A Simple Squirrel Hunt (Page 2)
Squirrel hunting is a passion that does not go away. It just needs to be rekindled—and remembered— from time to time with the promise of something new.
January 14, 2010
After a morning of chasing my old friend the squirrel around the woods-hiding, sneaking, listening, laughing to myself, firing many shots and connecting on many less-I finally felt the fantastic warmth and weight of two gray squirrels as they hung perfectly from my belt. I thanked them and cleaned them in the Mississippi style I was taught, and I fried them and ate them mainly because that's how it all comes full circle. To me, that's how it all makes some sense.
I don't know if I'll go squirrel hunting again this year, because deer season has me wrapped tightly around high-scoring antlers and the ego-pumping glory that they bring to those like me who are concerned with such things.
As insurance however, I gave a squirrel call to my nephew, Hank, just so I'll have to take him out when the breeze begins loosening the leaves in September. He'll be at that enviable age when such simple things can bring a person-and those who happily encourage him-such rare intangibles that can have no price nor measured shelf life. And then perhaps he'll be passionate about something, and we'll have something in common-a good thing, I think-later in life amid the big winter when the world subtly begins changing much faster than it did. In these times I can turn to the things that remain the same-the falling leaves, the squirrels, the guns and a memory of all that I know to be pure and good. And that makes me happy.