My grandfather has been dead now for almost fifty years but the memories of squirrel hunting with him are still alive. He was a large man who wore Round House bib overalls and a faded Stetson hat. In the upper pockets of those overalls was a can of Prince Albert tobacco and a large Elgin pocket watch. In his waist pockets there was always a Case stockman pocket knife and more times than not there were a couple of .410 or .22 shells or both. He farmed all his life on small blackland farms and hunted one game regularly, squirrel. The only gun that I remember him having or hunting with was a Stevens .410/22 with a Tenite stock.

I learned of squirrel hunting from him. He never seemed to be rushed or in a hurry when hunting. In the cool fall days we would stop and sit under a pecan tree and simply watch and listen. After awhile he might pick-up one of the native pecans from the ground. Take out his Case pocket knife and slowly and deliberately cut the ends from the nut then peel the shell from the sides revealing two perfect pecan halves. (I still have trouble doing that with native pecans!) In due course he would shoot a few squirrels with the little gun and we would head home.

He was a man who spoke little but when he did it was worth listening to. Once while driving home we saw three or four men on a field road with a dog and they had been squirrel hunting. He stopped to visit with them and I listened as the owner of the dog extolled his dogs abilities for several minutes. My grandfather said nothing. When he got back into the truck I was excited to hear more about the squirrel dog. I started to bombard him with questions. He still said nothing but rolled a P.A. and lighted it. Then he only said "that feller thinks a little to highly of his dog". I wish I could have spent more time with him than I did. But when you are young many treasures that you have are not realized until you are old and they are gone.

What are your memories of squirrel hunting???

I was a grade school Kid, not sure how old, on my first squirrel hunt. Somebody told me my Uncles old hog lot was a good place to look. As daylight broke, I could hear leaves rustling & see branches moving as droplets from the morning dew fell to earth. When one stayed in view long enough for me to shoot, I fired with my Stevens SXS .410 & a bushytail bit the dust. That was repeated several times that morning. The little Stevens wasn't a great duck gun nor a dove gun but it would kill anything within it's effective range as dead as anything if you could hit it. I killed my first pheasant with that same gun many miles & years later. Pop's first love was Bobwhite quail but I hunted squirrels!
As the years passed & I sought more impressive game to hunt, such as deer, pheasant, waterfowl & upland game birds, I never lost my respect for squirrels & look forward to pursuing them every year. They are not first on the trophy list but will always be near the top on my list of fond memories!

Still high on my list!


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