We were camping, my youngest son and I, along the St Mary’s river, five miles or so upstream from Folkston, Georgia. Using my 14 foot boat we had gone to a secluded camp spot that has become a family favorite in recent years.
Reachable only by water or logging road, the spot sits perched on a bluff some 12 feet above the languidly flowing river. The clearing is bounded by a 2 acre clearcut to the rear, and mature oaks on either side. It is a lovely place for a relaxing weekend that maybe sometime I’ll photograph and post here for any who’re interested.
On our first morning, I rose early to start breakfast (and especially the coffee part of breakfast!) Josh, who was 11 at the time, asked if he could go over into the oaks and hunt some squirrel. With a sincere “Be careful” I gave my go-ahead. Now before you gasp in shock that I would allow an eleven year-old to wander the woods alone with a shotgun, know that both my boys have been raised with guns and are as familiar and safe with firearms as you are with your car. If you ever saw my father drive, you may say that was an arguable statement! Anyway...I turned the junior Nimrod loose and went about the business of brewing some wake-up juice.
It wasn’t too long before I heard a shot. Then another. And still another. The thought that honestly popped into my mind was something like “that confounded young’un is wasting my shells!” I resolved to “fuss” about it when he returned. More shots rang out from the oak glade as the minutes ticked by. In the space of half an hour I counted no less than 10 reports. “Oh man …am I gonna kill him”.
As I began my second cup of coffee, while tending my simmering bacon, the boy strolled into camp with squirrels in hand and more tails visible hanging from his jacket pocket. With a final count of seven squirrels, and a grin wide enough to span the creek, the boy had experienced his first squirrel melee. That’s something that a squirrel-hunter never forgets …and may strive his whole life to repeat.
A squirrel hunter’s daddy won’t soon forget it either!
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6 comments:
I remember being 14 when I had my first "squirrel slaughter". A bolt action Marlin .22 with a seven shot magazine dropped six bushy-tails with six shots in about ten minutes in a creek bed. The cottonwood trees were averaging 50 feet tall back then, and I was in the creek bed, so most of the shots were at 70 to 80 feet with iron sights.
The closest I ever came to a slaughter after that was clearing a corn crib (round open mesh bin full of ear corn- nobody uses them anymore) with a friend. We took positions 180 degrees apart and simply killed them as they circled the bin. Between the two of us we got 14 in a matter of minutes. Grandma loved squirrel and we kept her freezer stocked for a few years while having a blast.
That's excellent shooting my friend!
Ah, yes- the thrill of pride in seeing the grow! My Josh likes squirrels, but he absolutely loves his partridge. The grin on his face after getting his first wing shot was priceless. Then he frowned, and grinned, and frowned... unsure of how he should react at having taken a life, yet happy in his skill and success.
Shy
I find this quite disturbing.
The boy shot his rifle 10 times and only came back with 7 squirrels?
ONE shot...ONE kill.
Hmmm...Gota, your comment is valid concerning Josh's overall marksmanship. I too subscribe to the One Shot, One Kill worldview. However a couple of points are worth raising here:
a. He was about 10 at the time. His skill set had improved immeasurably since then, and continues to improve. In fact we're attending the Appleseed Shoot in Hinesville early next month where each of us will fire 400 or so rounds over the two days.
b. It's much harder to SAY O.S.O.K. than is to actually DO it.
c. It was a shotgun he was using, not a rifle. Which of course makes his misses all the more egregious!
LOL
PS: Josh says to tell you "Hey"
Hey back to Josh...how old is he now? He must be "legal" now huh? :D
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