The first game animal I shot with a muzzleloader was a squirrel with a .45 over 35 years ago. I tucked the rifle between my coat and back, zipped the garment up tight, climbed a small diameter tree to ascend to a large horizonal sycamore branch about 12' off the ground to wait for a whitetail to saunter by. As the shadows lengthen that first deer season afternoon my patience was tested and found wanting. Didn't help that ol boar fox squirrel didn't approve of my presence up in his realm and commenced to barking, scolding, tail flipping all while giving me the evil eye on eye level with my improvised perch. Convinced that all deer in the parcel were never to slip through the trail toward the adjoining corn field while this little tree rat was alerting every being of the lump of an intruder sitting on the sycamore limb was only there with nefarious intent, the plan was to pop a #11 cap to unleash fire and lead at said squirrel's cocked head. At least I would walk back to the house with something to show for the effort.
The boom was immediate. The lifeless carcass of squirrel was tossed from his position instantaneously. My satisfaction was complete. I would slither down said climbing tree to claim the prize of headless fur ball, tote him home by the tail and show my prowess as a great white hunter with the abundance of organic meat that the mighty weapon carried in the other hand, as well as my rock steady aim, provided for a grateful and adoring family. Consider the crestfallen look upon my mug when hefting the mangled critter from the leaf litter of that small spot on this great globe. The projectile veered slightly left, missing the noggin but careening into the neck, down the length of the body and out the spuge hole, causing everything in between to sully what little edible muscle left on the frame that could be found. Hoss Dog ate well that evening. Me? Nothing. Nothing to show for time spent on that hard slick branch but memories and experience. But what a memory and experience it was.
I didn't shoot at another squirrel with the .45 after that. The next Spring I purchased a TC Cherokee kit in .32 and made even more memories, and edible meat for the pot.
Keep the recap of your hunts coming, Ed. Don't think I'll make it down to the Dan'l Boone this Spring season, as I have the last two. The mating season started on our last day two years ago. That was a wild and exciting morning of hunting along the South Fork. You have much more to look forward to if it is anything like that day was in June. 2023 we went in May and it was a dead forest by comparison. June was better by far.
We'll be here with popcorn and sody pop for the next installment you'll be typing.
