I was at State Game Land 203, hunting squirrels during the small game season, and also checking the woods for deer sign. I had not often seen squirrels there, but I knew there were some, so I was hopeful. I did the usual, walk and wait, while listening for the leaves to rustle, or the tell-tale bark of a bushytail. After an hour of walking without any trace of squirrel, I finally saw one climbing head-down on a smallish beech tree. I raised my scoped 22 rifle, but the crosshairs on the scope would not settle due to shaking hands. My breath came fast and my heartbeat sped up. Bang! Miss. I tried once more to get a bead on the creature, but he circled several trees, hit the ground and took off. You would have thought I was looking at a twelve-point Buck.
Later down the trail I ran into another hunter. He was also after small game; "Meat is meat," he said, and he didn't care if it was squirrel or pheasant. He had one squirrel, and was looking for another. I asked him why I had not seen many squirrels here. "The hide in the thick stuff in the bottom," he said. "There were so many squirrels here I thought the Game Commission had planted them instead of pheasant." And with that cheerful news I went on my way. I did see one more squirrel running across the road, but I had pity on him. Also I was sure I could never make the shot.
Wayne