Sixteen hunts over three weeks to take her. She was so wiley. Grey squirrel, eyes are dark red with white around edges. She stayed in heavy briars and would run out of trees without lingering. Taken freehand at 35 yards with scope at 7x, .22lr, through a hole in Trifoliate Orange briars. Public land.
Scared to death a hawk would get her.
I’ve never hunted harder.
Edit: Dang. Albino squirrels have short lives, hawks take them out and they don’t live past the first year. This squirrel lived in an island of trees in a field and is likely albino due to inbreeding. The genes are in no way advantageous and are only rare due to the extreme predation they cause.
I regularly eat fish and game that I kill myself. This is the only trophy I’ve ever taken. Unless you’re a vegetarian, I doubt you have the same respect for animals that I do. I’ve worked in factory farms and understand, at a shit on boots and pants level, the horror involved with most meat that is eaten. Do you?
The attitude is a real shame. It’s due to honest ignorance, which is excusable. Being a leftist redneck is lonely.
My girl and I are saving up to purchase a play farm this summer. We plan to raise steers, possibly a hog, yard birds and a deer plot to source all our meat.
What do you enjoy hunting?
Deer, waterfowl, squirrels, turkeys - that’s whats here in the Midwest. Hell, if those “super hawgs” come far enough, I’ll hunt those as well. At my age of 50+, I’m just now really getting into the “learning” of hunting that I should have done earlier in age.
Good luck to you both on your farm.
You’re not the only lefty redneck around. ;)
40’s here, I’m only recently mature enough to become a good hunter.
Probably the most important thing I’ve learned for successful hunting is how to be quiet. Move quietly, be still, move slowly, turn your head slow. It’s a different pace, and the stillness and patience is good for the blood pressure. The isometric exercise of walking each deliberate step is a hell of a workout also.
I’ve decided I’m pretty quiet after watching younger deer hunters crash through the woods. Rarely see older hunters so I figure they’re watching me.
Occasionally have deer walk up on me and watch them try to figure out what I am.
Slowing down forces me to watch and listen. I pick up a lot more sign these days. I don’t think it’s skill, I think it’s patience and inner stillness.
Some experience seems to help with that slowness and deliberate silence. My eyes pick up more sign now, recognizing things that I had passed over a couple of years ago. Clues and bits start to click together, but it all happens when I get out there.
I love all the encounters, whether I can take a shot or not, or whether it’s a deer or the chipmunk that came within a third of a meter or so, to figure out what the heck this thing in all the scrub was…