August 23, 2007
By: Sid Riley
This column presents a non-partisan, conservative viewpoint about items of interest in our community and our lives. Focus is on items that are impacting your pocket book, your personal freedoms, and your rights. I hope that you will read the column regularly and that it occasionally influences your opinions and actions. Now, on to the subject of the week:
"Mother Nature Is Still In Charge!!"
It was just one more day before the late August squirrel Season opened and I was ready. The year was 1954 and I had the normal passion of a fifteen year old for the thrills of hunting. This year I was especially anticipating the onset of the annual fall hunting seasons, eager to test the new 16 gauge shotgun that I had received from my parents for my birthday.
Our family lived in a small frame house located on the impressive Tapp Farm. The house was provided to my father by his employer, the Sun Oil Company for a rental of $5.00 per month. It was a typical country setting in the lush, rolling hills and rich farm land of Western Kentucky. These rolling hills blended into the even more productive flat bottom fields along the Ohio River just a few miles further to the North.
In August, the fields of corn fill almost all cleared land, with proud green stalks standing over ten feet in height. The tall plants were now becoming laden with the long ears of corn that would become this year’s fall harvest in October.
A short distance away from the house, on the Carter lease, was a large stand of uncut forest that covered some two hundred acres. That wooded spot was where I planned to be at daylight on that first day of squirrel hunting season. I had already spent several days of scouting the Carter woods, and had located a large wild cherry tree that was being used by the squirrels as a feeding site. I felt sure that I would get some real shooting action there when the long awaited opening day of season arrived.
I had even chosen the exact spot where I would patiently sit, waiting for first daylight. The wild cherry tree grew from a low hollow in the ground, edged on three sides by higher bluffs that reached a level about three-fourths the height of the tree. By sitting on the point of the nearest bluff, I would be looking straight across into the top of the tree. This was an ideal set-up for shooting any squirrels that might be scampering around in the tree at sunrise.
We always fried and ate any game that we killed. I was not especially fond of squirrel meat, it was too dark and gamy for my taste. Mom cooked the squirrel in the same manner she fried chicken, first dusting the meat with a coating of flower and then skillet frying. The part of the meal that I really relished was the delicious cream gravy that she made from the residue left in the skillet. My Dad and I could take a loaf of white bread and a pot of Mom’s special squirrel cream gravy and make a memorable meal.
The night before the appointed morning I carefully laid out my hunting vest on a chair in my bedroom, filled the shell compartments with number six shotgun shells, placed my hunting hat alongside, and positioned my hunting boots and socks underneath. I was ready for the hunt.
Since I had to get up at 4:00 AM in order to be at my site in the woods before daylight, I set the alarm clock and positioned it on the night stand next to the bed. I remember lying in bed, wide awake, unable to fall asleep due to my eager anticipation for the events of the coming morning. Finally sleep came……..
I awoke at the first instant of noise from the clock, my hand dashing to the button to stop the alarm before it disturbed my Mon and Dad, who were sleeping a short distance down the Hallway. In just a few minutes I was dressed and was quietly slipping out the back door, gun in hand. It was a two mile walk in the pre morning darkness to the Carter woods.
First down the gravel road to the entrance of the Carter lease, across the cattle guard and then following the rough oil lease road up the hill to the woods. I only used my flashlight on a few occasions, since the moon was bright and the route familiar.
Once I crossed the fence and entered the woods, I had to use the light continuously in order to work my way through the maze of trees and fallen logs. After a little searching, I found the exact spot on the bluff that I had identified on my earlier visits. I sat down on the leaf covered ground, placed my gun next to me, leaned back against a tree, and waited for first daylight.
The darkness was totally quiet and still, soon causing me to drift in and out of a light sleep. At one point I awoke, thinking that I had heard a slight noise in the darkness to my right. I listened intently for a few moments, heard nothing, and then finally dozed off again into semi-consciousness.
I suddenly awoke with a start, realizing that I HAD heard a noise nearby, hidden out there in the darkness! It was a rustling in the leaves, steadily moving towards me, now only a few yards away! I strained my eyes in the dim light, trying to determine what it was.
"Perhaps it’s a squirrel moving towards the cherry tree for his breakfast", was a thought that passed my mind.
As the creature moved even closer, I was able to make out the shape of a small animal moving casually through the leaves, occasionally stopping to sniff the air as it moved to within a few feet from me. Suddenly I realized what it was,……A SKUNK!!
I stiffened and sat perfectly still as I gazed in horror at the small, potentially potent creature that was now sniffing the ground only a few inches from my right thigh. The skunk slowly turned to the right and began to move down my outstretched leg, staying only inches away. It moved down past my knee, down to my ankle, where it stopped and again nosed the ground.
"It thinks that I am a log!" I thought as I watched the skunk casually flick its bushy, white striped tail.
Afraid to breathe! Pulse pounding in fear! I watched as he turned toward my ankles, obviously preparing to climb over them at that point!
"If it touches me, it will realize that it has encountered something alive!" , raced through my mind. "HE WILL BE IN MY LAP….AND SPRAYING!!"
Unable to bear the suspense of the situation any further, and fearing the ultimate disaster… a full wetting from the skunk’s ill perfumed defensive system, I leapt to my feet while grabbing my gun, and sped from the unfortunate site. The startled skunk spun around and sprayed his lethal liquid at this fleeing youngster.
I was lucky, only a few drops hit the back of my hunting vest as I ran out of range. However, if you have ever smelled the vile potion that this seemingly harmless varmint can emit, you know that a few sprinkles, in fact only one sprinkle, is all that it takes to create an awfully uncomfortable environment. A little bit goes a long way!
I had to come out of that vest immediately, unable to withstand its reeking presence, much less wear it. I carefully placed it upon a large stump at an easy to find location. Then I moved back up to the edge of the bluff overlooking the cherry tree.
By this time the dawn grayness was developing, and I could begin to make out the shape of the tree. My new location on the bluff still offered a good view of the tree, although it was several yards further away.
As I again waited for enough light to see my tree climbing quarry in the, I occasionally got a faint whiff of the toxic fumes coming from my first choice location, now some forty yards away. Suddenly I saw movement in the tree!
I strained my eyes in the slowly improving morning light, trying to determine the exact location of the squirrel that I knew was enjoying a wild cherry breakfast in the tree top. Then I saw a second movement! Then a third! Suddenly there were squirrels all over the tree, feeding and playing in the branches high above the forest floor.
There! I could clearly make out the shape of a gray squirrel perched at the end of a limb, preparing to leap to another nearby limb. I carefully took aim and squeezed the trigger.
BOOM!! The roar of the shotgun sounded like a cannon, breaking the morning stillness of the woods.
THUMP! I heard the squirrel hit the ground under the tree, my first kill of the season! I knew that several more squirrels were still in the tree, so I sat completely still, waiting for another movement.
The waiting game continued for another fifteen minutes, neither squirrel nor man daring to move, each seeking out the other. Finally a second squirrel made a fatal mistake, unable to resist the temptation of a nearby juicy cherry and a hungry morning appetite. This target was further away, almost to the range limit of my 16 gauge Remington.
I saw the movement, again took careful aim, and squeezed the trigger - BOOM! The squirrel fell from the limb and then caught onto another branch located lower in the tree. It clung to the branch for a moment and then managed to pull itself up onto the limb.
I realized that the squirrel had only been wounded, since shooting from this location almost put him out of range for my sixteen gauge. I again took aim and fired my last remaining shell - BOOM!
I saw my bushy tailed quarry hit the ground under the tree and run towards a huge stump. I raced down the bluff in hot pursuit, just in time to see the little varmint dart into a hole in the ground located at the base of the stump in the "V" formed by two large roots.
However, the squirrel did not disappear into the hole. Instead he only had his body in the hole, with his tail still protruding and jerking wildly from side to side.
I placed my gun on the ground next to the stump as I developed a plan of action for dealing with this situation. A small tree, about six inches in diameter conveniently grew alongside the stump. My plan was to grab the jerking tail, and in one motion pull the wounded squirrel from the hole, swing him around and quickly kill him by bashing his head against the tree, thus putting him out of his misery and adding him to my score for the hunt.
I was very much aware of the instinctive quickness of this animal, and its ability to bite, so I knew my actions would have to be quick and accurate. I took a deep breath, grabbed the jerking tail, pulled the squirrel out of the hole and started the planned swing.
It was at this moment a new, unexpected factor was introduced into the situation. When I removed the squirrel from the hole
it was not unlike removing the cork from a bottle.
Instantly an angry horde of large, yellow and black bumblebees rose in a cloud from the hole! I was immediately identified as an enemy as they launched their attack!
This pitiful situation was helped slightly when I released the now forgotten squirrel’s tail and prepared for flight. Upon release the squirrel stupidly ran back into the hole, again plugging the entrance and stopping the emergence of a portion of the stinging, angry army that lay underground.
Nevertheless, enough bees had emerged to more than get my total attention. They seemed to focus their attack on the back of my neck and my hair, punctuating their presence with their painful barbs. I screamed aloud and slapped wildly at my hair as they pursued my frantic attempt to escape as I ran at break neck speed through the forest.
After I had slapped and run in a panic for several minutes and had covered quite a distance, the attack seemed to abate. This hunter turned prey decided to pause for breath.
Suddenly the attack was resumed!
The angry swarm had caught up to me again, their desire for revenge not yet satisfied. Thus the running and desperate slapping resumed as I endured more stings and traversed more distance at speeds never before seen, even by my football coach.
I finally reached the edge of the woods and entered a wheat field. The plants were about waist high and wet with the morning dew. I crawled on my hands and knees under the canopy of plants, hoping that the wetness would discourage my relentless pursuers and end the attack.
Finally there remained only one last, determined bee that was exploring in my hair. I slapped it to the ground before me as he made his presence known by stinging me just behind my left ear.. Before he could again regain flight for another bomb run, I took my thumb and mashed him into the dirt. In one final, valiant act of reprisal, he stung my thumb before being crushed by the pressure.
After resting, regaining some composure, and nursing my more painful wounds, I reentered the woods and found my way back to my hunting grounds. At the top of the bluff I easily found my fouled vest. I then went to the base of the cherry tree and retrieved the first squirrel that I had shot. I placed the squirrel in the game pocket of the skunk perfumed garment.
Next, I eased up to the stump where the second squirrel had fled for refuge. That poor squirrel was still lodged as a plug in that portal of pain, but the once active tail now lay limp and motionless.
For one foolish moment I considered trying to retrieve this second kill for my game bag, but then wisely decided it was not worth the risk. Instead, I located my sixteen gauge and carefully eased it away from this battle zone. Then I started for home.
As I walked toward home, back down the lease road away from the woods, I thought for a moment that I could hear sounds of laughter and celebration coming from within forest. It might have been the wind, but I was suspicious that it was my foes celebrating their victory over this intruder to their domain..
I will never forget that first hunt of my fifteenth year. It was the day the skunks, squirrels, and bees mustered a combined, coordinated force that chased my young butt all the way out of the woods!
We should always remember that Mother Nature is still in charge. If we do then we will be "Getting It right"!
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