np307
Well-known member
One of my hunting goals this year was to squirrel hunt more. Truth be told, I like squirrel hunting more than deer hunting. Deer are, for me, a pursuit of food. I enjoy it, but primarily because we will eat on the deer all year long. For years, that fact has blockaded squirrel hunting from occupying a higher priority position in the hunting calendar. The prime time to kill squirrels is also the prime time to kill deer. This year, however, I decided to work some squirrel hunts into the calendar. The first few times I went I was just busting greys and having a good time but a couple weeks ago I got the notion to go try to kill a fox squirrel.
Now to a lot of y'all that might seem like an odd goal. In many parts of the country, fox squirrels pretty much live alongside grey squirrels. Here in NC though, fox squirrels are an interesting story. I grew up in the piedmont region of the state and had never even known that fox squirrels existed until several years after I started hunting. I distinctly remember being about 15 feet up a loblolly pine tree when I saw this skunk moving toward me. I soon realized that this black and white creature was, in fact, not a skunk but a squirrel. I looked up "giant black and white squirrel" and discovered what a fox squirrel was. NC has a strange fox squirrel desert and my home was right in the middle of it. But as the piedmont transitions to the Sandhills and the pines take over, the dearth of fox squirrels ends and they become more prevalent again. I had killed one in my life when I lived down in the Sandhills area, but now I live over an hour from there. The daily bag limit for a fox squirrel is 1. A younger me found it ridiculous to drive over an hour for only one squirrel but last Saturday thats the goal I set out with.
The drive down to fox squirrel land brings with it memories aplenty. This area is where I learned to hunt and learned to appreciate public land. The infinite rows of loblollies contrast greatly with the hardwoods that I now hunt closer to home. Of course, there were hardwood sections down here too and I began my search for a fox squirrel about 2 miles down an open forest service road on a mixed forest ridge. The morning was cool but not cold and there was absolutely no wind blowing. I had a time contraint and so I slipped quickly along the ridge, stopping every 25 yards or so to watch and listen. I made my way down a couple hundred yards and then worked the ridge back but I saw absolutely nothing. I heard absolutely nothing. It was the stillest morning I had ever experienced.
As I started the drive out, I decided to stop off shortly at an old trail that leads to a field. I had seen fox squirrels here several times but today they were still in their dreys. Perhaps nostalgia drew me down this path as well, because I couldn't resist crossing the field and looking across the creek bottom. By this time, I had no more illusions of killing a squirrel today. Instead, I was standing in the very spot that I was sitting the evening I killed my first buck, a spike.
I reflected on how much had changed since that time. A stressful move, an 18 month old son, several deer and even an antelope and an elk -- all of that had come since the evening I killed that spike at 40 yards with my muzzleloader. I thought about how much I wanted to bring my son to these areas and share with him the lessons I have learned there. I couldn't sit and ponder too long though as other responsibilities were calling. I slipped back to the car and left, but not before noticing that the spot still had deer using it.
As the week passed I determined that I would make the same drive this morning, though to a slightly different spot. Today I decided to visit a spot in the early stages of recovery. The pines here were not loblolly, they were longleaf. There were not clean rows, but sparsely dotted trees. Instead of briers, grass grew in the undergrowth. There's an entire game land dedicated to this longleaf pine savannah restoration but this was just a small chunk of ground disconnected from that section. This habitat is unlike anything else I've encountered in the state and it truly feels foreign to walk in it. It's hard to imagine that this is actually what much of this region looked like and thus buffalo and elk even once thrived here.
I made it to this piece of ground after day had already broken. The sun brilliantly lighting my background, I slowly made my way through the tall frozen grass.
Not even 200 yards in, I noticed a white oak with two dreys in it and decided it was early enough that the squirrels were probably not out yet. I posted up behind a large pine to watch.
About 10 minutes after sunrise, I saw a squirrel exit the larger nest. It was slightly obstructed but I readied myself. As it stepped farther up the branch I saw the unmistakable mask of a fox squirrel. It shook the heavy dew from it and slowly moved down the tree. While angled toward me, I felt I had a good rest and a good shot. I squeezed the trigger and the squirrel scurried behind the trunk of the oak. I calmly waited and it began testing the waters, quickly checking to see if it could locate the cause of the commotion. Eventually it walked out on a limb presenting the most classic squirrel pose of all. This shot landed where I aimed and the squirrel fell 20 feet to the ground.
As I enjoyed the satisfaction of realizing this goal, I found the whole thing a bit comical. I had just gotten up as early as I would for work, driven over an hour, and walked about 80 yards to kill one squirrel. To me though, this squirrel represents a bit of a graduation. Having hunted enough now to actually understand what I enjoy the most, I'm proud of the fact that on a beautiful morning to be in a deer stand I was able to pick up my .22 and not feel awkward or as if I was missing something. I'm proud of the fact that I have hunted enough places now to be able to pick out the ones that I enjoy the most. And I look forward to introducing those things to my son in a few years.
I made my way back to the car and drove to another area that would be more likely to hold grey squirrels. I slipped down the path, and found the patch of hardwoods I was looking for. I watched the treetops and listened for leaves rustling when I noticed a shape jump from a pine tree to a medium sized oak. I moved toward the tree to realize it was another fox squirrel. I easily closed to within 30 yards and could have killed it if the bag limit weren't 1 per day. Instead, I got to watch this one for a little bit before it decided it didn't like me hanging around. I hunted the area for grey squirrels with little success for the next hour or so and then made my way back.
At home, I turned my attention to the next part of this endeavor. I've never tanned the hide of any animal before and I like this particular color phase of squirrel so I set out to try it. I'm happy with the skinning, especially that I was able to get the head and tail. While skinning the squirrel I realized that my first shot of the morning wasn't a miss, but had instead struck the back leg of the squirrel (meaning it was just high based on the angle he was sitting at the time). I completed the task, buried the hide in borax, and put the meat in the refrigerator. We'll eat the squirrel for supper one night this week, but hopefully the hide will serve as a reminder of a beautiful morning and a marker of a new chapter in my hunting life.
Now to a lot of y'all that might seem like an odd goal. In many parts of the country, fox squirrels pretty much live alongside grey squirrels. Here in NC though, fox squirrels are an interesting story. I grew up in the piedmont region of the state and had never even known that fox squirrels existed until several years after I started hunting. I distinctly remember being about 15 feet up a loblolly pine tree when I saw this skunk moving toward me. I soon realized that this black and white creature was, in fact, not a skunk but a squirrel. I looked up "giant black and white squirrel" and discovered what a fox squirrel was. NC has a strange fox squirrel desert and my home was right in the middle of it. But as the piedmont transitions to the Sandhills and the pines take over, the dearth of fox squirrels ends and they become more prevalent again. I had killed one in my life when I lived down in the Sandhills area, but now I live over an hour from there. The daily bag limit for a fox squirrel is 1. A younger me found it ridiculous to drive over an hour for only one squirrel but last Saturday thats the goal I set out with.
The drive down to fox squirrel land brings with it memories aplenty. This area is where I learned to hunt and learned to appreciate public land. The infinite rows of loblollies contrast greatly with the hardwoods that I now hunt closer to home. Of course, there were hardwood sections down here too and I began my search for a fox squirrel about 2 miles down an open forest service road on a mixed forest ridge. The morning was cool but not cold and there was absolutely no wind blowing. I had a time contraint and so I slipped quickly along the ridge, stopping every 25 yards or so to watch and listen. I made my way down a couple hundred yards and then worked the ridge back but I saw absolutely nothing. I heard absolutely nothing. It was the stillest morning I had ever experienced.
As I started the drive out, I decided to stop off shortly at an old trail that leads to a field. I had seen fox squirrels here several times but today they were still in their dreys. Perhaps nostalgia drew me down this path as well, because I couldn't resist crossing the field and looking across the creek bottom. By this time, I had no more illusions of killing a squirrel today. Instead, I was standing in the very spot that I was sitting the evening I killed my first buck, a spike.
I reflected on how much had changed since that time. A stressful move, an 18 month old son, several deer and even an antelope and an elk -- all of that had come since the evening I killed that spike at 40 yards with my muzzleloader. I thought about how much I wanted to bring my son to these areas and share with him the lessons I have learned there. I couldn't sit and ponder too long though as other responsibilities were calling. I slipped back to the car and left, but not before noticing that the spot still had deer using it.
As the week passed I determined that I would make the same drive this morning, though to a slightly different spot. Today I decided to visit a spot in the early stages of recovery. The pines here were not loblolly, they were longleaf. There were not clean rows, but sparsely dotted trees. Instead of briers, grass grew in the undergrowth. There's an entire game land dedicated to this longleaf pine savannah restoration but this was just a small chunk of ground disconnected from that section. This habitat is unlike anything else I've encountered in the state and it truly feels foreign to walk in it. It's hard to imagine that this is actually what much of this region looked like and thus buffalo and elk even once thrived here.
I made it to this piece of ground after day had already broken. The sun brilliantly lighting my background, I slowly made my way through the tall frozen grass.
Not even 200 yards in, I noticed a white oak with two dreys in it and decided it was early enough that the squirrels were probably not out yet. I posted up behind a large pine to watch.
About 10 minutes after sunrise, I saw a squirrel exit the larger nest. It was slightly obstructed but I readied myself. As it stepped farther up the branch I saw the unmistakable mask of a fox squirrel. It shook the heavy dew from it and slowly moved down the tree. While angled toward me, I felt I had a good rest and a good shot. I squeezed the trigger and the squirrel scurried behind the trunk of the oak. I calmly waited and it began testing the waters, quickly checking to see if it could locate the cause of the commotion. Eventually it walked out on a limb presenting the most classic squirrel pose of all. This shot landed where I aimed and the squirrel fell 20 feet to the ground.
As I enjoyed the satisfaction of realizing this goal, I found the whole thing a bit comical. I had just gotten up as early as I would for work, driven over an hour, and walked about 80 yards to kill one squirrel. To me though, this squirrel represents a bit of a graduation. Having hunted enough now to actually understand what I enjoy the most, I'm proud of the fact that on a beautiful morning to be in a deer stand I was able to pick up my .22 and not feel awkward or as if I was missing something. I'm proud of the fact that I have hunted enough places now to be able to pick out the ones that I enjoy the most. And I look forward to introducing those things to my son in a few years.
I made my way back to the car and drove to another area that would be more likely to hold grey squirrels. I slipped down the path, and found the patch of hardwoods I was looking for. I watched the treetops and listened for leaves rustling when I noticed a shape jump from a pine tree to a medium sized oak. I moved toward the tree to realize it was another fox squirrel. I easily closed to within 30 yards and could have killed it if the bag limit weren't 1 per day. Instead, I got to watch this one for a little bit before it decided it didn't like me hanging around. I hunted the area for grey squirrels with little success for the next hour or so and then made my way back.
At home, I turned my attention to the next part of this endeavor. I've never tanned the hide of any animal before and I like this particular color phase of squirrel so I set out to try it. I'm happy with the skinning, especially that I was able to get the head and tail. While skinning the squirrel I realized that my first shot of the morning wasn't a miss, but had instead struck the back leg of the squirrel (meaning it was just high based on the angle he was sitting at the time). I completed the task, buried the hide in borax, and put the meat in the refrigerator. We'll eat the squirrel for supper one night this week, but hopefully the hide will serve as a reminder of a beautiful morning and a marker of a new chapter in my hunting life.
