Not that I didn’t spend time practicing with my BB-gun on tins cans or the occasional pigeon or mourning dove, but to go on a real hunt with a real shotgun was my dream. When the big day finally came and I had passed my hunter safety course, my grandfather sent me his shotguns, a 16-gauge Remington Wingmaster and a LeFever .410 trap gun. I was in my glory and could not wait to go on my first pheasant hunt.
My grandfather grew up in a different era, and if that old LeFever .410 could speak, it would tell volumes about life before and during the depression. My grandfather told of how he had traded three freshly killed rabbits for that little gun from a man that needed food.
I often wondered why he didn’t use the gun and shoot his own food, but that’s one question I will never know the answer to. Back in those days, young boys who grew up on farms were partly responsible for putting food on the table and I am sure that .410 brought in plenty.
It was common for families to eat Brunswick stew; a hearty meal originally made with squirrel. Similarly, cottontails and snowshoe hare were a popular fare. Today, you don’t hear much about people going small game hunting around here, but the equipment list is small and the rewards are plenty.
Back in college, my roommates and I would go on Saturday hunts and anything legal was fair game. We would hunt partridge, woodcock, rabbits and squirrels and have impromptu game banquets afterwards. If we got partridge, it was cubed and fried in peanut oil, as was woodcock.
f we took rabbit or squirrel, they would get cut up for a slow-cooked stew. Fried rabbit and squirrel tidbits mixed with carrots, celery, potatoes, water and a tablespoon or two of flour was a hearty feed that was well appreciated by all in the group. We were thrilled to be able to harvest our meals from the forest, much like our ancestors did.
Majoring in Wildlife Management, we spent a great deal of time with instructors and other classmates who shared our enjoyment of hunting. Our student chapter of the Wildlife Society even sponsored a game banquet each spring and literally everything you could eat was on the menu. I sampled such unique fare as barbecued raccoon, fried porcupine, and woodchuck stew, along with the usual fare such as venison cutlets, moose roast, roast duck and fried partridge breasts. Now something like a raccoon or porcupine might not sound appetizing to you, but I can attest that each one of these meals was delicious. Today’s hunters don’t seem to spend much time going after these less popular game animals, but they are missing out on an abundant source of food and sport.
If you’d like to try your hand at squirrel hunting, don’t assume that these gray denizens of downtown parks and bird feeders are an easy mark. Locating, stalking and bagging a gray squirrel in the woods is no simple feat. Gray squirrels, like deer, have uncanny hearing and eyesight, which serves to keep their populations abundant. One sure test of your stalking and shooting skills is to hunt them with a .22 rifle. Now anyone can take a squirrel with a shotgun, but a rifle requires a keen eye and a steady aim. The first step in still-hunting squirrels begins with locating them. I would always walk into an oak stand where I knew the squirrels would be filling up on acorns.
Next, the hunter should sit down against a tree and listen. If you hear acorns dropping in the distance, you have located a squirrel on the feed. Slowly stalk your way to the noise and keep your eyes peeled for movement in the canopy ahead. I like to imitate the bark of a squirrel by puffing out my cheeks and tapping them with my fist, emitting a Donald Duck-like sound that starts with a fast tempo and ends slowly. This will oftentimes cause the squirrel to stop what he or she is doing and poke their head up from a tree branch. If the squirrel spots you first, it will most likely flatten itself out on a tree limb or go to the opposite side of the trunk and hide.
One old woodsman’s trick to bring a squirrel around to your side is to take off your coat and hang it on a sapling. This creates the silhouette of a man. You then walk around the tree, causing the squirrel to retreat. Once ol’ bushytail sees the jacket, they think it’s a hunter and scurry back toward the side you are standing on. A quick shot with your rifle puts another squirrel in the game bag.
When hunting with a rifle, I try to limit myself to head shots only. The bulk of the meat on a squirrel is on the hindquarters, so a body shot won’t damage any meat, but a head shot ensures a quick end for the critter.
Rabbits, or snowshoes as we commonly see are great sport in the fall before the snow flies. As they near winter, their brown coat turns white, so an early October hare may be hard to spot, but a November hare is a stark white against a dull brown forest background. While beagle hunters have the upper hand on locating and bagging rabbits, still hunters earn their trophies. Typically I would take a rabbit when I spotted one while partridge hunting. Oftentimes we would get into a “herd” of hares and take several by staying with them as they scurried away. I had read somewhere that a rabbit would typically stop and turn to see if you were still following it, which made the ideal time for a shot, but I think the hares I hunted didn’t read the same books as I did. My hares always kept on running and had to be taken mid-stride!
There are a variety of other less-than-common game species out there to take. Use your imagination and be open to trying new recipes. You just might find a new sport to occupy your spare fall moments.
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