Monday, August 30, 2010

Memoir Monday: Squirrel Hunting With Dad.

(Hey y'all. This little thing is called Memoir Monday, and I'd be thrilled if you gave it a shot. Just jot down a story about yourself, grab my code down there, and I'll link you up to be read by all my wonderful blog buddies. The only rule? It has to be true. I am personally doing what I can to help cure your case of the Mondays. Thanks for playing along!)

So you've read the title, and you're thinking, "Did this guy EAT squirrel?" The answer is yes, yes I did. And it was good. Aside from the slight damage to a molar caused by biting down on a pellet of bird shot. And the lead poisoning that followed. 


Anyway, this story is about the time I saw my dad pull off the greatest shot in the history of the world. 

We were out hunting squirrels and weren't having a very good time of it. We didn't see any close enough to shoot, and we were starting to get antsy. I was about 13 or 14 at the time, and I was in the process of starting to think that my parents were pretty lame. Aside from that, there were the usual hormones of wanting to kill stuff, and I had just about recovered from that time I had to shoot a bird 42 times to kill it. 

We're walking along and we come across a tree that has fallen over in the woods. We weren't there when it happened, so I don't know if it made any noise or not.

Cue slow motion dream sequence. 

My dad jumped up on the tree. In doing so, he caused an understandably startled squirrel to jump up from its hiding place on the ground and make a run for the safety of a tree that was less vertically challenged. 

It never made it. 

My dad made one of the most incredibly on-a-tree pirouettes I've ever seen, lined the sights up, and fired, causing him to be pushed backwards by the kick of the gun. He landed on his butt on the ground, whereupon he and I both thought to look and see if he'd hit the squirrel. 

All we saw was a big pile of leaves, and we were both pretty disappointed, mostly because he'd pulled off an incredible falling off a log shot (gun safety be damned) and we wanted a payoff. I walked over and kicked at the pile of leaves and felt something a little more solid make contact with my foot. I rooted around a bit and pulled out a very surprised looking and very dead squirrel with a rear end full of bird shot. 

He'd pulled it off. He was a ninja squirrel shooting hero.That was the only squirrel we killed that day, but it was worth every step of hunt to see that shot. 

After that my dad was cool for another 2 weeks or so, then I'm sure I went back to thinking he was pretty lame for a while. But to this day I can see him plain as day, spinning, having the presence of mind to line the shot up, and firing, all while falling backwards. These are the crystal clear memories I'm thankful for, and I hope I never forget them.

Other Memoir Monday Posts (GO READ THEM!!)

Ed's Memoir Monday: My Pawpaw.

Madmother's Memoir Monday: The Boy Sure Can Dance.