Rifles and pistols and shotguns oh my!

greybeard

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I

I've done the mounted shooting a couple of times. I would like to do it more. I used to deer hunt of my horses.
I got a recurve just for bow hunting horse back but haven't practiced yet.
I'll tell this related story, set decades ago..

When I was young, 14, (1964) this county was still open range. When you crossed from Liberty County into San Jacinto county, there was a big cattleguard on the blacktop, and running off the ends of what was one of the few fences in the county outside of around people's yards. That fence ran out around the National Forest on the south end to keep cattle from straying off open range country. This was mostly all raw country then, forest, but probably not the kind of forest you have in your mind's eye.
A little history...
This area in the mid to late 1800s, from La westward across East Texas was old growth long leaf pine forest. Texas, when it entered the union and even after the Civil War was dollar poor but land rich and the big timber companies bought up hundreds of thousands of acres for just a few dollars/acre from the State. The forests then, were large 90' tall pines, with a pine needle floor. Trees were spaced apart, with little else growing except in the river bottoms, where dense hardwood thickets had sprung up. When the timber companies cut all the old growth off, sunlight hit the forest floor, wind was able to get to it, and seeds of every kind came in and began to grow. What was for hundreds of years before, a clean forest, like walking thru a well kept park, turned into a thicket of vines, hardwood saplings, yaupon, and tanglefoot and still is today. It's known now as The Big Thicket.

When my father bought 124 acres here, there were few people living in the county that weren't cattlemen and farmers. The cattle and hogs were not kept at home, but were branded or ear notched and ran loose--all herds mixed together. Among our neighbors that ran cattle free range, was a cowboy of the old style. He was in his 60s when I met him in '64. He was a ww1 vet, and had served in the US calvary. He helped during spring roundup, done before the brush put on leaves. His name was Peerless Elisor, and was a black man, tall, wiry, friendly and tough as nails. He, like like most people here, ran some pretty rough stock. Horned, mixed breed with lots of Brahma influence.
Peerless was an avid hunter and did most of his hunting from horseback with an old lever action Winchester. One day, he was ambling down a pipeline right of way, when a big buck walked right out in front of him about 100 yards down the right of way. Peerless dropped his reins, and of course the horse reached down to graze, as Peerless pulled the winchester out of it's scabbard. Just as he sqeezed the trigger, something caught the horse's eye or nose and he raised his head up. Peerless came walking out of the right of way with his rifle, saddle and hackamore, his horse still laying down the r-o-w shot thru the back of the head.
 

CLSranch

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That stinks. I've heard of them learning to drop there head when the reins are dropped or other signal. I've shot a 12ga over the head of one of my mares bareback because she wouldn't stay sideways.
 

greybeard

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Oh, he took it in stride I guess. He had a good string of horseflesh. Remember, I said he was an old style cowboy. A very unique individual and my life is richer for having known him when I was just learning. Among his cows was an old leather bag that was a fence breaker. Fence breaker, meaning one that was always in someone's yard since everything else was free range. We fenced our place the first year and she was in with our herefords several times and brother and I would have to run the old cuss out. Peerless finally took a 4x4 and nailed a piece of rawhide on one side and attached it to her neck going up/down so she couldn't get thru a barb wire fence.

Peerless' wife was named Lottie. Wheelchair bound and her fingers were knotted up, but she got by ok. Still cooked on a wood stove and Peerless always had starched shirts and ironed wrangler jeans. I don't remember ever seeing him without a pair of spurs on. He helped us out often and when thanked, either with cash or words, he had the same reply and I can hear it plain today as when he said it back then........."You're as welcome as the flowers in May Mr. ____." I was overseas when he died, and he had to grown sons that inherited his place, but neither did anything with it. Like a lot of folks around here, they sold off their stock when the county voted in the stock law..they didn't own enough land to feed them on.
Roundups out of that national forest were a contentious time..tryin to figure out whose stock belonged to who, tho everyone branded. Couldn't ever know for sure whose calves belonged to who.
 
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