It was the first day of muzzleloader season, and I had anxiously awaited this day for many weeks now. But instead of excitement, I couldn't help but have a sinking feeling of disappointment ......

As I waited in my tree stand for the sun to rise above the eastern horizon. I was excited to be hunting the first week of the season, but I felt so inadequately prepared. As hard as I tried to concentrate on the excitement of the moment, my mind kept going back to the two days prior….

I arrived at the deer camp with my Dad around 2:30 pm. Our plans were to set up the camper, check the zero on our sights, and get ready for the coming week of hunting. I had purchased a new in-line muzzleloader, and was hoping that I could set the sights and feel comfortable enough with the rifle to hunt with it on opening day. As we started setting our sights, however, I quickly realized that the "simple sight alignment" was going to be a major event. The first difficulty was with a scope mount that "simply" would not adequately hold the scope. The second challenge - after the scope and mount had been abandoned - was with a front sight pin that "simply" kept jarring loose from the barrel. The third challenge was with daylight, which "simply" kept slipping away into the darkness. Finally, succumbing to the "simple sight alignment" challenges for the day, we gave up.

That evening, I had to leave camp to return for church services the next day - Sunday, To tell the truth, at that moment, if given a choice, I would have stayed at camp and won the battle with muzzleloader sights. Being a minister however, I sincerely doubt that the church would have been very sympathetic. Dad assured me, though, that my rifle was in good hands, and he would set the sights the next day.

I left feeling a little nervous, but also realizing that if worse came to worse, I could rely on my trusty old Thompson Center "Greyhawk", the muzzleloader I had used last year.

We had a great day at church, but I have to admit that I was looking forward to getting back to the hunting club. Finally, with services completed, I quickly departed the church Sunday evening and headed for camp. I arrived at about midnight. Everyone was sound asleep, but before turning in, I awoke Dad and asked how the "simple sight alignment" turned out. Dad told me that he had no luck! Something was obviously wrong with the gun! All total, over 50 rounds had been fired through the muzzleloader, with every "gun expert" in the camp consulted, and finally the conclusion had been reached that the rifle was defective!

I asked Dad if he had shot my trusty old Thompson Center "Greyhawk". He said that he had, but it was too close to dark to shoot more than a couple of loads. He further told me that the rifle was shooting about 6 inches high and 4 inches to the left - at 25 yards! The feeling I had at that moment can only be described as sheer disappointment. I suddenly realized that I had inadequately prepared for this season, and was in trouble for opening day of muzzleloader season.

Needless to say, I did not sleep very much at all that night. The next day came much too quickly, and I hurriedly packed my "possibles" bag and drove out to the stand site. As I waited high in a Spruce Pine for daybreak, I wondered if I would even shoot if a deer happened to wonder by me. Disappointed at myself for not preparing, and discouraged by the possibility of missing, I decided that I would only shoot if a deer came within 25 yards. Soon, however, I began to doubt if anything would be moving at all that morning. As the sun began to rise, the wind began to blow rather briskly, and nothing was moving - not even the squirrels!

At 9:00 am, I decided that since the weather was so bad, if nothing came by the stand by 9:30 that I was going to go back to camp and set the sights on my "Greyhawk". The only animals I had seen all morning were 3 large dogs that wandered down an old logging road approximately 30 yards from the stand, and they quickly moved out of the area. As I made this decision, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the tree.

About the time I closed my eyes, I heard movement in the thicket behind me. Looking down, I saw a good-sized 8 point buck headed straight for my stand! He had his nose in the air, checking out a scrape line located on the old logging road. The dogs that had wandered by earlier must have "dirtied" his scrapes, and he was coming to clean them out.

The buck didn't spot me until he was directly beneath my tree! Looking up, he stared straightdown the barrel of my trusty old Thompson Center "Greyhawk". Startled, he ran about 10 yards and turned broadside! I could not believe what was happening! I put the "Greyhawk" sights on his heart, and pulled the trigger. He dropped immediately, and as the smoke cleared, I could see a hole in his neck - about 6 inches up and 4 inches to the left of his heart. As I sat in the tree stand quietly thanking the Lord for this blessing, the buck began to kick around !!!