Learning to hunt squirrels

My message box last week contained a note advertising a Beginners Squirrel Hunt Seminar to be held in Minden September 21 at the office of Wildlife and Fisheries at 9961, Highway 80 in Minden. Those interested should call 337-735-8685 to pre-register as space will be limited.
The seminar outlined the subjects to be covered during the session. It includes such things as equipment needed, firearm selection, rules and regulations, proper squirrel hunting techniques and cleaning squirrels.
There were no seminars available to learn how to hunt squirrels when I was growing up in rural Natchitoches Parish. Our learning was at the feet of our dads, older brothers or maybe uncles who took youngsters like myself under their wings to teach them the ropes.
It was my dad who was my tutor in the squirrel woods and he started me and my brother out when we were just little mop-haired kids. When Tom and I learned that daddy was going squirrel hunting and invited us to go with him, it was like Christmas in October. I remember the excitement of actually getting to go to the woods with dad and watch him as he did battle with wild squirrels. When we started going with him, he carried the only gun; we weren’t allowed to even take our BB guns.
The weather in early October was usually cool and our jackets felt cozy and good as we followed him step by step as he gingerly eased through the woods.

“Watch out for that stick….you step on it and it cracks and it’ll scare every squirrel in the woods,” he’d whisper.
We would finally make our way to a fallen log that lay beneath a grove of oaks or hickories where squirrels were likely to be hanging out. I remember how much fun it was just to be sitting there on a log, my brother and me, next to our dad. If Tom or I said anything, we’d get a “shush” from him. “Just stay quiet and keep your eyes on the trees and look for movement.”
A branch would jiggle and Tom and I would get excited. Dad would whisper for us to watch the jiggling branch and how it moved and he’d ask if we saw what was shaking the branch. Thinking I was looking at a squirrel, a blue jay fluttered away.
“A bird moves a branch differently than a squirrel does. If it’s a squirrel, it will likely be on the end of the branch getting an acorn or hickory nut and if you looked closely, you could see it move to a larger branch and begin eating. A bird just bounces around there and then flies away,” he whispered.
Momentarily, we would hear a sound for which our young ears were not trained. It sounded like something scratching. Dad would point to the source of the sound as a squirrel scurried up the trunk.
“Y’all sit still and watch,” he’d say as he eased up from the log, his shotgun at port arms and he’d ease along, using other trees and saplings as a shield until he stopped, raised the gun and fired. A fat fox squirrel would tumble to the ground to the delight of two little guys.

As we grew older, we were allowed to take our .22 rifles and under dad’s watchful eye, we tried to mimic what we had learned until finally with practice, both Tom and I learned to successfully hunt squirrels and we owe it all to a dad who took the time to teach us.