Dad's Muzzleloader (Brad Kraker post)

I was at the range, as a 19ish year old kid, trying to figure out the muzzleloader I had purchased a few years prior solely because it was in my budget, and not because it was a quality firearm, by any stretch of the imagination. I had loaded up the maximum recommended amount of powder (because of my “more is better” philosophy at that time in my life), and seated some sort of projectile, which I’m sure was the most highly marketed “next big thing” that was available. I pulled the trigger, sending the bullet down range, but not hitting anywhere near the bullseye. I was oblivious to the fact that topping a $160 muzzleloader with a $40 scope all but guaranteed struggles at the range. Shortly after the smoke cleared, I heard a familiar voice, in a very familiar sarcastic tone, say “Good night! What. Were. You. Trying. To. Hit?” I looked behind me to see my uncle Rick, grinning ear to ear, with his cartoonishly massive forearms crossed over his chest, which was his signature stance. “You’re not even close!” He had a sense of humor that would either make you laugh, or cry, or wonder what the heck was wrong with him, lol. Thankfully I shared a fairly sarcastic sense of humor, and could give it back. He proceeded to tell me 2 reasons why I wasn’t on target. The first was, I shouldn’t be shooting one of those modern “in line” muzzleloaders. They were a cheater’s version of a muzzleloader. Any true marksman would use the old sidelock percussion cap style, and would be embarrassed to be seen with anything else. The second piece of advice was that I was shooting it backwards, which of course was making fun of me being left handed. It should be noted, that for my entire life, Rick was known as “Zreke”. I don’t know how or why this name came about, but I never questioned it. The fact is, if you are a Kraker, or you know a Kraker, or if you don’t know a Kraker but have possibly met one once, there’s a good chance you have a nickname. These nicknames aren’t offensive, unless you deserve it, but we Krakers must have some aversion to using names given at birth. Zreke and my dad worked together cutting trees for the better part of 30 years, and they are the two hardest workers I’ll ever know, and they were both strong as a bull. Their personalities, work ethic, and sense of humor are very similar. As a kid I was always amazed by how Zreke could run a chainsaw with one outstretched arm. Try it sometime. Good luck. Any time I needed help doing something requiring heavy lifting and/or insane amounts of physical labor, they were the ones to call. I recall one time I needed assistance getting an 800 pound file cabinet down a set of stairs, and dad and Zreke were there within minutes. Once the cabinet was downstairs, Zreke, who was built like a brick sh*thouse, for lack of a better term, took a couple of minutes to goof around with Evan, who was maybe 3 years old at the time. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do like it was yesterday. Evan was probably wondering who this gigantic but funny guy was. Back to the range part of the story. After suggesting that I ditch my muzzleloader and become right handed, Zreke pulled a muzzleloader of his own out of his work van, and I have to admit, I was jealous. It was, at the time, a .45 caliber (later changed to a .50, after a story that is too long to tell), with brass hardware, dark stained wood stock, double set triggers, and an octogon barrel, truly a sight to behold. THAT was a real muzzleloader. I recall many stories involving that old gun, some hits, some misses, and one year in particular where misfires (when you pull the trigger, but it fails to fire) were a source of much frustration for Zreke. I was not (and am still not) an overly talkative person in most cases, but I could talk to Zreke for hours, especially if the subject matter involved hunting or the shooting sports. I always, especially in my late teens years and after, considered him not only my uncle, but one of my better friends. I took his advice to heart, even when he told me to sell that gigantic .300 Remington Ultra Mag. No one needs something that huge, a .270 would do just fine. He was right. I sold that thing before I ever used it. Zreke was diagnosed with cancer and passed away in September of 2012. I remember the last time I visited him, probably trying to convince myself that we’d go to the range and shoot some tannerite or something. Cancer had taken his 240 pound frame and whittled it down to 160, he told me. I remember during that visit, he made a fist while he was talking. His hands were still huge. He passed away while I was on a bear hunting trip. Part of me wanted to make the drive back home to attend the service, but the other part of me knew what he’d say to me if he knew that I had done that, so I stayed up north. Two years ago, I’m not even really sure the sequence of events, but I “gained custody” of that old muzzleloader, and it immediately became my most prized possession. The brass had lost its shine, the hammer spring needed to be replaced, and there are scratches in the finish, but I don’t care. I made it my mission to take that old gun on one more deer hunt. I took it to the range, and had many struggles trying to get it to hit where I was aiming, after a lot of experimentation. I’m sitting in a canvas wall tent in Missouri as I type this, hours after successfully taking a nice deer with that gun. A nice doe walked past me at 18 yards last night, and offered me a frontal shot at close range. I took the shot, directly into the wind, and by the time the massive cloud of smoke cleared and I could see what happened, the deer was on its final run, hit through the heart. As I approached the deer and knelt down to appreciate it, I noticed it wasn’t a doe, but a small buck that had already dropped its antlers for the year. Hey Zreke, after all that time at the range, trying to figure out how to optimize accuracy, I figured out what to do. I think it’s backwards. You have to shoot it left handed. 🙂 Thanks Zreke.