Mauser M03 Blog: April 2017

Sunday, 16 April 2017

Mauser M03 - Barrel Change Accuracy - First Shot - 243 Winchester

Watch this!

Fantastic barrel change repeatability from the Mauser M03 rifle system. :-)

I should add, this is the first shot fired after completely disassembling this M03 Deluxe receiver and stock a few weeks ago, as described in this post.

Friday, 14 April 2017

Hunting with a Mauser M03 - Perfect Accuracy

I followed up my successful stalk last Sunday, described in the previous post, with another visit to the same paddocks late on Tuesday afternoon. As a preview of how that went I'll just say that I was seeing pigs before I'd even unlocked the roadside gate. :-)

I started writing this blog a few years ago to help fill a hole in the internet, being the lack of reports from owners on the performance and accuracy of the Mauser M03 rifle system. Well, I'm ready to say that even though there's more I can do with precision hand loading techniques to wring tighter and tighter groups from these barrels, I'm totally satisfied with the accuracy I'm witnessing, over a bench rest at the range, over the hood of my car or out stalking. The result on Tuesday was three from three, and all quite testing shots. Perfect accuracy.

A young sow at the forest edge. Mauser M03, 270 Winchester, Berger 150gn VLD Hunting

This first one was the larger of a pair I spotted in the shadows of the forest that runs along the opposite side of the paddock I was about to enter from the road. I was sweeping the tree line with my binoculars before making the inevitable noise of opening the gate and felt the usual jolt of excitement, which never seems to fade. Problem is, I was still dressed in town clothes and my Mauser, it's bolt and the bolt head were still secured in three different places. The two pigs were 700 metres away; it was unlikely they would be bothered by me rushing around like Homer Simpson with his hair on fire, changing my socks, lacing up my boots, changing shirts, assembling a rifle, rattling ammunition into a magazine, then unlocking the gate and driving in. I checked; they hadn't been spooked, so I kept driving towards them, quietly, in first gear. Stalking in a Landcruiser. Luxury!

The pigs had moved into the paddock through a hole in the fence made earlier by their friends and found a nearby patch of fresh, green grass. Over summer the sheep and cattle have trodden the earth under the gumtrees into dust while seeking shelter from the sun. A couple of weeks of unusually good and steady autumn rain has transformed these zones into little gardens of Eden. When I was 250 metres from them I carefully turned the Landcruiser ninety degrees to the right, so I could use the hood as a firing rest. I was worried that this move would make them run, but they kept on grazing, out in the last rays of the afternoon sun. I stayed ducked down as I set up a pair of rice-filled bags to support my M03; the 270 Winchester again. It already had a round in the chamber, perfectly safe because of the Mauser's cocking mechanism. I simply needed to swing that cocking lever to the right and fine tune the rifle's elevation with the rear bag. I dialled the Zeiss scope up to 10 power; these weren't huge pigs and flare from the sun was quite troublesome. I paused and thought, 'OK, the barrel has been oiled after the wet day last Sunday, then wiped dry this afternoon with a pull-through. It should print slightly high for this first shot'. I left the scope's elevation set to 200 metres. I didn't bother with the set trigger; the 950gm normal weight trigger is just perfect for shots like this. But I did have my left hand tweaking the butt stock in the rear bag, for aiming, rather than holding the fore stock tightly. This meant that the rifle jumped with the recoil and all I saw after that was the smaller pig bolting as if his life depended on it.

'So what happened?'

I wondered if I'd messed up a perfect opportunity as I started to drive over there, having abandoned all attempts at being stealthy. No pig. 'Shit! How did that miss?' I drove past the fresh lawn of grass seedlings and along the fence and then spotted a tan coloured lump in the older, dry grass, just inside the forest edge. The pig had run 40 metres, got through the hole and then conked out. It was a perfect double lung shot, which is exactly what I'd aimed for. In a moment I'd gone from confused and annoyed to pleased and proud; hunters will know this feeling.

The sun was below the horizon by the time I'd walked up onto the ridge in the adjacent paddock, where I'd shot the big boar on Sunday. Half an hour later the light was fading fast but was still bright enough for me to watch a huge sow walk out from some tussocks and into a clear field, about 150 metres below me. In moments, four medium size pigs caught up with her; piglets from last spring no doubt. I slipped behind the cover of a nearby tree and took a rest with my left hand against the trunk. I waited for the smaller pigs to get out of the way then put a shot into the sow's shoulder. I wanted her to drop on the spot and that's exactly what the Mauser and the Berger 150 grain VLD Hunting bullet made happen. Because she didn't run, her followers didn't run. The three that were still standing after the next shot did though, in three different directions. It was remarkable how quickly they got themselves back together. Only a minute later I saw them further down the slope by a creek, milling around, about 300 metres away, wondering what to do. From previous situations like this I've seen that young pigs will come back if given the chance, so I waited. By the time they were coming closer it was just a bit too dark. I could see them circling around each other, 100 metres beyond where the sow was, but not clearly enough to take a shot.

I walked back to get the Landcruiser in the dark, with a plan to set up with the spotlight and wait. Once I had the car in place and everything ready, some magic happened. It's Easter, and Easter means chocolate, holidays and a full moon. It was the full moon that got my attention, when it came up from behind the same hills that revealed the sun a couple of days earlier, in that glowing red, smoky, foggy, spectacular dawn. The air was crystal clear now and the low angle of the moon lit the field up with surprising definition. I had a wonderful view of the scene below me and plenty of light to see details with binoculars or riflescope. I've never really needed the fine illuminated dot in the Zeiss Victory HT 2.5-10 x 50 scope that I use with this M03. I dialled it right down so it was barely there, this perfect little floating firefly that I could drift over the pigs that were sure to appear. But, the afternoon and evening had been perfect enough and it all came to an end, when a solid blanket of cloud slipped under the moon and shut the show down. Oh well. Next time.

A whopping great sow. Mauser M03, 270 Win barrel, Berger 150gn VLD Hunting

A little orc from the sow's litter last Spring. Mauser M03, 270 Win, Berger 150gn VLD Hunting

Monday, 10 April 2017

Hunting with a Mauser M03 - A Big Boar

Last winter my Mauser M03 and I met up with a sow and seven offspring one cold and sunny morning on a beautiful farm. Click here to open that story in a new window.

Last Thursday, late on a sunny autumn afternoon I was taking my first walk for the season through the same area. I drove quietly through the farm and parked in a sheltered hollow just short of the last gate, which would let me into a paddock that was surrounded by forest on three sides. It had a ridge line running diagonally through the middle, with soft, green pasture falling away to the tree-lines. Just the way the piggies like it. I've been told that mobs of thirty have been seen here. It's about as good a paddock for stalking up on pigs as a fella is likely to find.

The sun was still an hour away from setting as I slipped through the gate and started up to the ridge. My plan was to walk calmly back and forth along the reverse slope, to keep a stealthy watch on all of the forest edges, until dark. That plan quickly went out the window when I tripped over five medium size pigs in the lush grass, no more than 50 metres inside the gate I'd just closed. I was on a march to get up the hill and had my head and eyes scanning to starboard as I came over a crest, which is why I didn't see them at 60 degrees to port when they were only 15 metres away. Still, I saw them before they saw me! I think it was my hands moving up with my earmuffs that attracted the attention of one of them a couple of seconds later. It let out a grunt and started running. Three others were quick to catch up and by the time I had my M03 unslung, cocked and shouldered, they were tightly bunched and 50 metres away, moving fast. How the bullet I fired at the middle one missed all of them is a mystery. The fifth pig was a little bigger and slower off the mark and I switched my concentration to it as I ripped the bolt back and ran a new round into the chamber. My mistake this time was that I tracked the pig with the crosshair rather than running through to its leading edge. Missed again! And then they were gone. :-| No amount of quiet walking along the ridge line was going to bring them back, nor any others that might have been in the area, so I enjoyed the view and the sunset and thought about my poor, out-of-practice shooting efforts. Next time!

Next time was the next day and I felt unreasonably disappointed when the five pigs were not in the same spot. I had my earmuffs on already this time and my Mauser in my hands. Hmmm. Grrrr. I'd seen nothing by the time it was too dark to see anything and upon reaching the car, decided to exit the farm by driving through the gate, over the ridge and out via another two paddocks. I'd wave the spotlight around a bit and still be home for dinner. Those five pigs must have been sitting in the shadows of the forest, watching and waiting for me to walk out of the paddock, because there they were, in the Landcruiser's headlights when I drove over the first crest. I'm convinced these pigs are leftover from the seven piglets I fired at last winter; they reacted so quickly to being disturbed. I didn't even bother trying to set up for a shot. But then the last one, the bigger and slower one, couldn't find the hole in the fence and started running backwards and forwards. I jumped out, set the light, opened the rear passenger door, grabbed my Mauser and poked the barrel through the open window of the open front door, just in time to find Dumbo in the scope, squeezing under the mesh. That's twice they've got away! This calls for special measures!

I gave the pigs and me a rest on Saturday and cooked up a plan for another meeting on Sunday morning. How is it that when the boys and girls at the Bureau of Meteorology say, 'Possible showers from midday or late afternoon', I have the windscreen wipers on full tilt as I'm driving up to the farm, while it's still inky dark? Big, slow, fat raindrops were slipping down the back of my neck when I opened the farm's front gate. I gave a thought to heading back home for a warm breakfast in a warm bed but checked the weather radar on my iPhone first. With a bit of luck the worst of the showers would soon end as a long hole in the radar reflection moved over the top of me. Nice one! By the time I'd driven along the muddy track, past many curious cows and up to my unlucky paddock, there was just enough light in the sky to see the clearer patch in the clouds, as promised by the radar, right overhead. It felt a bit funny to be assessing the weather by looking up at the sky. Ha! I'd already put my raincoat on, back at the first gate, and was about to walk away from the car when I decided to take a chance. It would make me overheat and was noisy, so even though the light was growing quickly I took the time to unlock the car, un-shoulder my Mauser and lay it carefully on the backseat, then move my spare ammo, earplugs, earmuffs and phone from coat pockets to jacket pockets. It took a couple of minutes but it was worth it. Apart from drips from trees (lots of those) there was no more rain to bother me that morning in that unlucky paddock. Maybe my luck was changing?

Or maybe not. I walked all around the paddock and then up and along the ridge line, back and forth. Slowly back and forth. Nothing. There was smoke from a nearby hazard reduction burn wafting in, making it hard to see the tree-lines clearly, not to mention making it hard to breath while going uphill. Then a thick fog joined in, reducing visibility to less than 40 metres. Really?! What else?! The sun came up over distant hills and looked like armageddon through the thick haze, which was now glowing red. Just like 'Nam, man! I got off the ridge and went for a long, straight walk along the adjacent and flatter paddocks, to where I found those eight pigs last winter. And, … nothing. The fog had lifted, sooner than I thought it would, so I headed back up to the ridge line. It took 160 fast and strong steps to get up, via the steepest route. I didn't count my heart-rate but it was surely illegal for my age. That daily bike riding must be helping. A family of magpies in front of me let the whole bloody neighbourhood know that a recovering human was approaching, so I stood for a while to see if they'd get used to me and let up. Nope. And then I saw him; a big, solitary pig, nosing around in the bark under a tall gum tree, about 60 metres away along the ridge. I was bringing my rifle off my shoulder when he decided to see what those stupid magpies were going on about. Did they really need to let the whole bloody neighbourhood know that a top boar was approaching! He decided he didn't like the look of my shape and immediately took off on a trot. I was pleased that he hadn't bolted at top speed and moved forward at my own trot, to a tree I'd use for a firing rest. Despite my elf-like progress, my boots crunched on the sticks underneath and he quickened his pace in response. Then I lost him behind some bushes. I took the chance to move forward to the next tree, 15 metres further on, to reduce the distance that was opening up between us and to improve my sight lines. I quickly took a rest on the trunk and cocked the M03's action. The boar reappeared and was about to run down a slope that would have taken him at full speed out onto one of those green pastures I mentioned, but changed his mind and went straight away from me, still up on the ridge. I now had a clear line of sight for a 150 metre shot. The Zeiss scope was on 4 times magnification so the cross hair was quite steady when it swayed over his big rear end. Texas Heart Shot. Bang! Whock! Got him!

His front legs were still working and pulled him in a scramble down the slope he really should have taken in the first place. He flopped into a shallow erosion channel above the paddock's water dam. I'd already reloaded, but took a moment to pick up the ejected 270 Winchester case at the base of the tree. It's a Norma one, after all! And I reuse them. A short while later I'd moved closer and a second shot from my Mauser put his attempts to escape to an end. Instantly. These Berger 150 grain VLD Hunting projectiles work really well. They open up so quickly and dump their energy so effectively that well placed shots are like a light switch.

I didn't want to leave him in the channel above the dam. I brought the Landcruiser up, got my work-gloves and then nearly blew a gasket while dragging him to a clearer spot. Stuff this! I'll use the 'Cruiser to drag him. I had to go slowly in first gear low range, to avoid snapping the light cord I had. I untied him in the middle of the open pasture, overlooked by the ridge I'd walked along for most of the wet, smoky, foggy, hazy but ultimately lucky morning. I'll climb back up that ridge in a few days and sneak into position, to see if Dumbo and his mates have found him. Chances are.