The last time I went hunting squirrels I did it up right. I put on my old ghillie suit, used a camo screen instead of facepaint and had my .22 bolt action. I picked a spot where I could sit on a fallen log with my back against a tree. I sat and waited, enjoying the crisp air and the sounds and smells of the woodlands.
As I sat, I heard a flock of turkeys on the ground, approaching. Turkey flocks on the ground are amazingly noisy. It was not turkey season or I’d have bagged a big Tom, so I decided to have some fun. They approached, not seeing me. I waited until they were about ten yards away when I stood up, pulled the screen away from my face, waved my arms and shouted “BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA!”
You shoulda’ seen it. They tried to go in all possible directions. Some flew off and I could see and hear them smacking trees, falling then getting up to run. Wild turkeys are amazingly damage resilient. The rest ran off at all points of the compass besides at me. I sat back down and laughed like the Joker for about 5 minutes.
About an hour later I bagged three squirrels in a tree together. They were out on very thin branches and could move quickly enough. I field dressed them and put them in my pouch then walked back to the truck, laughing all the way.
My cousin complained she hadn’t had any squirrel gravy for years and asked if I’make some. I skinned the tree rats and went to her place and I made squirrel gravy and mashed sweet potatoes. We feasted. All I took home was a small Tupper container of gravy over the taters. I left her the rest.