The old style vest allows free, unhindered movement through the bush.

The two side pockets hold everything a hunter needs to keep his gun in action.

Here the bag-style pocket has been purposely overfilled to show how it bulges outwards and not uncomfortably inwards towards the body.

By Robin Barkes

It is absolutely necessary for a muzzleloader hunter always to carry specific loading elements to keep his gun in action. On the shooting range this is no problem and shooters will be seen returning to their vehicles again and again or scratching around in boxes or bags. But out in the bush everything needed is traditionally carried in a possibles bag strung around the neck or shoulder with an accompanying powder horn or flask. All the loose paraphernalia catch on every branch or clang, clink and clunk as you attempt to move stealthily through thick thorn trees, or leopard-crawl silently towards your unsuspecting quarry.

As a student of American history I have often wondered how their early hunters did it. Surely getting up into a point-blank, or at least shootable range to bring down a bear, deer or moose required absolute silence. And what about sneaking up on a war party of marauding Shawnee Indians?

In early South Africa mounted hunters always went out in groups or had local tribesmen drive the game towards their guns. The vast, sometimes open spaces, teeming with wild animals, made finding game very much easier than in the case of American colonists living, hunting and fighting in endless thick forests.

However, just recently, I saw something that suddenly made sense and solved the mystery. There on the front cover of the recent American Muzzleloader magazine lay the answer. The beautiful cover painting shows a vigilant winter-clad colonist with an Indian scout in a snowbound forest. Both men carry long flintlock rifles, but although the Redman carries a powder horn, the Whiteman carries nothing around his person – no powder horn or flask, nor a possibles bag.

I did notice that his heavy overcoat was left open to reveal beneath it a long vest or jerkin, with large bag-type pockets covered by protective flaps. And that’s where he kept his powder flask, balls, patches and spare flints. Well, boys, I just had to have an historic outfit like that and here’s how I went about recreating one.

First I sketched out the pattern, then bravely asked my wife if she would make the outfit for me if I bought the correct amount of corduroy material. But, oh nooo, I forgot that she hates sewing more than anything in the world. A compromise was called for, so I got hold of an ordinary workmen’s blue protective overcoat and laid it flat on the floor. Taking a piece of chalk I marked out the cuts and imagined the body of the coat shortened, reshaped and with its sleeves and collar removed. Yep, that would work.

I spent the morning unpicking the stitches that held on the sleeves, collar and side pockets, and then cut a larger, rounded, collar and reshaped the bottom of the coat. The next step was to cut sections from the removed sleeves to make the two new, larger pockets. These pockets would be of the bag type. In other words, they would not be stitched onto the coat all the way around the side and bottom edges, but only along the inside top back edge, the idea being, as it was back in the 18th century, to be able to fill the pocket and have it bulge outwards instead of having the contents dig uncomfortably inwards against the body. Pretty clever, eh.

And so the scary moment came – unloading the sewing part onto the person who hates sewing more than anything else. All this really entailed was a finishing hem here and there, sewing on two pockets with flaps, and making two additional buttonholes. Anyway, to cut a lot of moaning short, the job was eventually done and now I can proudly show you my authentic 18th-century shooting vest.

Now when I disappear into the bundu with my muzzleloader, everything I need is kept in the two easily accessible side pockets and I can move freely through the thickest thorn forests, or crawl through the brush without hanging equipment catching on or clanging against everything it possibly can. All I carry in the right-hand pocket are ready-filled quick-loaders and a few spare bullets, and in the left-hand pocket a small powder horn and emergency wallet containing a nipple spanner with built-in pricker, spare nipple, cleaning patches and a few extra percussion caps. The only thing that goes aroun my neck is a straight-line capper that is tucked in out of the way behind the vest when not in use.

Other emergency accessories, such as cleaning-jag tip and ball removing screw-head, are kept in the patch box built into the butt of my Hawken. I only use maxi-balls for hunting, so I don’t have to carry patches or grease. When I use my muzzleloading shotgun the big pockets are great for carrying loose wads, shot and powder flasks. Of course, a belt around the waist is necessary to carry a sheathed knife or hatchet, but it can also be used to carry a compact pouch for pipe, ‘baccy and flint and steel.
I guess most people would wonder why we go to so much trouble but, as you can see, once you’re organised, it’s no trouble at all. And it’s in the true spirit of muzzleloading.

Early the next morning Niekie took me on a walk-and-stalk. We began stalking some impala about 150 metres away. As we closed the gap to about 60 metres, some blesbok and more impala arrived and we found ourselves surrounded. One of the animals was about 40 metres away, but as Niekie drew his compound we were busted and the herd scattered. Later we returned to camp for lunch.

After lunch, Greg (Niekie’s friend) drove me down to one of the hides on the farm. I had nothing to do in the hide, so I sat around for almost four hours disassembling and assembling my broadheads to prevent myself from falling asleep. As I looked up I saw a herd of about six blesbok 22 metres away. My heart started to pound. Was this it?

One of the blesbok with rather good-looking horns stepped forward, offering me an almost perfect broadside shot. At that moment time seemed to stand still and I thought, it’s now or never. I decided it would be now. I drew my 45-pound Impala Recurve nocked with an Eastern Excel arrow tipped with a 90-grain Game Getter broadhead and sent it on its way.

The arrow hit a bit high but the shot was okay (later confirmed as a lung shot). The animal bolted off and buck fever took over. Had I done it? Had I harvested my first buck ever?

About 20 minutes later Niekie arrived with the bakkie. We talked for a while and then started the blood search. We soon found large pools of blood, which they said were from the lungs, but it was becoming dark and we had to get back to camp to get the spotlight. When we returned I saw a blesbok in the distance. Was it mine? Sure enough, it was my first buck ever. I was indescribably pleased.

We took it back to camp for slaughtering, which I did with Niekie’s help. I also had my whole face smothered in blood – our tradition.

The rest of the week was spent stalking and enjoying the time.

My greatest thanks to all involved for the most unforgettable time of my life.