By Matthew Kecker
As I sat in my recliner one evening, checking my eyelids for holes dreaming about the Karma SLS semi-auto airgun I've been seeing on social media, the weatherman droned on about an arctic blast sweeping across the U.S. My ears perked up when he mentioned temperatures dropping well below zero for several days in the Midwest. Cracking one eye open just enough to catch the seven-day forecast, I saw highs struggling to hit -6°F.
"Oh great," I muttered. "Time to plug in the truck and pray the block heater keeps the fluids from turning to sludge."
Growing up in the Northwoods, I’m no rookie when it comes to winter’s wrath—frozen pipes, gelled diesel, plastic so brittle it shatters on impact. But that was a problem for future me. Present me had a fire to enjoy and eyelids to inspect for structural weaknesses.
A Call from PJ
The next day, my phone rang. PJ Clarke’s name flashed across the screen.
"Hello," I answered.
"Mr. Kecker, sir! How are you?" came PJ’s signature booming voice.
A call from PJ always means adventure, usually accompanied by tales of dragon-slaying in Florida—a term used for thinning out invasive iguanas. After some banter, he hit me with a proposition:
“I see it’s going to be cold up by you. I’ve had to wear a sweatshirt for three days down here.”
I laughed. Three days? I’d been living in a sweatshirt for months, layered with a jacket, hat, and gloves. I don’t think that I have seen the sun in three weeks. At this point, if the sun came out, I might burst into flames.
Then came the kicker:
“Would you like to test the new Karma SLS?”
Would I?! I’d been eyeing one of these since they hit the market. A side-lever air rifle that switches to semi-auto at the push of a button? That’s the kind of innovation that makes a pest control guy’s trigger finger itch. Some of my usual pesting spots are thick with pigeons, and fast follow-up shots would be a game-changer.
“Perfect,” PJ said. “I’m curious how well the semi-auto system functions in extreme cold.”
When we hung up, my mind was already racing. How do I put this thing to the test? Then it hit me—just use it like I normally would.
No Safe Queens Here
I don’t baby my gear. If I’m taking a piece of equipment into the woods, it better perform, or it’s getting sold. No safe queens in my house.
So, with an arctic blast inbound and the Karma SLS en route, I knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be a cushy backyard test. This was going to be a trial by ice, the ultimate cold-weather torture test for a semi-auto air rifle.
Would the Karma SLS cycle smoothly at subzero temps? Would it handle the brutal Midwest winter without turning into an expensive paperweight?
The Arrival of the Karma SLS
The gun arrived on a Wednesday night. I burst through the door, eyes locked on the long-awaited package sitting at one end of the table. At the other end? My wife, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
"Now, what is that?" she asked, suspicion in her tone.
Look, I’ll admit—I’m not always the best at communicating my enthusiasm-driven purchases. Over the years, more than a few surprise airgun and bow deliveries have mysteriously appeared, courtesy of the UPS or FedEx folks. But this time, I was in the clear.
"It’s from PJ," I said casually. "He wants me to run some cold-weather tests."
That seemed to satisfy her—for now. Unfortunately, with work and the kids' swim lessons, I had no choice but to leave the box unopened on the table. Torture.
The next day, I went about my business, but my mind kept drifting back to that box waiting at home. As soon as the whistle blew, I was out the door, racing back like a kid on Christmas morning.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, it was 5:30 p.m., dark, and snowing. An inch of fresh powder coated the ground, and more was falling in big, lazy flakes. None of that mattered. I had a gun to set up.
I sliced the box open and pulled out the hard case. Inside, nestled in custom-cut foam, was a Karma SLS Standard in .22—sleek, solid, and built for business. Alongside it were a couple of magazines, a few tins of pellets, and a DonnyFL Tatsu moderator.
Wasting no time, I mounted a Vortex 4-24x scope, locked the rifle into my tripod, and got to work. The snow was coming down harder now. The tracks I’d made coming into the house just 30 minutes earlier were already covered. But that wasn’t going to stop me.
I set up a Diet Mountain Dew box at 30 yards (because every great marksman knows the importance of proper target selection), aimed my Milwaukee floodlight at it, and dialed in the Karma SLS. Seven shots later, I was zeroed. The AEA 25.3-grain pellets were flying true, so I settled in to shoot some groups.
One of the standout features of the Karma SLS is the simple push-pull selector on the side of the rifle. Push it in, and you’ve got side-lever action. Pull it out, and you’re in semi-auto mode. Naturally, I pulled it out. It was time to send some lead downrange.
Karma SLS First Impressions: Weight, Balance, Trigger and Accuracy
The first thing I noticed was the weight of the gun. As I mentioned earlier, this rifle is solid—built for real-world field work. It’s not heavy in a way that makes it cumbersome, but if I were taking longer shots, I’d definitely be looking for a rest. However, at shorter ranges (5-50 yards), the weight and balance of the Karma SLS would allow me to hold steady and take a squirrel with ease.
Then there’s the trigger. It’s not a benchrest setup, and if you're expecting a crisp two-stage break, you’ll be looking for a loooong time. Instead, it reminds me of an AR-style trigger but lighter, direct, and smooth. No loud mechanical reset, no stages—just touch, slack, press, press, press until it breaks. And in semi-auto mode? Let’s just say this thing is more fun than a guy should legally be allowed to have. The action moves freely, feeding the next pellet flawlessly, allowing for fast and accurate follow-up shots.
To confirm my zero, I fired four five-shot groups. Each group? Easily covered by my thumbnail. That’s the kind of precision I like to see. With the snow piling up and a big smile on my face, I called it a night and surrendered to the warmth of the indoors, already plotting my next move.
Baptism by Pigeon: The Karma SLS Hits the Field
For me, gear testing isn’t about babying equipment—it’s about putting it through real-world abuse. If a rifle can’t handle my routine, it’s not making the cut.
I woke up to what would be the last of the “warm” weather before the deep freeze. Temps hovered in the mid-20s, expected to climb into the low 30s before diving south of zero. Perfect. I grabbed my air tank, a tin of pellets, and tossed the Karma SLS onto the back seat of my truck—
No case.
No cover.
Just pure, unfiltered field treatment.
At 7:03 a.m., I backed out of the driveway with one mission: Break this gun in right!
PJ had told me that this particular Karma SLS had yet to claim its first pest or small game. Before any formal testing, I needed to christen it properly.
I rolled into work at 7:30 a.m., parked the truck, and headed inside. By 12:30 p.m., I made my escape—throwing off the shackles of work and heading straight for a prime permission just outside of town. Temperature? 30 degrees. The gun had been out in the cold for over five and a half hours—the perfect first test.
I pulled into the farm and immediately spotted about 50 pigeons huddled atop the silo, greedily soaking up the last bit of warmth before the deep freeze set in. Jackpot.
Stepping out of the truck, I grabbed the Karma SLS, braced against the cab, and picked my first target. Crosshairs settled. Finger pressed. Shot broke.
With almost no reaction, the pigeon slid off the silo and dropped to the ground. His buddies, momentarily stunned, stared in disbelief.
No need to reposition. I looked to the next bird, moved the crosshairs, and fired again. The pellet hit with a loud, satisfying thump, sending the pigeon recoiling. Within seconds, I had not only broken in the rifle but put the semi-auto system to the test. And let me tell you—this feature is a game-changer.
I returned home, grinning ear to ear. What would tonight bring? I knew this was where the real test would begin. As I wound down the back county roads toward home, I knew this would be the last time the Karma SLS would be above zero for 100 hours. The forecasted temperatures overnight would be in the teens, with windchills pushing the mercury to zero degrees.
Day Two – Zero Degrees
I woke up to zero degrees on the thermometer. Perfect. The Karma SLS had now been sitting in the cold for 12 straight hours—over 24 hours total in the elements. This was the real test: Could the semi-auto system handle extreme cold?
I wasn’t exactly rushing to find out. There was no urgency—this was as warm as it was going to get for the next five days. Zero degrees was the high for the foreseeable future, and that thought rolled over and over in my head as I stared into the fireplace, sipping a hot cup of coffee.
For a brief moment, I seriously considered packing up and moving to Florida—joining PJ and the sweater brigade—but then I remembered that I’m a pudgy fellow who doesn’t do well with heat, snakes, and alligators. The longer I sat there, the more okay I became with life at zero.
Half a pot of coffee later, I slapped my knees and said, “Well, I suppose.” Time to face the elements. Curiosity was getting the best of me. Would the action hold up? Would it still shoot straight? Was I about to call PJ and tell him I broke his gun?
I retrieved the Karma SLS from the backseat of my truck—still right where I left it, in all its frozen glory. First check: air pressure. Still holding at 3,000 PSI, exactly where I left it. (The gun is capable of 4,000 PSI, but I misread the bar gauge when filling it. Oh well—all testing had been done at 3,000 PSI so far)
I set up on the range—fresh target, full mag, and ready to roll. The first shot mattered the most. As a small game hunter and pester, my first shot is often my only shot.
I took my time, squeezed through the trigger—and puff! The pellet streaked downrange and hit right where I was aiming. Oh, it is hammer time!
I let the next shots go, pacing them at about half a second apart. The semi-auto system ran flawlessly. No misfeeds, no jams, no clipping. The pellets landed right behind the crosshairs, shot after shot.
I stood there, grinning like an idiot.
This gun had traveled from sunny 70-degree Florida just two days ago. No tuning, no adjustments—just straight into zero-degree Wisconsin winter. And it was still running like a champ.
The Karma SLS doesn’t just survive the cold—it thrives in it. And with five more days of this deep freeze ahead, I had plenty of time to keep pushing its limits.
