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SQUIRREL SEASON OPENS…VOLUNTEER STATE TRADITION CONTINUES
By Steve McCadams
Bouncing from limb to limb the bushy tails have been busy lately. Some
high in the treetops; others just roaming at random in low areas
sampling the opportunities of late August acorns.
Tennessee’s statewide squirrel season opens Saturday and it’s one of the
state’s longest hunting seasons as this year it runs all the way through
March 15, 2023. While there are a few small game seasons open year round
such as coyote, beaver groundhog, striped skunk and armadillo you get
the idea.
Squirrel hunters will again have a liberal daily bag limit of ten
offered to them. That’s been the norm for many years but in all honesty
the list of hunters bagging a 10-squirrel limit on a morning outing is
relatively short. But it does happen. A tip of the hat to those straight
shooters.
All signs point to a pretty good season ahead. That is if you find the
acorns. Some ridges and deep bottom hardwoods are showing abundant signs
where squirrels have been cutting away on scaly bark hickories and other
mast producing varieties of trees.
The drought conditions earlier this summer had pushed squirrels to areas
offering access to water or ridges with abundant mast—sometimes good
looking spots just don’t have the acorns---but it appears that scenario
has eased up a bit. A lot of folks are seeing big numbers of squirrels
moving about these last few weeks so things look promising.
There’s no better time to introduce a youngster to the outdoors than
exposing them to the early morning wake-up call of the squirrel woods. A
silent walk down old logging roads or quiet sandy ditches---maybe a cow
path or two---will help introduce kids to the sights and sounds of
Mother Nature waking from a summer night’s sleep.
Kids remember most what you do with them…not just for them. That’s why
walking along clinging to the guiding hand of a mentor helps put them at
ease in a new environment. Taking steps on a pitch dark journey has its
own uneasiness but reassuring that young boy or girl everything is okay
will help tentative feet move freely.
It’s an educational hike into the deep dark woods as there will be a lot
of “what’s that” questions. Owls hooting their predawn serenades as they
turn the darkness over to daybreak blue-jays and squawking crows.
These keepers of forest gates sound off once intruders are heard and
seen. No problem as the start and stop walk allows time to listen and
observe as daylight peaks through a thick canopy of timber and wakes up
a sleepy world.
Dodging a few spider webs and ducking a branch or two are all part of
the experience. All the time looking and listening is part of it too.
A little scouting will take you back to where the clumsy gray squirrels
partake of the daylight breakfast buffet. From branch to branch they
navigate their path from one tree to another and scurry up flimsy twigs
where their bounty grows in clumps.
Hard to believe they can maneuver like they do. Darting here and there
with acrobatic leaps saved from a long fall by limber branches. Yet the
squirrels seem to know just how much spring a flimsy branch will hold
and just how far to jump.
Often times they munch then fumble, dropping a hefty acorn to the forest
floor but not before it bounces off several limbs on the way down. It
sounds off the origin of its intruder. Observant hunters scan for motion
and listen close for the tiny droppings of green acorns being gnawed
away. High among the treetops is a busy tail sometimes in competition
with another squirrel with the same idea.
Here’s where more lessons are learned as the whispers from dad, grandad,
uncle or just an old friend are taught about sly movement as squirrels
possess both keen eyesight and hearing. Slipping about and choosing your
steps to get into position before taking a shot are imperative.
Sitting still and waiting. Swatting a mosquito or two that challenges
the repellant applied earlier is all part of the process. Using ears and
eyes to observe the busy tail’s whereabouts before he discovers yours.
Patience is an active ingredient in the recipe for success. It’s a
requirement for life and such lessons are learned and demonstrated in a
variety of ways, namely deep in a squirrel woods or on the shorelines of
fishing.
It is indeed a game of cat and mouse. Only this time it’s out in the
woods where a lot of distractions come into play.
Trying to outfox a sly bushy tail who has home court advantage is as
much a part of the hunt as pulling the trigger.
Hopefully the stars line up for a clear shot from a youngster who might
be taking his or her first shot on that first hunt. There’s only one
first hunt and first squirrel taken but the memories made are endless.
SQUIRREL OPENER WAS ONCE TENNESSEE TRADITION
Squirrels seem to be everywhere in town, darting across streets wherever
you go. Yet it’s just not the same as a quiet walk deep in the dark
confines of tall timber where the bushy tails bark and fumble acorns
like a freshman receiver on the football team.
Walking down the sand ditches of yesteryear I used to pride myself at
slipping up on illusive gray squirrels that were too busy cutting high
in the hickories to know I was even around. It was a bonus when a rusty
fox squirrel bounced into sight.
There’s a little bit of Lewis and Clark in all of us and I still have
dreams of finding the ridges where it looked like someone had been
running a chainsaw. The fresh chips of green acorns covering the ground
meant the scouting expedition had discovered the place to be when
daylight broke the next morning.
A morning after a heavy rain with no wind meant you could hear the bushy
brigade navigating their limber lanes to the breakfast buffet. Sometimes
you attempted to slip up on them; other times you just had to sit and
wait. Young legs yearned to roam but it was a good lesson in patience
and perseverance.
Old hunting coats pulled from hibernation deep in the garage closet with
a few forgotten shells left in pockets signaled another year had passed
quickly since the last outing. And, there was nothing like the roaring
first shot that pierced the silence and the smell of that blue Peters
paper shell from the 410-gauge double barrel.
The first shot officially opened season and told the blue jays you had
invaded their rural hideouts.
Smelling gun powder from the swollen paper shells was the Chanel Number
Five for outdoorsmen.
While I seldom ate squirrels growing up, I made sure I gave them to
someone who did and they often boasted of the delicacy when combined
with a few homemade biscuits.
The bulging game bag on my old sleeveless vest confirmed success on the
walk back out of the shaded bottoms and steep hardwood ridges. Back then
the daily limit was six and the first five weren’t nearly as challenging
as number six. Bagging the limit was a goal.
Funny how almost fifty years of memories return in vivid detail every
year about this time. I can’t remember yesterday but yesteryear is as
clear as a cold winter morning when a northeast wind slapped loose tin
on a barn’s roof.
Every few years I return to my Carroll County roots and stroll down the
path near Shiloh Church where a towering white oak yielded my first
encounter. I guess the analogy is like that first kiss; you never seemed
to forget where and when.
As the aging process hits high gear you yearn to return and, if only for
a moment in time, feel the rush of youth just once more. There aren’t
many things you can do the same way you did them 45 years ago but
squirrel hunting is one of them.
Sound nostalgic? I plead guilty.
Tomorrow morning I will be listening for distant shots across the
countryside and reminisce, wondering if a youngster is taking his Maiden
Voyage. Traveling down silent paths, avoiding dry sticks with carefully
planted steps while dodging spider webs whose presence has been revealed
by a heavy dew.
Set the alarm clock. Rise and shine. It’s squirrel hunting time in
Tennessee.
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