Squirrel Hunting Opener 2009

By Joel Walters

My very first hunting trip as a kid was to a woodlot in search of squirrels, and I still get excited when the middle of August rolls around. Later will come dove, turkey, deer, and rabbits, but first always comes the hunt for bushy tails. I woke up admittedly a bit late this past weekend and quickly got dressed and headed out the door to a new place for me. On my way down to Adair WMA in Boone County, Kentucky I saw several deer, including a nice 8 pointer in velvet. Pulling in the drive past the Big Bone Baptist Church (no, I am not making this up) I was greeted by the sight up four other vehicles already parked in the small lot. Public land is always a gamble, so I decided to make the best of it and head to the furthest reaches of the property. I broke down the barrel of my Walther .22 caliber air rifle and inserted a Crow Magnum pellet into the barrel. After levering the barrel back, I jumped over a low wire that keeps vehicles from traveling down an old gravel road heading into the property. I eased down a steep hill, searching the beech trees that line the road for any movement. Soon I was at the bottom of the hill and noticed an old barn quietly moldering in the overgrowth. I continued down the gravel road, looking for a likely patch of hickories. The road travels down a small creek valley with thick brush coming in from both sides. After about ½ a mile, I looked to my left and saw a deer trail heading up another creek that fed the larger creek that ran along the gravel road. I jumped the creek, and started up the draw. Soon I was ducking and diving my way through massive tangles of multi-flora rose. As I detached my sleeve from a particular adamant briar vine, I saw a squirrel jump from a beech to a hickory about 40 yards away up the hill and to my left. Watching my steps carefully, I worked my way further up the draw on a path to intersect him. When I got about 20 more yards, I finally noticed a large electric fence. I was at the back of the property and would need to be very careful of where I shot a squirrel. On the public side of the property, honeysuckle, autumn olive, multi-flora rose, and any number of other entanglements seemed to snarl my plans. On the private property across the way was nothing by mowed pasture between majestic patches of hardwoods. I didn’t see that particular squirrel again, but I edge my way along the electric fence using a deer trail. This property is overrun with deer due in large part to the archery only regulations. I had never seen deer trails that looked so much like a cow path before. Pausing for a moment in a good vantage point, I scanned a small patch of hickories in front of me. Soon I saw the movement of a gray squirrel jumping from one tree to another. As he squirmed his way up a branch, I eased off the safety and placed the crosshairs on his head. Pifffff, and the squirrel was headed back down the limb the way he came. My first shot had been bad, and I couldn’t get cocked and loaded again before he was long gone. I continued on the deer trail, making occasional detours around the worst briar patches. It was kind of like making your way through a deciduous jungle where a machette would not have been out of place. On my hands and knees I crawled my way through patches of honeysuckle and autumn olive. As I reached a more open meadow, I was soon soaked to the skin with the heavy dew and sweat from the exertion. Detangling myself from another in a long series of briar patches, I was beginning to think it wouldn’t be too bad to just lay down and live here rather than take another step. Maybe a pack of boy scouts would wander by, find me, and take pity on me. Finally hope came in the form of a barking squirrel a few dozen yards in front of me. With renewed focus I eased into a more open section of hickories. As I scanned the tree tops, movement to my right caught me eye as a small gray squirrel eased down a tree in stops and spurts. Before I could draw a bead, he had jumped across the electric fence and onto the safety of the private property. I slowly made my way down hill. The sun was getting higher and was baking my brain along with the dew from the meadow and turning the day into a real humid scorcher. After about half an hour of stalking through the small patch of woods, I convinced myself that the squirrel I had seen was the same one I had heard barking earlier and started to walk more quickly. About three steps in, I heard a squirrel jump through the trees ten yards away. I quickly flipped off the safety and searched for the squirrel in my scope. He made it about 25 yards quickly through the treetops before stopping to check his back trail. I put the crosshairs on his chest and squeezed. A branch slowly descended from the canopy, but no squirrel. I ran up the hill and searched the area, but didn’t see any sign. Thoroughly disgusted and disgusting to boot (I was a sweaty mess), I hacked my way through the meadow back to the gravel road and from there to my truck. The parking lot was more full than when I had left, but I wished my fellow hunters luck as I kicked on the air conditioner full blast and headed home.