rfd, I'm pleased that you're pleased!
Does that make sense?
In fact, I am pleased that all those who dearly love the little three-two are pleased, and I suspects that's mostly because it makes me look a bit less silly when I personally praise the many values of this little rifle.
Short story on the little .32;
Years ago, in what would be the early days of muzzleloading for many folks, and that would have have been sometime around, or a bit earlier than 1976, I showed up at a match in Paso Del Norte packin a mighty little three-two flinter.
If I recall just right the laughter started long before the first shot was fired, but that laughter seemed to break into a rolling thunder after I fired the first shot....just the sound of that little pip-squeak sent laughter roaring through the Pass to the North.....unnerving at best! They had suddenly won the psychology of the match before it had gotten underway good.
It was a twenty shot match, five banks of targets, which was standard back in that day, ten off-hand, ten from a rest......
By noon of that same day there was no more laughing, no more cheap shots at my little "pea shooter", nothing but Oohs, and Ahaa's as I very calmly took their money, every last penny of it, as I had easily taken both off-hand, and the rest events...no arguing, no discussion, no measurements required!
Since that day I have been convinced that, for all practical purposes, the mighty little three-two is a winner in many many respects, none of the least being its power when needed, or its lack thereof.
Back in those days it was popular, albeit more than just a mite dangerous, to "load 'em till they crack"!
That "load 'em till they crack" happened somewhere around 43-45gr FFFg in that particular gun, and the tighter the better with the patch......couldn't afford a Chronograph back in those days so I have no clue what the little 47gr pill was doing velocity wise, but the sound was eerie similar to that of a cartridge rifle.
Shortly after this, and a few years before retirement, I was stationed at Ft. McClellan, Alabama...smack dab in the very heart of "Skwerl" country, and then, that same rifle, became the love of my life using 15gr FFFG, as I became a walkin, talkin, singin, hootin, hollerin threat to every Bushytail in the county....and Alabama has some big beautiful Grey Squirrels!
The bag limit back then was very generous, and "southern Skwerl recipes" were aplenty.....it was during this time that I became convinced there was simply nothing better that the gentlemanly art of Squirrel Hunting, which was indeed the Prince of the hunting sports, and that little three-two was that same Gentleman Hunter's choice of firearms.
And, nothing has ever come along to change that thinkin.
Uncle Russ...
