Saturday was a doe only muzzleloader day in Wild Wonderful. Daybreak found me in the Daniel stand. My son killed a big spike out of the stand during his first hunting trip at the cabin six years ago.
A windy, cool, overcast morning made it feel like hunting season. The leaves were beginning to fall and the acorns were dropping. Deer were moving, as I had a spike nearly sneak past me. A while later a doe and fawn made their way across the ridge above me. They didn’t give me a clean shot opportunity as they were very difficult to see in the brush. The flick of an ear and paying attention to “horizontal lines in a vertical world” allowed me to see them in the first place. No reaction from them as they got down-wind. Mission accomplished thanks to Scent-Blocker garments and Dead-Down-Wind spray.
As the winds continued to blow and the rain approached, I realized I was dressed way too lightly. But, I was smart (or lucky) enough to have packed a fleece neck gaiter and hat. They allowed me to keep hunting with some degree of comfort. That’s when the parade of Mutant squirrels started.
First, a gray with half a tail was jumping from tree-to-tree. He looked healthy enough, at least until he missed a limb and came tumbling down. Felt bad for the old boy, as he looked around to make sure “nobody” was looking. As he faced me, the end of his tail stuck up just above his head and looked like an Indian head-dress. I named him “Chief Crazy Squirrel”. He kept moving as though nothing had happened. Couldn’t help but think of what I would have felt like if I had fallen from my perch. That’s why I never climb up or down or sit in the stand without being attached by a safety harness. I don’t bounce like I used to.
Next, a white squirrel with a red tail ran over a log underneath my tree. He was a fat fox squirrel that stood out like a sore thumb. He was not albino, but had pure white hair. How he eludes the hawks, owls, foxes and bob cats is beyond me. “Great White” was not the first white fox squirrel I’ve seen so there must be some sort of genetic tendency in the area.
Last but not least, a fox squirrel with a pure black head tried to share the oak with me. He looked as though he had a black mask on. I dubbed him “The Phantom”. We had to come to an understanding about sharing the tree; he decided it was not a good idea and continued on, but not without barking at me first.
Do only crazy people name squirrels? Possibly, but what the heck, you are what you are. Another eventful morning in a tree, as most are, as long as you are willing to pay attention and take it all in. Can’t wait until it’s time to do it again.
Don’t let a little rain keep you out of the woods Predators. After all, you can’t kill ‘em from the couch.
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