Pennsylvania Game News - October 2010 - 8

shoot the first one that came within range, soon there would possibly be more than one within range. And Dad taught me to shoot but not retrieve a squirrel right away if I was sure it was down for good. He said to mark the location and sit quietly and the woods would return to normal activity much sooner than if I would walk over and get the downed squirrel. Early on I hunted squirrels with my shotgun. Heck, I hunted all small game with my shotgun. But even with the shotgun, the squirrels presented a challenge. I had to get them in close enough, and then wait till they stopped and presented a good shot. There were a few days when I got my limit, but most days I considered two or three a great day. Dad worked at the local A&P grocery store, and he knew most of the local farmers on a first name basis, which opened up many places to hunt. One particular farmer had a 5-acre woodlot that was entirely surrounded by cornfields. What’s more, the woodlot was 90 percent mature oak trees. Corn and acorns — talk about squirrel heaven. Many of the oak trees had at least one leafy nest in their tops. Along the longest side of the woodlot was an old wooden split-rail fence running almost the entire length. This fence was literally a squirrel highway. It seemed that every squirrel in the woodlot that traveled from the trees to the cornfield went part of the way along that fence. All we had to do was park ourselves within shotgun range of the fence and wait for the squirrels to come by. Of course, the farmer loved us hunting the corn-devouring bushytails. Many days we had our limit by noon and spent the afternoon hunting rabbits or grouse. And Mom made the absolute best squirrel potpie I’ve ever tasted. I’ve had many enjoyable and excit8

ing experiences in the squirrel woods. One time Dad and I were hunting rabbits and were slowly walking through a mature woodlot to get from one field to another. Dad said we should take our time and maybe we would get a shot at a squirrel or two. As I walked under a huge red oak, something fell straight down in front of me, so close that it almost hit the brim of my cap. Startled, I jumped back as it hit the leaves at my feet with a thud. It was a full grown and equally startled gray squirrel. When it landed in the leaves, it bounced once and hit the ground running. It actually kicked leaves back on my boots as it peeled out for parts unknown, touching the ground only every 10 feet or so. I was so dumbfounded that I just stood there and watched it go. I never even thought to pull the gun up and shoot. That gymnastically challenged gray had apparently fallen off a branch just as I was walking under it. Had I been one step farther, it would have bounced off my head. On another hunt, as I was nearing a mature section of woods, I noticed a particularly huge oak tree with at least four nests in it. I quietly stalked to within 20 yards of it and sat with my back to a tree where I could watch the “squirrel hotel.” In 10 minutes or so, the woods became alive with grays. Most were slightly out of range, but about 15 or so yards in front of me there was an old stump that the squirrels seemed to be working around. I would see a squirrel on top of it, but by the time I got ready to shoot, it would jump down behind it. This happened three or four times till I got smart and just held the gun up. When the next squirrel jumped up, I shot and it disappeared. I sat quietly for a while and, when I didn’t see any more in the area, I walked up to get my squirrel. As I neared the stump, I noticed it was hollowed out and paper thin in spots. I saw the squirrel curled up, down inside the stump, so I reached in and grabbed it by the tail. When I did, it came to life and, quicker than I thought a squirrel could
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Pennsylvania Game News - October 2010

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