The great squirrel hunter
My brother and I decided to try out a different wood lot for bow deer hunting on a Friday night. Saturday morning found us packing our climbing deer stands to that woods and finding what we felt was our sweet spot. There were a couple of saddles between the cedar swamp and a low muddy area that were wore down with deer trails going to the corn field a couple thousand yards behind us. We decided to only hunt till noon then go get something to eat and do some grouse hunting that morning then return about 3:30 in the afternoon.
Afternoon came and we got in our stands just about 3:30 as planned. I had sat in mine about a hour when a squirrel decided it was going to come up my tree and sit on my stand with me. I kicked it off and the dumb thing came right back up to once again get kicked off. This time it stayed on the ground just raising holy hell. Making all kinds of whining complaints to the whole world and everything in the woods for about 100 miles, I finally had enough and got the bow from the hanger drew a bead on that tree rat and let the arrow go. The arrow hit just a bit off center in the middle of the body and stuck in the ground about a foot it looked like. That squirrel lay there so still I figured I could now sit in peace and not have all that noise to scare the deer away. Next thing I know that squirrel has come alive and is running around that arrow trying to get loose and raising all sorts of hell. Finally I give up and climb down grab a good healthy club laying nearby grab that arrow with the squirrel and give it a good heavy whack upside the head. Stuck the squirrel and arrow in a tree without trying to remove it and climb back up the tree. I don’t think it was even a half hour and that squirrel is alive again and rising cane again trying to get out of that tree crotch and off the arrow. By now it is nearly dark and it is crazy to expect any self-respecting deer to use that trail with all the racket being raised so I once again climb down and had decided to stay down and wait for my brother. I clobber that squirrel several times with that club hoping I had taken the last of its 9 lives.
Finally I see the tiny flash of Robs pen lite bobbing thru the woods. He gets where I am and asked if I was cutting timber for a logging company withal the racket I had made. I tell him about the squirrel and all the trouble I had with it.
He in turn told the story to all our friends and it took me many a year to shed the title the great squirrel bow hunter.
Al