn more about why I missed those shots so badly as a boy. It was then when I became interested in long-range shooting approximately 3 years ago.

The internet is a wonderful tool that we didn't have when I was a kid. I found that there are several great websites that specialize in shooting and ballistics that provided me with many hours of education. Two binders and lots of printer paper later I felt much more educated on the subject and I was ready to begin my efforts to shoot better and farther. After reading forum after forum and link after link I decided on the necessary equipment such as rifle make and model, caliber, barrel, stock, bullets, optics, mounts, rangefinder, weather station and ballistic software. I shipped my new rifle-build all across the country getting this done and that done until I was introduced to a Machinist named Alton Britt in Brandon, MS. Alton is a Master Machinist, hunter, gunsmith and award-winning competition shooter. After meeting Alton I asked him to re-barrel my factory .270 WSM with a new competition barrel and re-chamber it in 7mm WSM. Needless to say his work is amazing. After getting to know Alton and finding we had so much in common, we decided to combine our efforts and establish Dixie Precision Rifles, LLC and begin testing our handloads and products.

I am lucky enough to have several friends that were interested in the subject and together we built a shooting range across one of our soybean fields. Our tractor barn is located on the north end of this field and I felt like it was the perfect location for a covered, raised shooting platform. Over a few days we built a solid shooting platform in the barn and installed a sliding glass window overlooking the range which is 1500 yards long. I then took several 4x8' sheets of plywood, stapled targets to them, held them up with 2x4's, placed them every hundred yards from 100 to 1000 and started practicing. Over the next few weeks I had recorded my adjustments which would allow my vertical to be dead-on at each yardage out to 1000 yards. Over the course of shooting and documenting my adjustments I noticed that the adjustments that my ballistic software was telling me to use were slightly off. I recorded my actual data and re-worked my inputs in the software to generate the same numbers I had obtained in the field. I then had the program extrapolate that data out to my maximum range of 1500 yards but I knew in the back of my head that a margin of error would remain present with the software.

The day of the shot:

On the afternoon of January 5th, 2011, two friends of mine, Tim Kelley and Brian Turner, both of Tennessee and amateur shooters themselves, wanted to sit with me at the new platform now known as "The Krowz Nest". We set up the rifle, spotting scope, binoculars, rangefinder, wind meter, and video camera. I then took a few minutes to go over what would be required of us to make a shot on a deer if one presented itself that afternoon. We took time to go through a couple of "dry runs" to practice each of our responsibilities and to go over the terminology we would be using during the ranging process. The weather meter was showing the wind gusting from 3-9mph at directions between 300-360 degrees so I decided to split the differences and set the "dope" for a 6mph wind at 330 degrees. I dubbed them my "spotters". At approximately 5pm 2 does walked out into our food plot. Brian was able to consistently range them at 1400 yards. Since we got the same numbers 3 times, we felt like that was an accurate distance. We then went to the software and made the stated elevation adjustment of 148 clicks (1/4moa each). I then placed the largest doe in my crosshairs and collectively we decided to attempt a shot. Facing to the right, the deer remained in my crosshairs after the shot so subsequently all three of us were able to see the bullet impact the dirt at the base of her back foot. Being so close to the deer, the spray of dirt startled the deer and she ran into the woods. The smaller doe appeared confused and when she stopped running around she had come 75 yards closer to a range of 1325 yards and began eating again. Brian once again was able to obtain three separate ranges on this deer between 1325 and 1328 yards so we felt again that this was accurate. Since the wind was off of my back right shoulder and the bullet impacted the back foot of the deer, I decided to give myself one more 1/4 moa click into the wind. We then went back to the software and obtained the recommended adjustments for 1325 yards. I now suspected that the software was inaccurately calculating my bullet drop approximately 30 inches low. I read that the calculated bullet drop at 1325 yards was 463 inches. Since the height of a whitetails back is approximately 30 inches, and seeing the bullet hit at the base of the previous deer, I decided to add 30 inches to that calculation and predict that instead of dropping 463 inches my bullet would actually drop 493 inches. I then looked at the moa adjustment calculated for a 493" bullet drop and adjusted the elevation down from the 148 clicks that I had dialed in for the 1400-yard shot to 138 clicks for the 493" bullet drop at 1325 yards . Now with a new windage and elevation adjustment, we felt that we could make an accurate shot on the other deer. I then waited for the deer to turn broadside, put the crosshairs on her shoulder and pulled the trigger. All three of us waited during the 2-second bullet flight time with anxiousness and somehow it instead seemed like 2 minutes. Once again, the deer remained in my scope after the recoil subsided and all three of us watched as the deer fell in her tracks. To say that we were excited would be an understatement. It was an amazing experience.

The video camera was rolling the whole time with the intention to get the shot on video and we felt great about what we recorded. When we replayed the footage, we saw that my elbow had bumped the camera just out of the frame of the deer sometime in between the first and second shot. Devastated that I missed the kill shot, it made me feel better when I reviewed the footage and saw that the deer is easily seen standing and eating in the food plot, then the camera was bumped, the shot was taken, and then the camera is adjusted back to see the deer laying dead where she once stood. We then recorded the ATV drive from the barn to the spot where the deer now lay dead. Upon arriving to and examining the deer we see that the bullet traveled precisely through both shoulders making it a perfectly placed bullet. I took several pictures of the entry and exit wounds to examine bullet performance at that distance and velocity.

This was a very exciting and educational experience for the three of us. For me, it was an achievement that culminated from many years of thought, education, practice and determination. I am extraordinarily happy that I was able to experience it with two of my close friends. My hat goes off to Alton Britt and Dixie Precision Rifles of Brandon, MS for giving me the equipment necessary to "drive tacks" at any distance from 100 to-now a whopping 1325 yards.

Happy Shooting

Blake Ward

Heres the youtube link

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YW4c5JYE8GY

"The Ironbound Eider Visits The Swampers"

When the "Traveling Rig" idea first came to me, there were a few birds I knew I had to carve. Of those, the most important in terms of spent carving time was the "Ironbound Eider". As most know, eiders are my favorite bird, from the simplistic plumage, to their flight patterns and decoying, to their heftiness once in hand, I love everything about them. Consequently, to this point, the "Ironbound Eider" is my favorite bird I've carved.

Most seeing this have read about my experience on East Ironbound Island, and hunting from a Nova Scotia duck tub, if not, "CLICK HERE."

Other than my hunt, I knew a good friend of mine was going to hit Massachusetts in January, but I also wanted to get the bird with Captain Brian Rhodes who runs THE SWAMPERS guide service (SEE TAB UNDER "LINKS OF INTERESTS"). Having been on a few hunts with Brian up in Alaska, I know the type guide he is - he's safe, he studies his birds and their habits in order to keep his guests in them, and when all else fails, you can bet he'll stay out as long as it takes to find birds. All 3 are traits I value in a guide, and are the reason I wanted the Ironbound Eider to finish out the season with Captain Rhodes.

Here's what Brian wrote about the hunt. Understand, he's self admittedly not a writer, but in my opinion, a very good photographer. What this entry lacks in words are more than made up for in photographic content.

Hasn't been the warmest here the last few days. Despite getting a truck stuck and having to shovel a little snow, we had a couple real good days this past week.

Also had a cool decoy sent to me by a friend, Justin Harrison, he is doing a little project with 9 'traveling' decoys. Feel free to check out his blog for more info on that.

http://8gaugestudios.blogspot.com/

Hard to believe there is only one week left of the RI season.

Here's a few pics from the past couple days. Not the best light, but I worked with what I had!

***ALL PHOTOS COMPLIMENTS OF CAPTAIN BRIAN RHODES OF THE SWAMPERS GUIDE SERVICE***

Hope you enjoyed this as much as I have. Check back later this week, as we'll have more travels of the Ironbound Eider, as well as a long range rifle shot that's really something special.

-Justin

"High Winds, Swift Currents, and Hopelessness"

Have you ever said something you wished you could take back, but couldn't, for whatever reason? Sure you have, and I've done it more times than I care to think about. But this was different, this wasn't a fight, and I didn't say anything out of anger. Nope, I simply released Gauge for a retrieve. I simply said "BACK"!! A retrieve that I'll never forget, that was probably the most incredible retrieve I'll ever witness, and a retrieve in which I thought I was going to see the death of my main man, Gauge.

Like I said, I'll never forget it. How could I? I had been planning a week and a half long hunting trip to Montana with a good friend of mine for months. We were going to freelance the North Central part of Montana for ducks, geese and pheasants. It was my first trip that far away to hunt, and I had no idea what to expect. I had even less an idea what to pack, so we basically looked like the "Clampetts" as we traveled north and west. What was so strange about that trip was the weather when we arrived. When you think of Montana in early November, sunny and 70 degrees is not what comes to mind - at least to my mind anyway. But, that's just what we were met with, and the trip started off with less than barrel melting shooting.

That all changed on day 3 of the trip. Hal and myself awoke to temperatures in the mid 40's with a wind out of the North at 5-10 mph. That was the last time we would see the temperature get above 15 degrees, and the last time the wind strength would be in the single digits. Throughout the day, the skies got darker, the temps got colder and the winds got stronger. It was as if something very big was slowly waking up after a long nap. I remember thinking the ground itself was shaking. The shooting was phenomenal, and our daily bag changed from wigeon and teal to nothing but greenheads. Overhead, the fabled "grand passage" was taking place as tens of thousands of birds of every flavor (ducks, geese, swans, and cranes) high tailed it South. For about five days, the skies were never empty.

On day 4, we awoke to temperatures in the single (and negative) digits, and hurricane force winds blew from the North. I guess the fact that the locals were buying gas, water and canned goods should have clued us in. It didn't though, we were just having too much fun. We had to hunt hot springs and flowing water though, as everything was beginning to develop heavy ice. It was so cold in fact, that the birds we killed were freezing to the ground if left long enough, and the neoprene decoy gloves froze to my shotgun. Bottomline, it was a miserable type of cold I've not experienced before nor since. Thankfully, the hunt lasted just a few minutes, and Hal and I elected to go get some breakfast, take a break from the pheasant hunting, and do some scouting for the next day.

The local contact I had put me on a little unnamed stretch of the Missouri river that had fast moving water, stayed open all year, and consistently held birds even in the poorest of weather conditions. Hal and I never had to make it to the river to know where we where going to be hunting the next morning - just above the cottonwood trees that lined it's banks, the sky was full of mallards trying to get the wind right so they could land. By the next day, the winds had dropped to a manageable 20 mph, though the temps held and it had begun to snow. Visibility was around 100 yds...no sweat, right? Wrong.

Before I go on, let me just say I've been asked on several occasions "when is it too cold to take a dog?". My standard answer has always been that if you can get them out of the water, for the most part, it's really "never" too cold - within reason of course. Nowadays I add the caveat that the environment may lend itself to not being worth taking your dog out. Several situations come to mind where I may leave mine at home these days, but the big one is ICE. Even in a rice field in Arkansas where the risks for drowning is unheard of, ice scares me. It's tough on dogs even when they can break it as they run - think of it like someone slapping a 2x4 across your chins everytime you take a step...same thing. I'm not pompous enough to sit here and say "I don't hunt my dogs in ice" because I do. What I absolutely don't do is hunt the same dog in ice 2 days in a row. I'll switch out Trapper for Gauge or vice versa. I'll bow them both out if they are too stiff, letting someone else take their dog. But, the following is not about being stiff, it's about not thinking things through and quite frankly, being stupid. It's about watching helplesssly as your dog does what he's been trained to do. It's about how these dogs, with hearts the size of pumpkins, are willing to give so much - they're willing to give their last ounce of energy in fact. In the end, everything worked out this time, and I learned a valuable lesson - a duck/retrieve ain't worth my dogs.

The area of the Missouri we were hunting held enough swift current to keep the river open for the most part, save the slow parts of each bend. And that's exactly where the little goldeneye fell. I didn't think anything about it, I mean, the bird was stone dead just at the edge of the ice. Plus, it was Hal's first goldeneye. Just as Gauge hit the halfway point in the river, the goldeneye rolled over, shook his head and flew a few feet further in and fell (again, appearing dead). I didn't realize until Gauge got to the ice just how bad this situation was about to get. The ice was too thick for him to break through, but it didn't matter as the water was too deep for him to get any leverage and get on top of the ice. Horror striken, I started blowing my "come in" whistle. Whether it was the wind, water, or his own desire to retrieve the bird that was just out of his reach, I don't know, but he wasn't coming back.

After struggling at the edge of the ice for what seemed like hours, Gauge finally managed to hoist himself up on the ice. At this point, I'm about to pass out from all the whistle blowing, but he never looked my way. Every step he took caused the ice to break, placing him back in the same situation as he was at the start. Couple that with the goldeneye attempting another break for it, and you can imagine how the exertion was beginning to take it's toll on Gauge. He would climb up on the ice and just lay in one spot for several seconds. As bad as the visibility was, I could still make out the heaving his chest was making from his labored breathing. He made one final lunge just as the goldeneye made one last attempt at escaping, and both disappeared into the cattails on the far side of the river...and, everything got very quiet. Why I remember this, I don't know, but I remember dropping the whistle from my hand. I also remember thinking, "Mega Whistle my ass."

I'm not sure how long Gauge was out of sight, but it must have been a while as Hal later told me he had decided Gauge was "gone". In fact, the next sound I heard was when Hal cleared his throat in what I'm sure was fixing to precede "Justin, I'm sorry", but as I looked up, I saw that big, hard-headed dog come rushing out of the ice still in hot pursuit of that goldeneye. Where he came out must have held a thicker sheet of ice because it held just long enough for him to finally run that bird down. Then, as he picked up the bird, the ice broke again and this time he went under.

I remember thinking a merriad of thoughts, but the one at the forefront of my mind was how cruel a joke had just been played on me. Those thoughtts and Gauge underwater just lasted a split second though, as he came up, and started clawing at the ice with his front paws again all the way out to the flowing water.

By the time all this was over, he was physically spent, and swam just strong enough to stay afloat, allowing the current to push him way down the river...and, I walked every step of the way keeping pace and encouraging him, begging him to come to me. When he made it to shore, he literally collapsed onto the river rocks, taking in big gulps of air...but you know what? He had that goldeneye.

Mr. Sam Milton once told me "never brag on your dog til you drop the last shovel full...because as soon as you do, they'll make a liar out of you."  While that may be true, I'm not too worried about personal embarrassment - I do that just fine on my own.

What I would like to do is honor our retrievers (whatever the flavor) for what they are - hard working animals that put themselves on the line for the only thing that matters to them - our affection.

 

5 years later, we're both graying, but both still at each others side

PHOTO COURTESY OF ALEC TAYLOR  

HRCH Harrison's Eight Gauge - Gauge

Please understand, this story is less (much less) about that retrieve, but rather my testimony on a lesson that was learned the hard way - but not near as hard as it could have been.

Hope you enjoy and have a great weekend spending time outdoors, Justin