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Tricia and I brought Amos to the squirrel woods this evening for his first squirrel hunt. He’s tree’d a bunch with me at work or around the house but I’ve never actually taken him with a gun to hunt. Was pretty windy and nothing moving till about 6 pm. We walked by one on the ground across a little drain but it did not go undetected by Amos. He quickly put it up a very tall water oak, and after “several” shots I finally brought him down. He crunched his head pretty good because he was still alive. Then brought him to me.


2nd squirrel he ran up a shorter tree that provided a much easier kill. He went and picked it up and brought it about halfway to me, “we’ll work on that”.

Wasn’t much moving but we made good on what he found.






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If you’ll remember, back in October he fetched a limit of doves for me.




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Reminds me of Shep. My maternal grandfather always had do-it-all dogs that would fetch the cows and hunt whatever he did, most of which were "farm collies" named Ring for the ones around their necks. But Shep, a you guessed it, was the first of the lot in my memory. Grandpa's absolute favorite hunting and meal was squirrel, and Shep, like the Rings to follow, was adept at treeing them. Pretty sure they all depended more on their ears than nose.

My second "Lab" was a rescue. Neighbors insisted that I needed to look at these pups from the ad on the Casey's note-board in Paxton, IL.

Sad story about neighbors' dog hopping fence and knocking up prize retriever. Story was "half black Lab..."half Golden".
The guy with the female Lab was so furious that he threw the pups out into a blizzard. Neighbors called 5-0...long story but I ended up with this fat black puppy with one blue eye. Could not say no to them kids. They were on a quest to rescue them pups. I took the last one and we named him Buddy Lee after them Lee jeans ads. Our friend "Bud" aka: Brian took it really hard. That dog was not much good as a water dog because he was actually part border collie.
HOWEVER: You never saw such a rabbit dog. Buddy Lee had that shit down. He was a natural. He was fearless and once chased a coyote about 1.5 miles until it ran into a culvert. It broke the wife's heart when Buddy died in front of the gun case.
He was one heck of a rabbit chaser.

Yea Rick he hunts mostly with his eyes and ears but I did notice him smelling what was probably where one went up a tree that evening as well. We shook some vines and made some noise but that squirrel had either moved on or was in its hole.


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Ericdc wrote:If you’ll remember, back in October he fetched a limit of doves for me.




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Cool dog Eric!

Our farm is a lake, looks like 2015.



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Yarch! Just thought I was sick of our rotten ground until I saw news clips from elsewhere in the country. And it looks like the flooding's found you.

Yea lotta water coming downstream from Arkansas too. We are soggy in the piney Woods, but no flooding.

But yea lot of flooding in the delta.


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Squirrels moved real good this evening and Amos was on his game. We killed 6 and tree’d several more that I couldn’t get a shot at. Let an easy double go right at dark because 6 is all I wanted to clean. Nice sunny evening with no wind.





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NICE! It's been some time since I've hunted squirrel. I have fond memories from my way younger years, waiting anxiously for opening morning.

They were my first game and what brought me back into hunting after a post service hiatus of a year or two when I'd lost the desire. While visiting my hillbilly grandmother, bless her sweet soul, she told me how much she missed the squirrels my (already passed) grandfather used to bring home and all but stuck his .22 in my hands and pushed me out the door. His "three steps and stop" and "sit by the hickories" came with me and by the time I'd shot whatever the limit then was, I was a hunter again.

Grandma, who may very well have felt I needed to hunt more than she needed the squirrels, ran off the porch and into the yard to meet me as I came off the hill. But then her face fell, and though she said nothing, I realized my mistake of having head-shot them. Peeled that mess of them as Grandpa used to with the help of his ancient shop vice and went back out to become a poacher.

Only that time with Grandpa's "...just through the ribs, don't waste the good parts" in my ear.

Being too lazy to clean them for our table (especially since losing the nifty little horseshoe shaped head and foot skinning jig I once had), I've not shot a squirrel since Sweet Chereaux's grandmother passed. She was a fan of the heads, too, but I can't say I was ever attracted enough to the orange-toothed skulls to eat beyond the cheeks and discover what so many of the old folks craved.

Oh man. Rick is a Robert Ruark wannabee.

Wish I could say I was more familiar with his work, but you may very well have read more of it than I have. Was a time when it seemed most everyone had.

Rick wrote:They were my first game and what brought me back into hunting after a post service hiatus of a year or two when I'd lost the desire. While visiting my hillbilly grandmother, bless her sweet soul, she told me how much she missed the squirrels my (already passed) grandfather used to bring home and all but stuck his .22 in my hands and pushed me out the door. His "three steps and stop" and "sit by the hickories" came with me and by the time I'd shot whatever the limit then was, I was a hunter again.

Grandma, who may very well have felt I needed to hunt more than she needed the squirrels, ran off the porch and into the yard to meet me as I came off the hill. But then her face fell, and though she said nothing, I realized my mistake of having head-shot them. Peeled that mess of them as Grandpa used to with the help of his ancient shop vice and went back out to become a poacher.

Only that time with Grandpa's "...just through the ribs, don't waste the good parts" in my ear.

Being too lazy to clean them for our table (especially since losing the nifty little horseshoe shaped head and foot skinning jig I once had), I've not shot a squirrel since Sweet Chereaux's grandmother passed. She was a fan of the heads, too, but I can't say I was ever attracted enough to the orange-toothed skulls to eat beyond the cheeks and discover what so many of the old folks craved.

Da Brain! It's all about the brain!

Ducaholic wrote:

Rick wrote:They were my first game and what brought me back into hunting after a post service hiatus of a year or two when I'd lost the desire. While visiting my hillbilly grandmother, bless her sweet soul, she told me how much she missed the squirrels my (already passed) grandfather used to bring home and all but stuck his .22 in my hands and pushed me out the door. His "three steps and stop" and "sit by the hickories" came with me and by the time I'd shot whatever the limit then was, I was a hunter again.

Grandma, who may very well have felt I needed to hunt more than she needed the squirrels, ran off the porch and into the yard to meet me as I came off the hill. But then her face fell, and though she said nothing, I realized my mistake of having head-shot them. Peeled that mess of them as Grandpa used to with the help of his ancient shop vice and went back out to become a poacher.

Only that time with Grandpa's "...just through the ribs, don't waste the good parts" in my ear.

Being too lazy to clean them for our table (especially since losing the nifty little horseshoe shaped head and foot skinning jig I once had), I've not shot a squirrel since Sweet Chereaux's grandmother passed. She was a fan of the heads, too, but I can't say I was ever attracted enough to the orange-toothed skulls to eat beyond the cheeks and discover what so many of the old folks craved.

Da Brain! It's all about the brain!

Suck it out of the eye socket.

Crack the skull with a butter knife is how I seen it done.

My mother became the most citified hillbilly ever, and could still crack squirrel skulls with the back of her fork with the best of 'em.

But while I was once a huge fan of cattle brains, I doubt I'll ever taste a squirrel's. Just something about those orange teeth and hollow eye sockets I couldn't get past.

My mother became the most citified hillbilly ever, and could still crack squirrel skulls with the back of her fork with the best of 'em.

But while I was once a huge fan of cattle brains, I doubt I'll ever taste a squirrel's. Just something about those orange teeth and hollow eye sockets I couldn't get past.

Am only half hillbilly. The rest is straight-up German.

When my father and his father would argue in German would make your hair stand up.
Then my dad would start yelling in Russian and end it.

I know the old timers loved their squirrel brains, but also thought I had remembered reading something about them as a possible cause of Alzheimer's too............

Fresh squirrel and dumplings were great last night. Love eating game that’s fresh and unfrozen. These were from Monday’s hunt.


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Squirrel pot pie, that's what we call it, I love it. I haven't had it in a very long time. I don't have any place to squirrel hunt near where I live. I enjoy squirrel hunting and miss it.

That looks good, Eric.

Attended the Family Field Day put on by the Gulf Coast chapter of Delta Waterfowl this past Saturday. Brought my wife, nephew, and Amos. Had a really good time and met a few folks in person that I’ve texted with numerous times.

Nephew did real well on a door prize.


Got to show the dog off a little.



Ate some wonderful jambalaya

Competed in my first ever calling competition and placed where I thought I probably should have. Pretty nerve racking to call in front of a crowd, but glad I did it. Was good to see John C. like always and get some pointers on what to work on in offseason.

Also met Ben Page and the barred up outfitters crew, along with the guy from SpeckHQ.







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Congrats to you, and nephew.......lifetime license is huge!

Sounds like a big, and profitable, time.

This gun caught my eye back in January and I gave it 2 months to wear off. It didn’t



Maxus Sporting 3” chamber 30” barrel

Won’t replace my every day Browning Gold duck gun but will take it on those nicer sunny days. Will allow me to let me loan out my Gold to nephew when he comes, since he doesn’t have a waterfowl gun.

Tricia also found one to her liking we might end up with before next season.




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Being a pictures first kind of reader, I'd assumed her new gun was the key to yours.