WHEN NATURE CALLS : Squirrel hunting gets lost in today’s rushed society
Posted on Sunday, September 23, 2007
Squirrels. They're simple beasts really, full of fur and tail and, well, not much else. Or, as one might say about squirrels in a frying pan," There's not much to'em."
But the fuzzy-tailed tree rodents are an indelible part of the Ozarks and are a hoot to both watch and hunt. Unfortunately, the hunt seems to have been forgotten.
Deer hunting is king in Arkansas. On this issue, there's no room for argument. Years ago, however, fledgling hunters started small and eventually gained enough experience and confidence to go Arkansas' No. 1 big-game animal: the whitetail deer.
Today's world is different. Our young wannabe hunters start out chasing deer without the helpful lessons and relatively easy nature of small game. In my opinion, without a small-game background, we risk losing kids to frustration and apathy. This may explain waning license sales.
Squirrel hunting no longer carries the charm it enjoyed even a generation ago. With busy schedules and surging interests in muzzleloader and archery seasons, hunters don't have much time to devote to the simple quest of a good squirrel hunt. Therefore, kids don't go either and oftentimes devote hours and hours to game systems or other techno gadgets. It wasn't always this way.
About the time John Lennon died and everybody wanted their MTV, this young teen was a squirrelhunting fool. I had my. 22 rifle and. 410 shotgun and I waited all year for the first of September to roll around. The rugged hills and timbered hollers of rural Van Buren County were a big playground for boys and squirrels alike. We had a ball !
Us Clinton boys prowled creek banks, tip-toed near field edges, eased through pine stands, and gazed in awe at majestic oaks towering out of deep hollers. I guess all of us knew we'd eventually graduate to deer hunting but, for now, our lives revolved around filling a game sack with a limit of squirrels.
While nothing in the hunting world compares to the modern gun opener, the start of squirrel season was an event for me and the guys. The eve of the big day found us piddling with our equipment, mapping out a strategy, telling of past hunts, and talking smack. When bedtime reared its ugly head, sleep was hard to find as visions of blazing guns and running squirrels clouded our restless thoughts.
We were there before the woods awoke, sitting on a stump, a big rock or leaned against a tree. Usually the action came quick as treetops came to life with feeding squirrels dropping acorns all over the forest floor. The sharp pops of a. 22 and deep shotgun blasts resonated through the valleys and across mountain tops as a group of friends had the time of their lives.
On most hunts, one of us would jump a deer and all would stop and admire and long for the day. But it was like looking at that pretty girl in class. Right now, it was out of our league.
Most squirrels gave me the slip but I always managed one or two, maybe three, four or even five on a good day. Our little hunting party would meet up, compare stories and make fun of the one soul that didn't bring anything back. Yep, I was that guy on more than one occasion if memory serves. Anyway, cornmealbattered squirrel isn't exactly sirloin but since we killed them, nothing tasted better.
We didn't intend to learn anything from the fun but before long, we'd received a solid education. Tracks from deer, bobcats, turkeys, coyotes, and raccoons were noted, memorized and stored away. We discovered the difference between a deer rub and a scrape. The best trees for squirrels were easily spotted as were the prime whitetail hangouts. What we did then, prepared us for later. Call it a wellearned diploma courtesy of the Arkansas outdoors.
For the most part, our small gang stayed together but as the years went by, things changed. It was that special time in a boy's life when trucks and girls took the place of spare time and squirrels. It was a time when we thought we'd outgrown chasing the feisty little rodents and our desire to scan treetops quickly faded.
We were big boys now, ready for the big time. Deer hunting became our new obsession. And to this day, it still is.
But those squirrels, man, what fun.
Bobby Hill is the outdoors columnist for the Times and lives in Fayetteville.
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