Joshua M. Smith
Member
So I’m sitting out in a nice, comfy, lawn chair reading a Cheaper Than Dirt catalogue that came in the mail today.
Sitting across my legs is my squirrel “sniper” rifle.
I’m engrossed in the too-good-to-be-true deals, all the while listening for birds being upset by squirrel, listening for them to jump, and wondering how in the world some of these items can be “tactical,” and marveling on how overused that word is, and how I’m not really sure what it really means to have a “tactical” accessory. I mean, are my 1911’s sights tactical? They’re original G.I. spec. How about my SKS’s wooden stock? Again, military spec. My Mossberg pump? Surely that’s tactical. It has a wire stock and all sorts of plastic on it, not to mention a heat shield and extended magazine. I guess it doesn’t matter that it’s heavier and much less comfortable to shoot than a standard Mossberg pump with slug sights. I only keep it because it was a gift.
Anyway, I see a squirrel dash from the apple tree to the garden to a woodpile. I drop the magazine on the ground, chamber a round in my rifle, hit the deck (literally, it’s a deck – well, a cement patio. I have yet to put the deck back up after tearing it down last year), and flip open the lens covers.
I observe through the ‘scope that if I miss (and the probability is higher than usual as the distance is about 50 yards), the bullet will sail through a storage shed, the side of which are thin, and continue on to parts unknown. The bastage! So I wait.
And wait.
Then it moves. And when it moves, it moves fast. Looks like it disappeared into a brush pile I intended for rabbits. I didn’t know they were ground burrowing yet. Huh.
I move around to try to get a shorter shot, approaching to 30 yards, then 20, then finally coming up on where it should be. It’s gone, totally disappeared.
So, I go back to reading my magazine.
And I start hearing the birds throw fits again, on the right side this time, in dense foliage high in the canopy. I see a bunch of that canopy moving. I mean, it looks like a major storm’s coming through, though the wind’s hardly blowing. I hear the squirrel jump, but again, I don’t see it. I just see the canopy move.
The squirrels, they mock me. They don’t play fair. They disappeared precisely on August 15th, the start of Indiana’s squirrel hunting season, and they’ve stayed gone. I’m pretty sure these rodents have been to Thunder Ranch because they utilize concealment better than anything I’ve seen – and my cousin’s a retired Navy SEAL. They’ve even stopped raiding my bird feeder.
I’ve been tempted to get out the shotgun and just unload #6 shot at whatever moves in the canopy, but that wouldn’t be fair to the other wildlife.
I try to pattern their movements. I go out in the morning, set up in the dark, and I choose a fire lane so I don’t have to do calisthenics trying to take a shot behind me. The fire lane always has lots of hickory an walnut trees, and is usually lined up with an area where I’ve observed them denning. Then I slip off my canteen and pack, eat something, usually cold. Very rarely do I heat water for coffee in my canteen cup – only when the wind is strong enough that I can get away with building a small fire.
I load my magazine into the rifle and chamber a round at exactly ½ hour before sunrise for that day – this is what is legal in Indiana. Then I hold perfectly still and wait.
Of course, they don’t show. Or if they do, it’s high in the canopy directly behind me, where I can’t take a shot without said calisthenics, or can’t take a shot, period, due to lack of knowledge of what’s beyond. Usually on days like this, they'll just switch up and come out near nightfall.
I’ll of course drop them like flies once the leaves are off the trees, and I’ll do it from a great distance (well, great for a a .22 long rifle, anyway).
But it will be cold then, and I really like hunting in September due to the pleasantly cool, but not cold, weather.
The squirrels need to respect that.
Josh <><
Sitting across my legs is my squirrel “sniper” rifle.
I’m engrossed in the too-good-to-be-true deals, all the while listening for birds being upset by squirrel, listening for them to jump, and wondering how in the world some of these items can be “tactical,” and marveling on how overused that word is, and how I’m not really sure what it really means to have a “tactical” accessory. I mean, are my 1911’s sights tactical? They’re original G.I. spec. How about my SKS’s wooden stock? Again, military spec. My Mossberg pump? Surely that’s tactical. It has a wire stock and all sorts of plastic on it, not to mention a heat shield and extended magazine. I guess it doesn’t matter that it’s heavier and much less comfortable to shoot than a standard Mossberg pump with slug sights. I only keep it because it was a gift.
Anyway, I see a squirrel dash from the apple tree to the garden to a woodpile. I drop the magazine on the ground, chamber a round in my rifle, hit the deck (literally, it’s a deck – well, a cement patio. I have yet to put the deck back up after tearing it down last year), and flip open the lens covers.
I observe through the ‘scope that if I miss (and the probability is higher than usual as the distance is about 50 yards), the bullet will sail through a storage shed, the side of which are thin, and continue on to parts unknown. The bastage! So I wait.
And wait.
Then it moves. And when it moves, it moves fast. Looks like it disappeared into a brush pile I intended for rabbits. I didn’t know they were ground burrowing yet. Huh.
I move around to try to get a shorter shot, approaching to 30 yards, then 20, then finally coming up on where it should be. It’s gone, totally disappeared.
So, I go back to reading my magazine.
And I start hearing the birds throw fits again, on the right side this time, in dense foliage high in the canopy. I see a bunch of that canopy moving. I mean, it looks like a major storm’s coming through, though the wind’s hardly blowing. I hear the squirrel jump, but again, I don’t see it. I just see the canopy move.
The squirrels, they mock me. They don’t play fair. They disappeared precisely on August 15th, the start of Indiana’s squirrel hunting season, and they’ve stayed gone. I’m pretty sure these rodents have been to Thunder Ranch because they utilize concealment better than anything I’ve seen – and my cousin’s a retired Navy SEAL. They’ve even stopped raiding my bird feeder.
I’ve been tempted to get out the shotgun and just unload #6 shot at whatever moves in the canopy, but that wouldn’t be fair to the other wildlife.
I try to pattern their movements. I go out in the morning, set up in the dark, and I choose a fire lane so I don’t have to do calisthenics trying to take a shot behind me. The fire lane always has lots of hickory an walnut trees, and is usually lined up with an area where I’ve observed them denning. Then I slip off my canteen and pack, eat something, usually cold. Very rarely do I heat water for coffee in my canteen cup – only when the wind is strong enough that I can get away with building a small fire.
I load my magazine into the rifle and chamber a round at exactly ½ hour before sunrise for that day – this is what is legal in Indiana. Then I hold perfectly still and wait.
Of course, they don’t show. Or if they do, it’s high in the canopy directly behind me, where I can’t take a shot without said calisthenics, or can’t take a shot, period, due to lack of knowledge of what’s beyond. Usually on days like this, they'll just switch up and come out near nightfall.
I’ll of course drop them like flies once the leaves are off the trees, and I’ll do it from a great distance (well, great for a a .22 long rifle, anyway).
But it will be cold then, and I really like hunting in September due to the pleasantly cool, but not cold, weather.
The squirrels need to respect that.
Josh <><
)
