An FYI…

Dear Readers:

This website and blog have been a labor of love for just shy of nine years. I am addicted to Traditional Black Powder Hunting, and wish to share my passion for this humble endeavor with anyone who will read or listen.

Writing on a journal page with a brass lead holder.The desire on my part has always been to post a snippet at least once per week. Some months I meet that goal and others I fall short. It takes time to research, compose, edit and post an 18th-century adventure of magazine length and quality. As many of you realize, family circumstances and priorities are, or were, the primary reason for not achieving that goal.

However, in mid-December the platform I use for this website changed. The new software was heralded as revolutionary, a great blessing for the blogging world, the wave of the future.

My posts are simple, or so I thought. I studied the tutorials, and when I took my first stab at posting, I discovered a glitch that will not allow me to center a “Snapshot Saturday” photo. When I attempted to post a full-length article, I hit another glitch that reduced the photo size and skewed the paragraph out of alignment. Fortunately I found a work around, for now.

To add insult to injury, I received a call from my hosting service this week. A third-party provider of key software that supports the blog platform decided early in the fall to discontinue support for the version of their product that the hosting company uses. “You could experience disruptions at any time,” this gentleman advised, with genuine concern and an offer of assistance for migrating the site to a different hosting plan, at additional cost, of course.

My policy in the past was to spend the extra hours to catch up with the changes in technology and make no mention to you, my loyal readers. Under the current circumstances, I am not comfortable following that course of action. From what I understand, this site could crash at any moment with no prior notice; nine years of work might vanish from the Internet in a nanosecond. I suppose certain politicians might embrace such a calamity with great glee and jubilation, wink, wink…

Anyway, please bear with me if, heaven forbid, Traditional Black Powder Hunting becomes unavailable on your browser. In an effort to avoid this situation, I will limit my posts over the next month or so in hopes that what is already published will remain available. But I have my doubts…

Thank you for your kind support.

Give traditional black powder hunting a try, be safe and may God bless you,

Dennis Neely

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“Under Attack”

“Snapshot Saturday”

Kneeling, a fort defender fires his firelock through a gun port in the logs.

The caller has never been to Friendship, the home of the National Muzzle Loading Rifle Association. While responding to one of his questions, I explained the “Fort Greenville Match” that takes place at the two-story blockhouse on the Max Vickery Primitive Range. “This match is one of the few opportunities for a living historian to experience “defending a fort under attack”…

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“Wilderness Classroom Calamity”

A cedar bush lean-to crushed by a fallen limb.

Tree tops received careful scrutiny prior to locating the cedar-bush lean-to described by Meshach Browning. Not a one appeared damaged or diseased. The humble shelter was fine late that sunny spring morning. An hour past noon found it crushed by a powder-keg-sized oak limb… Old Northwest Territory, one valley east of the River Raisin, in the Year of our Lord, 1794.

“Snapshot Saturday”

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“Backcountry Sticky Buns”

“Snapshot Saturday”

An 18th-century woman spreads sugar on rolled out dough.

“What are you fixing for breakfast,” a passer by asked as Jenny Slover spread sugar on rolled-out dough. Slover kept a .54-caliber Jaeger rifle close at hand in her outdoor kitchen. Backcountry settlement, south of Laughery Creek, a year or so before the creation of the Indiana Territory…

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“Referring to a Passage”

“Snapshot Saturday”

A 1750s artist reads from his bound journal.

“Here it is,” Brian Spieldenner, an itinerant artist and journalist, said. “June 23, 1754 (Sat)…”I kept my promise to Capt. Jack not to make another entry in this journal until we were well away from him and his troupe of volunteers…” Great Black Swamp, southwest of Lake Erie, three days from the settlement…

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“Snowshoeing for a morsel”

“Snapshot Saturday”

A traditional woodsman in deep snow.

Deep snow and snowshoes kept the woodsman out of the tight-growing saplings. The post hunter skirted the dense thicket. He wove in and out where he could in hopes of jumping a cottontail rabbit sitting close to the edge. Daguerreotype image. Old Northwest Territory, in the Year of our Lord, 1792

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“Another Attempt”

“Snapshot Saturday”

A traditional woodsman clucks twice with a wing bone call.

The post hunter’s still-hunt paused near an old shelter site. He settled in next to a wild cherry tree and surveyed the flat-topped knoll. After a brief pause, the wing-bone call touched impatient lips. Two soft clucks wandered through the cedar grove… Old Northwest Territory, a quarter mile east of the River Raisin, in the Year of our Lord, 1792.

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“A Pleasant Turkey Chase”

“Snapshot Saturday”

A returned white captive sits aginst a red oak tree.

In the midst of an October still-hunt for wild turkeys, Red Fox paused with his back against a tall oak tree. That afternoon was warm. The smell of drying leaves fragranced the glade. A wild turkey had just clucked out in the tangled trees of the river bottom. Ten minutes later he dragged two soft clucks through a single wing-bone. All that remained was to wait for a response. Old Northwest Territory, overlooking the River Raisin, in the Year of our Lord, 1794…

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“Red Fox Waits”

“Snapshot Saturday”

A traditional hunter, wrapped in a red trade blanket, sits against a tree.

Shadows grew long as the day came to a close. Msko-waagosh sat wrapped in a red wool trade blanket as he watched a trail leading from the bottom lands. The air was cool, but pleasant for late-November. It was little wonder folks associated the red blanket with this seasoned woodsman. Old Northwest Territory, overlooking the River Raisin, in the Year of our Lord, 1796…

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