OVER MY SHOULDER

Even with the many things that had to be done, and the ‘struggle’ to make a living when I was young, Dad seem to always find or make time to do things with my brothers and I. One of the things that I remember was the times that he would take us squirrel hunting. It gave us time with him, as well as time in the timber---I enjoyed both, and still enjoy the time in the timber-----that is until the ‘ticks’ became so numerous.

I was in about the 6th or 7th grade, when we (my brothers and I) received a rifle for Christmas. It was a Steven bolt action single shot. I would not be able to count or even guess the number of ‘22 shorts’ that we put through that rifle. I recall that we have made a new firing pin for it at least twice and maybe three times. In the beginning, we were allowed to carry the rifle---take turns shooting, as long as Dad was with us. It was not long however until we had proven ourselves, and Dad allowed us to hunt alone if he was not available.

Even before we were old enough to carry a gun, we would go to the timber with Dad. I was always in awe of his ability to find and see a squirrel in the trees---particularly when there were leaves on the trees. Of course I always thought that it helped when we had Corky to ‘tree’ the squirrels----however, even then I seemed to have trouble seeing them. Dad would see a tail being blown in the slight breeze, or see a foot or tail drooped over a limb, and sometimes even hear them as they edged around or up the tree. He always contended that he could smell a den tree and sometimes even a squirrel. He seemed to know that you looked in the wild grape vine, in the crotch of a tree, or out in the very small limbs where the leaves provided cover to hide them.

It helped to have the patience that Dad had----he would pick a spot in the timber (usually pretty early in the morning while it was cool) near an oak or nut tree, find a shady cool spot and sit down and remain still for what seemed to me hours----probably only a few minutes---then the first thing that you knew, the squirrels would start to move around in the tree, and go back to the activity in which they were involved before we disturbed them. It would not take long before they would even be chattering, and would soon make a good target for Dad.

I was never able to exhibit that kind of patience, thus rarely could ‘wait them out’----neither was Corky, so if Dad used that tactic, Corky had to stay home, or we boys would take him to other parts of the timber. Consequently, I never was able to harvest the squirrels that Dad did. Besides that, Dad was an excellent shot with a rifle or a shot gun---he liked to kid about when he was a kid that he hunted squirrels by throwing rocks----and got so good with his right hand that Grandma made him throw left handed so as to not tear the squirrel up so much---I am not sure that I ever believed that but I did enjoy the story.

I can recall many times that we would approach a tree, quite certain that there was a squirrel in it, and I would study every limb determined to ‘beat’ Dad on this one. Pretty soon he would say ---”ease around the tree, and see if he is on the other side”------slowly I would ease around the tree, and about the time I was half way around, his rifle would crack and a squirrel would come tumbling down. When I would ask---”how did you see him----I looked that limb over real good”,---Dad would just smile, and say “you have to be smarter than that old squirrel”----It was a long time before I found out that as I moved around the tree, the squirrel would move ever so slightly around the tree, or over the limb to be out of my vision, thus exposing himself to Dad. (I used the same tactic with my sons, but they caught on a lot quicker----I always thought that Dad told them what I was doing)

Dad always taught us to ‘take’ only the amount of game that we needed or wanted for the table---or for one of the neighbors who enjoyed a squirrel now and then. The young or about half grown squirrels were the best eating. Usually, we hunted the red ‘fox’ squirrel, but there were spots in the timber where we would on occasions find some of the little gray squirrels---they were more of a challenge---as they seemed wiser.

We always dressed our own game----I recall Dad teaching us how to skin a squirrel----you would start by cutting the skin on the lower part of the tail, cutting through the tail, then holding the back legs, and pulling downward on the tail. The skin would peal off the body down to the front legs---you would then pull the front legs out of the skin and remove the front feet and the head with the front part of the skin. This left the ‘britches’ on the squirrel (the skin on the back legs) which would then be skinned out and the back feet removed. From there on, it was only a matter of cleaning down the carcass and preparing the squirrel for the frying pan, or a pot around which you would place dumplings.

I don’t hunt squirrel any more---first, we do not eat them now, and second there are not as many squirrels in the timber as there was when I was a young man. When I was a kid, there were squirrels in every hedge row, and one would see squirrel nests and ‘den trees’ in any timber or wooded area. I did teach my boys to squirrel hunt, but none of us are as ‘good’ at it as Dad was---not the patience, nor as good of a shot.

This activity provided much “quality” time for me, my brothers and Dad and in later years for me, my sons and yes their Grand dad.----Time that is more valuable now than it was then---time that is more valuable now than any accumulation of material goods that I may have or gain. LDC