While sitting at my desk the other afternoon, I noticed two young boys walking down the street past my home. They both looked to be around nine or 10 years old. The only thing that seemed to distinguish these two youngsters from any other nine or 10-year-old neighborhood boys was that both of them were carrying pellet guns. One of the boys had a gray squirrel on his side wedged between his belt and blue jeans.

Oh how this sight allowed me to reflect on my days as a youngster doing this very same thing. Every fall my buddies and I roamed the neighborhoods and nearby woods searching for the elusive bushytail. We had strict instructions not to shoot any squirrels off of bird feeders or around any neighbor’s homes.

Now you know you couldn’t expect us to do right all of the time. When the pecans began to mature and cuttings were all over the ground, many of the retired gentlemen of our quaint neighborhoods would solicit our services to rid their trees of the nut stealing critters.

These men must have really enjoyed pecan pie, and they were not about to pay for pecans. We were always taught to respect our elders, thus we had no choice but to put off our studies and perform what was required of us. I really think that Mr. Burnham, Mr. Allgood, and Mr. Ramsdell actually enjoyed watching our stealth and marksmanship.

The opening day of squirrel season was huge in terms of anticipation and participation when I was growing up. Deer camps would fill up with hunters on Fridays and at dawn on the opening morning, shots could be heard all over the hills and hollows. We always wished for a rain the night before season opened. This would allow the hunter to be able to hear the falling water hit the ground as a feeding squirrel would loosen the droplets while jumping from limb to limb. Almost without exception, the menu the night of opening day would be, yep you guessed it, squirrel. There would be squirrel stews, fried squirrel, and my favorite, squirrel dumplings. Along with turnip greens, rice and gravy, and biscuits, you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Today, it seems there are far fewer squirrel hunters than of years gone by. Some of these reasons may include land availability, busy schedules, and just a loss of interest. Many hunters may be concentrating more these days on whitetails, thus not squirrel hunting for fear of disturbing their deer stands and “stinking up the woods.”

Whatever the reason, by not squirrel hunting, we are missing a wonderful opportunity to be in the woods. This is how many of us were introduced to the sport of hunting. In addition, these October jaunts allow us to do some scouting for the upcoming deer season. We may find that hidden white oak dropping acorns that will not only render a squirrel or two, but may also be that perfect spot to ambush a buck later.

This is a great season to ease through the woods with a youngster. The practice one gets from slipping up on a feeding squirrel will help our endeavors pursuing other game also. This time will allow us to show youngsters the flora and fauna before the wrath of winter hits. The maturing dogwood berries, the ripening persimmons, and the falling mast will be gone in a month or so, leaving only naked limbs where leaves and fruit used to be. I encourage each of you take time to notice the woods bounty before seasonal changes takes place.

I encourage you to teach a youngster something about the woods this fall. Show them the different tracks in the sand made by the different residents of our woods. Show them the wide variety of acorns from the many species of oaks we have. Teach them the sounds of the woods, like the squealing wood duck, the shrill cry of the pileated woodpecker, and the howl of the coyote. Go squirrel hunting with a kid. I’m sure you will enjoy it.

Until next time enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.