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 Ordinary
deer stand placement gets lively boost with squirrel hunt
by Bobby Hill, bhilloutdoors@cs.com
Posted on Sunday, September 24, 2006
With a final tug on the winch strap, my deer stand stood tall, proud
and ready for deer season 2006. It’s in the same area —
same tree actually — as the past three years and as long as
deer keep falling, it’ll hug that tree through infinity...
and beyond. It was so nice to feel crunchy leaves under my lace-ups
and smell that distinctive forest aroma once again. A sweaty brow,
mosquitoes buzzing my ears and a face full of spider web were familiar
early-season maladies but they were worth the price of admission:
an early wake-up call, a half-hour drive and my 10-year old riding
shotgun. Dakota’s my youngest and it seems he’s going
to take to this hunting much quicker than older brother Colton.
When I mentioned earlier I was taking my deer stand to the woods,
it didn’t take much coaxing to get him to tag along. He was
ready. Squirrel season is on and there’s simply no better
way to show a kid the ropes than to chase fuzzytailed rodents through
the treetops. It was a perfect situation. The job of getting my
deer stand posted could be accomplished and at the same time, my
boy could take another step on his hunting journey.
The call to arms was early but truthfully, we should’ve been
in the woods by the time we stumbled out to the truck. The sun had
yet to rise but it was light enough to shoot. We were late. Not
late in the sense of having to be somewhere but late like missing
the primo hunting time. If you hunt, you know what I mean.
We quickly grabbed a cup of coffee and a bottle of chocolate milk
for the drive and entertained ourselves by feeling each other’s
muscles and belching coffee and chocolate milk. You know, regular
guy stuff ! Once we’d cleared Elkins, we were east bound and
down, headed for the Ozark National Forest.
Thankfully, not much changes from year to year at the old hunting
spot. The rutted, dusty roads are still rutted and dusty, Mill Creek’s
mostly dry and the charred logs I burned in the past were still
in the primitive fire ring. Familiarity may breed contempt in some
things but not here. Not in my little piece of paradise.
As I hoisted my deer stand on my shoulder, I sported a wide grin
as I looked at Dakota. He wasn’t even born when I first came
across this section of hallowed ground but now, he’s big enough
to walk next to me with my old. 410 tucked in his arms. Man, where
does time go ?
It didn’t take long to see tree limbs spring to life as squirrels
reacted to the strangers in their midst. Dak had a bit of trouble
keeping up with the lightning-fast varmints, often losing sight
in the thick foliage. With one hand giving him a gentle nudge and
the other pointing to the elusive squirrel, Dak cut loose with the
trusty single barrel and the wonderful sound of gunfire echoed through
the deep holler.
Dakota was a bit disappointed when the squirrel escaped unscathed
but it’s just part of the learning process. A few moments
later he got another chance but the results were the same. He desperately
wanted a squirrel tail both as a souvenir and a token of his hunting
prowess. It’ll come son, it’ll come.
The strap on my deer stand seemed to be cutting into my shoulder
when we finally reached its home away from home. It was secured
in a matter of minutes and Dak couldn’t resist the urge to
climb the 14-foot ladder stand to literally see what all the fuss
is about. He admitted that a person could sure see a lot better
from on high and I tried to point out where I usually see deer.
Our trip down the mountain was fairly uneventful as warm temperatures
replaced the early-morning chill. I guess squirrels took a dislike
to the heat because they all but disappeared.
Well, I achieved my goal of getting my deer stand in its rightful
place but Dakota will have to wait to tack that squirrel tail on
the fence. The good news is he didn’t get discouraged and
is ready to try, try again. With that attitude, the Ozark National
Forest’s squirrel population had best take notice.
Bobby Hill is the outdoors columnist for the Times and lives in
Fayetteville.
http://nwanews.com/nwat/Sports/45231/
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