Making Snap Caps: A Chronicles Project.

© 2009 Albert A Rasch
.

Making Snap Caps
or Dummy Cartridges

As we are constantly expanding the parameters of what we do here at the Chronicles, I thought we should have a new series that covered projects and ideas, hence "Chronicles Projects."

As Holly at NorCalCazadora has a new .270 and is bereft of any snap caps or dummy cartridges to practice with, the opportunity arises to make some for her!

Winchester-Western .270 Ammunition

You'll need a sharp drill around 3/16th of an inch in diameter. I'm using a brad point metal cutting drill bit. The small diameter brad point doesn't slide around on the curvature of the case, it just digs right in as long as you are near the center of the cartridge case.

I'm using a drill press to make my life easy, but you can do it with a hand drill if you can maintain a steady grip on the hand drill.

I wrapped a piece of fabric around the cartridge case so the jaws of the vise would not mar the brass. You want the vise to hold the case firmly enough so that it doesn't move.



Now before we get started, have you taken a moment to put on some personal protective equipment?

Mr. Albert wears his PPE! So should you.

Before we start drilling, it is a good idea to get a bit of cutting oil. It probably isn't necessary when drilling through brass, but it is a good habit to get into if you cut a lot of metal. It extends the life of your drill bits, and keeps the metal you are cutting cooler. If you are drilling once in a blue moon, use some 3 in 1, or even lard.

Gunk Dark Cutting Oil

Myself, I prefer the rich, full bodied, and somewhat petro-chemical yet peppery scent of the dark cutting oil. Call me untutored, but there is something about that sulphurized, superior lubricity with anti-weld properties, that I think makes it a perfect combination with brass, bronze and anything else I happen to be cutting into.


Get a little oil on the drill bit, and just touch it to the case. That will cut a small divot in the case, then give it another drop of oil. That will be enough to do the job.

Gently work your way through the cartridge case until you cut through.

Hole drilled nice and clean.

Now shake the powder out of the case. Please dispose of it properly. Small children will find it, make powder trains like on Pirate's of the Caribbean, and start fires in the garage. I should know...

Pour all the powder out.

All cleared out.

Now we need to debur the holes we drilled in the cartridge cases. As I am fond of saying use what you got!

Find a convenient twig outside.

Take a pinch of steel wool...

And twist it around the twig.

Debur the hole that we drilled.

That's it. Spin it around a few times until you get any burrs out of the hole we drilled. If you used s twist drill that was a little dull, you might get some particularly difficult burs that may need a bit of wet-or-dry sandpaper

Now let's deactivate the primer. Shoot some WD-40 in the case and let it sit 24 hours. This will penetrate the lacquer that protects the primer and prevent the primer charge from firing properly.

Give it a spritz of WD-40 to deactivate the primer.

Now pop it into the rifle and fire it. I have done this many times and I have only had a couple of complete deactivations. Most of the time you get a little "FFiiiizzt," and that's that.

You now have a fully functional snapcap to practice with. Keep them clean, and use them to practice your sight picture, action manipulation, firing technique, etc.; the uses are limited to the imagination.

The following technique for making homemade snap caps requires either a drill press, or lathe. I'll revisit this particular method in the future when I pick up a few more snap caps.

The following is a set of 458 Winchester Magnum cases that I made for my Ruger #1.

350gr Soft Point, 500gr Trophy Bonded Bear Claw, and 510gr Soft Point

After following the previous set of instructions, you have to remove the primers.

Safety Warning: You must have safety glasses on! The primer may go off and spit out hot pieces of metal savings!

A primer is made of a soft brass cup with a steel insert that acts as an anvil. Between the firing pin and the anvil lies the primer compound. When drilling through the primer you will go through the cup and hit the anvil. You are better off using an awl to pry out the anvil once you cut through the cup.

Once you have the primer out, you can bore through the cartridge head. Use a drill the closely matches the diameter of the snap caps you are using. A-Zoom makes them as small as a 25 auto cartridge.

Epoxy the snap cap in place by carefully inserting them in the bored out hole most of the way. Then finish pushing it down in place on a flat, hard, immovable surface.

Cartridge head bored out, Pachmayer caps epoxied in.

When you're all done you will have an excellent set of caps. I used them to learn how to cycle my #1 until I could do it faster than my bolt action rifle.

This is the first of many projects that I hope to put together for everyone. Some will be more complicated than others, while some you can pull off with what you might have on hand.

Next project might be the Scary Sharp Axe! That's always fun.

Image Credit: Jacques Corneille

Regards,
Albert A Rasch
The Hunt Continues...

The Last Ivory Hunter: A Chronicles' Book Review

© 2009 Albert A Rasch
.

The Last Ivory Hunter
The Saga of Wally Johnson
By Peter Capstick

Wally Johnson was one of the best professional hunters in Africa. Starting out in Mozambique as a professional ivory hunter when elephants were as thick as fleas, he branched out into gold prospecting and mining. Then he was a safari leader for more than fifty years. He shot nearly 100 lions, 1300 elephants and almost 2000 cape buffalo throughout his many years on the African continent. It was the 1975 Marxist and revolution and eventual destruction of Mozambique that finally forced Wally to leave his beloved country.

Many years later, around a safari campfire on the banks of the Mupamadazi River in the Luangwa Valley in Zambia, Peter Capstick picks up the thread and weaves a new tapestry. In Capstick's imitable style, he has blended the words of Wally and his own comments into a seamless chronicle of an unspoiled Africa where mighty tuskers teemed and a man could carve out his own destiny with a sharp panga, accurate rifle, steely nerves, and his wits.

In over 150 hours of conversations by leadwood and mopane campfires in the African bush, interviews in his home, and conversations with Wally’s family members, Capstick tells us Wally’s career. But this is not a biography in the strictest sense of the word, it is rather a collaboration, a conversation, between two hunters around a campfire. Wally recounts for us how he survived the poisonous bite of a Gaboon Viper, and being gored by a buffalo. He tells us of fortunes gained and lost, of people met, and just as mysteriously disappeared. Interestingly enough, as a bush mechanic Wally had no peer!

Capstick records Wally’s adventures with safari clients (Robert Ruark was one of them); stories about the natives and their magic arts. Capstick and Wally artfully weave a wonderful story, vividly recalling a time that is no more.

These are the reminiscence of a grand old man, a professional hunter retelling the events that were his life, to be recorded by a writer, another hunter. This is the story of a Wally Johnson, hunter, prospector, and refugee who lived an extraordinary life in Mozambique.

As a fan of Peter Capstick, I highly recommend this book; you won't regret it. Capstick is at his story telling finest, and if some of it may seem implausible, maybe unbelievable, remember...

You weren't there!

Regards,
Albert A Rasch
The Hunt Continues...

Know Your Limitiations II

© 2009 Albert A Rasch
.

My buddy Rick over at Whitetail Woods posted a great note on his Tuesday's Tips: TT #37 Know Your Limitations. This reminded me of an incident that I had some time ago.

A Nice Walk

Something told me it was going to be a splendid afternoon.

What the Hell do I know.

That cold front we were having was pushing the balmy air out of its way as it caroused its way down the Florida peninsula. I told Cristal it was a perfect day to be out of doors, doing stuff and having fun. I worked in the garden, checked out the bees, and overall kept myself busy for the better part of the morning.

My stomach was chafing itself up against my spine by the time I realized it was well past my time to indulge in, and partake of sustenance. Walking into the house, my lovely and seemingly psychic wife had already prepared sandwiches and drinks, knowing, as women do, the exact moment of my hunger pangs and arrival.

Image Credit: Hoveringdog
As I was licking the last bit of bacon grease, tomato, and mayo off my finger tips, I thought of how fortuitous I was to live on some land, far from the foolishness of subdivisions and McMansions. I made a comment to my wife about it. She nodded in agreement, and offhandedly remarked that, not only had I not shot any of my firearms in quite some time, but that I hadn’t even done any of my usual scouting either. Handing me the keys to the gun safe, she said I should really go and spend some quality time by myself and do a little shooting and maybe some scouting. “Who knows,” she said, “there could be a hog on the prowl somewhere.” Well I certainly didn’t need anymore encouragement.

I grabbed my Ruger #1 in 458WM, a handful of 510gr soft points and headed to the shop. A squirt of carb cleaner down the breech and a couple of tight fitting patches down the bore later, I was off and down the abandoned rail road tracks in search of high adventure. And maybe a hog or two.

Now as many of you may know, I used to do quite a bit of hog hunting. I have probably killed 150 of them over the last decade. As the years have rolled by, I have done less and less, to the point that I don’t remember the last time I went out in search of game. None the less after today’s fiasco, I am resolved to get back in shape and get back out there. But more on that later.

Image Credit: Daniel James
I crossed the property line out back a few minutes later and headed west on the tracks. They are not altogether abandoned, a historical society runs a couple of diesel-electrics with open cars for tourists on the weekends, and the local power utility keeps it clean in case they have to rail something in that cannot come via the roads. So it makes for very easy access to many neighboring ranches. There’s one in particular , less than a mile up the right-of-way, where I have a standing invitation to shoot hog at anytime. That’s where I set out to go.

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was still high and the skies partly cloudy. There’s been a continuous breeze due to that cold front, and the apparent heat thereby diminished. Ruger in one hand, Randal on my hip, and a 16oz bottle of water in the other hand and I was ready for anything that I could think of.

I think I got about 500 yards or so from my home, when the weight of my .458 started to be noticeable. With the scope its about ten and half pounds or so. Now Col. Whelan thought that a man should be able to hunt all day long with a 10 lbs rifle and not be inconvenienced. I think so too. But I’ll be darned that rifle was getting heavy. My guess at the time was that the Earth’s gravitational field must have increased, but I have since found out that I was mistaken.

I don’t use a sling, so I couldn’t put it over my shoulder. So I did the next best thing and did an African Professional Hunter carry. That is, the rifle was over my shoulder and I was gripping the muzzle end of the rifle.

By the time I hit the kilometer mark I was beginning to question the wisdom of slingless carry, Col. Whelans assertions, and the whole quality time idea. “I must be really outta shape.”, I thought to myself. By then I had sucked down all 16 ounces of water I had brought. I sat down for a while and considered my options. I could go home and forget the whole thing, or I could press on and suck it up.

Like an idiot I decided to suck it up.

I wasn’t far from the ranch anyway, and I really wanted to get out there and scout about. It had been so long, that the act of being out there just over-road any common sense. As if I had any to begin with.

I felt a little better after sitting down, but to tell the truth my arm was more than a little sore. But none the less I kept on going and managed to get to the back end of the ranch without mishap.

Image Credit: VROG

The wire sagged a little there, so I slung a leg over the fence. As my foot hit the ground, I terrible cramp took me by surprise. I lost my balance and dropped straight on the barbed wire. It snagged my shorts, and I toppled over to land heavily on my side, slamming my head on the ground, and managing to drive the brass butt end of my Randal knife straight up into my side, right below my ribs.

I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breath, and the pain in my quadriceps wouldn’t let me think of anything but that. An eternity had passed before I could straighten my leg out. It seemed a mountain lion had grabbed me from behind taken a bite and let me go. My head was throbbing and felt like someone had belted it with a wet sandbag, and my side was beginning to turn different shades of purple. I thought for sure I had broken something somewhere, but no, I was in one piece, a long gash down the inside of my thigh the only evidence of my mishap.

I was in no shape to hump back over a kilometer, but what choice did I have? No communications meant I couldn’t get the boys to come help me, and quite frankly I didn’t relish the thought of waiting a few hours for them to figure out it was time to go find their old man. My Randal is the Airman model, with the hollow butt, and I keep a magnesium starter in there, some wire, aspirin, a scalpel, and a couple of other odds and ends. So in theory I could have built a fire and just waited.

A fire.
During a drought.
In 90 degree weather.

Great idea, Einstein.

I got myself up and hobbled to the wire. Instead of going over I went through the top and middle strand, the breeze fanning my backend now that my shorts had very little fabric in the crotch area. I still couldn’t straighten out my leg completely and each step I took was as wretched and pain filled as the last.

I guess I was about 200 yards away when I realized I didn’t have my Ruger with me.
A stream of profanity spewed like sulpherous bile from a volcano. I must have gone on like that for at least a couple of minutes, if not more. Really quite colorful in hindsight. I turned around and still muttering curses at anything and anyone I could think of, made my way back to the scene of my almost neutering. There, leaning on the post I had put it on before I tried to climb over the fence, was my #1.

I picked it up with my left hand, and headed back to the god forsaken tracks. I guess I had lost track of the time, because at that moment, I noticed that dusk was quickly approaching. I really wasn’t worried, just miserable. Progress being slow because I was limping, and my side hurt so bad that I couldn’t straighten up.

The sun dropped the last few degrees and night fell. I was at the 200 yard mark again. I was thirsty and the mosquitoes were really beginning to bug me. Big, fat Asian Tiger mosquitoes, considered by many fine sport with an over/under 28 gauge and #8 shot. Misery was officially my new companion.

I happened to look up and I saw a single beam of light far away. I knew who it was. I whistled a sharp piercing note, recognizable to those that know it, followed by three short ones. I sat my hind end down and waited with my annoying Asian friends for my rescuers.

About twenty minutes later Cristal, Blake and Jordan, where surrounding me. I handed the Ruger to Blake, while Jordan and Cristal helped me up. They took turns supporting me all the way back home.

Forty-five minutes later I was showered, medicated, bandaged, and a bowl of hot Italian Wedding soup was poured in me. I felt like a new man! A tumbler of Thor’s Hammer Vodka and ice didn’t hurt either.

There are a couple of lessons to be learned from this misadventure. First I’ll cover the things done right:

1. Everyone knew where I was headed, and we all know several signals to communicate with should the need arise.
2. Used basic firearm safety when crossing over the fence.
3. I did have, at least, a basic kit in case I needed to spend the night.

What I didn’t do right:

1. Physically unprepared. I didn’t realize how bad I have gotten out of shape.
2. Pushing on when I should have stopped, taken stock, and made the right decision.
3. Insufficient water. No reason to neglect to carry an adequate amount.

On my to do list:

Get back in hunting shape. That means long hikes with the boys with a light daypack and a heavy walking staff.
15 minutes of squats, pushups, and crunches every morning. Assorted calisthenics throughout the day.

Fortunately it was a mild lesson, it could have been much, much worse.

Regards,
Albert A Rasch
The Hunt Continues...

Florida Legislators Raid CCW Trust Fund

Friends,

Just got this moments ago. Email addresses and other info to follow.

A legislative alert from the NRA-ILA:
--------------------------------------
***ALERT for All Florida CCW License Holders***

Legislators Raid CCW Trust Fund - Try to Intimidate Governor

DATE: May 11, 2009
TO: USF & NRA Member and Friends
FROM: Marion P. Hammer
USF Executive Director
NRA Past President

In a last minute sneak attack on gun owners, the Florida Legislature raided the concealed weapons and firearms licensing trust fund. This not only effects resident CCW license holders, but non-resident Florida license holders as well!

They took $6 million from the Division of Licensing Concealed Weapons and Firearm Trust Fund that is intended, by law, to be used solely for administering the concealed weapons and firearms licensing program. (Read background information below)

Please Call, Fax, or Email Governor Charlie Crist IMMEDIATELY, and ask him to veto the $6 Million trust fund sweep from the Department of Agriculture & Consumer Services Division of Licensing authorized under Section 59 of the Conference Report of SB-2600.

Please send your email today!!!!!

And/or please contact the Governor's office by phone or fax ASAP.

Phone number: (850) 488-4441 or (850) 488-7146
Fax number: (850) 487-0801

Send your email to the Governor at this address: Charlie.Crist@MyFlorida.com

BACKGROUND:

Right now, the concealed weapons and firearms licensing program is backlogged and overloaded, due in part, to the refusal of budget officials and the Legislature to allow the Division of Licensing to use its own trust fund money to hire more employees and expand/upgrade equipment.

Crates of unopened mail containing license and license renewal applications sit in storage. The backlog of mail sitting unopened, at times, has extended beyond 90 days while existing licenses are expiring because renewal applications haven't been opened and processed.

Currently (although the Division of Licensing has been working weekend shifts to clear the backlog), it is taking 13-14 weeks to process a "perfect" application once it has been opened. That is an unequivocal violation of the law that requires issuance or denial of a license by a specific time –– a violation of law that legislative leaders are condoning by their actions.

THE LAW REQUIRES THE DIVISION OF LICENSING TO ISSUE A LICENSE WITHIN 90 DAYS OF RECEIPT OF THE APPLICATION -- or deny the license "for cause", based upon the criteria set forth in the law. Theft of operating funds by the Legislature is not "just cause" for failure to issue licenses or renewals within 90 days.

While applications sit gathering dust, legislative leaders took $6 million of approximately $8 million held in the trust fund. That $6 million is supposed to be used to pay employees, buy upgraded equipment, upgrade or replace computers or software and to otherwise administer the concealed weapons and firearms licensing program.

BUT, feigning a desperate need for funds for education and health care, legislative leaders recklessly and ruthlessly confiscated trust fund money. Why? Because they were building a so-called "working capital" fund for the 2010-12 legislative term, reported now to be in the neighborhood of $1.8 BILLION DOLLARS. This so-called "working capital fund" is for the use of future legislative leaders.

They didn't take that money for education. They didn't take that money for health care. They didn't take that money to save jobs. They didn't take that money to avoid pay cuts, or budget cuts -- they took the money to help build their own fund.

While Senate leadership reportedly fought to stop the ruthless raids on trust funds, in the end, they simply caved and let the House of Representatives prevail.

The bad behavior doesn't end there.

Obviously fearing the Governor would use his line-item veto to stop trust fund raids, proviso language was inserted in the bill in a clear attempt to intimidate the Governor.

The proviso language, states that if any portion of the moneys swept from this and other trust funds does not become law (meaning it is vetoed), that portion of the money shall be deducted from the EDUCATION BUDGET. This is clearly designed to keep the Governor from vetoing trust fund sweeps, and prevent trust fund money from being taken back out the House leadership's so-called "working capital" fund.

Money in the concealed weapons trust fund came from gun owners.

No money to administer and run the concealed weapons and firearms licensing program has ever come from general revenue, or any other state fund or revenue source. The taking of these gun owner user fees is an unauthorized tax on the exercise of the Second Amendment.

AGAIN, Please call, fax and email Governor Crist IMMEDIATELY, and ask him to veto the $6 Million raid on the Concealed Weapons & Firearms Trust Fund!

Send your email to the Governor at this address: Charlie.Crist@MyFlorida.com

Please send your email today!!!!!

You may also call the Executive Office of the Governor at: (850) 488-7146.


Using the above information, I have created the following:

Sample E-mail

Governor Crist,

Please veto the $6 Million trust fund sweep from the Department of Agriculture & Consumer Services Division of Licensing authorized under Section 59 of the Conference Report of SB-2600.

Money in the concealed weapons trust fund came from gun owners. Hard working, honest people, who vote.

No money to administer and run the concealed weapons and firearms licensing program has ever come from general revenue, or any other state fund or revenue source. The taking of these gun owner user fees is an unauthorized tax on the exercise of the Second Amendment.

Right now, the concealed weapons and firearms licensing program is backlogged and overloaded, due in part, to the refusal of budget officials and the Legislature to allow the Division of Licensing to use its own trust fund money to hire more employees and expand/upgrade equipment.

While applications sit gathering dust, legislative leaders have taken $6 million of approximately $8 million held in the trust fund. That $6 million is supposed to be used to pay employees, buy upgraded equipment, upgrade or replace computers or software and to otherwise administer the concealed weapons and firearms licensing program.

As a citizen of Florida I ask that you stand against this wanton disregard for fiscal irresponsibility and veto the $6 Million raid on the Concealed Weapons & Firearms Trust Fund!

Letters are being forwarded to my Congressmen and Senators.

Respectfully,

Your Name

You guys know the drill

• Open a new tab
• Open your e-mail program
• Cut and paste the Governors address: Charlie.Crist@MyFlorida.com
• Cut and paste the subject line: Veto the $6 Million trust fund sweep.
• Cut and paste the letter and add your name.

Thanks Again!

Regards,
Albert A Rasch
The Hunt Continues...

Blog Posts that are Great, Really Great!

© 2009 Albert A Rasch
.

The Suburban Bushwacker and Hodgeman’s Thoughts

Image Credit: Uncharted Africa

Our intrepid correspondent from the British Isles, The Suburban Bushwacker, has brought us a fantastic video from I believe David Attenborough. He's out in the Kalahari Desert with the "Desert People." The Bushmen of the Kalahari are the finest trackers in the world; an art at risk of being lost. It is a must see!

Up in the northern reaches of Alaska, the Hodgeman is trying hard to to get eaten by a bear. Look at the size of that paw print! I think we ought to find out what kind of firearm he's using and see what other adventures Hodgeman is going to get into! And are those slip on loafers he's wearing? Read more about probably the most erudite, ethical, and honest hunter I know at Hodgeman’s Thoughts.

Regards,
Albert A Rasch
The Hunt Continues...