We always used at least two minutes’ worth of time fuse. You need sufficient time to ignite the fuse and then walk to a safe place while getting a little bit bored. Once the charges detonated the kids were free to run up to the smoking hole and get showered in copious falling mud and goo. A grand time was had by all.

About halfway through this exercise the kids scampered up to the site of our most recent shot and began screaming in glee. I ran over to join them in time to encounter the world’s most profoundly unfortunate beaver. Apparently the poor inquisitive rodent had meandered over to see what all the fuss was about — just as two of our trunkline charges detonated. The resulting blast launched the creature some 30 meters up into the tree line, leaving him most undeniably demised. We laughed until our faces hurt.

Ours has become an awfully soft culture these days. The very mention of guns and the manly arts is adequate to precipitate the screaming habdabs in many of the less durable members of society. However, I can attest an afternoon spent with two little boys, a case of binary explosives and a handful of superfluous beaver dams can make for some mighty fine memories.

Subscribe To GUNS Magazine