Ramblings in the Night Part III, Memories of MY Childhood

RAMBLINGS IN THE NIGHT PART III, Memories from MY Childhood

           

            Now my ramblings have no rhyme or reason to a set period of time. I will have jumped from my early childhood to my teen years and back again. If it pops into my head then and write it down until the story has played out and I move on the next story. I do try to put my age at the time of the story, that way it does give a sense of time.

            Now my Dad is a big hunter. He lived and breathed hunting, fishing, and sports when I was growing up. Nothing wrong with that. I enjoy to hunt and fish as well. I even like some sports. Now Dad is what I like to call a steel hunter. Meaning that he only likes to hunt with a gun or bow, NO dogs. Now I like both. Certain animals I like to hunt with a gun or bow only. Then other animals I love to use dogs. I raised feist dogs to squirrel hunt with.

            I got my first gun at the age of 4 years. It was a Christmas present. I got a 410 shotgun. I spent the first part of the morning learning gun safety from my Dad, Grandpa, and various Uncles. So after Christmas lunch I was ready to learn to shoot the 410. I spent the afternoon practicing until I was pretty good. Now my Dad and Grandpa would tell you that they spent a small fortune keeping me in shotgun shell.  LOL. Which is probably true. But the more I practiced the better I got. So when I was old enough to hunt on my own, I was proficient in how to handle the weapon and I knew gun safety.

            Now the story I am about to tell you is a true story, it really happened. I know it did because I was there and I was the one that it happened to. Picture it. It was the Fall and hunting season was in full swing. My Dad said that we would go squirrel hunting after work the next afternoon. It was on a Thursday, I do remember that. So the minute I got out of school and made it to the house, I changed out of my school clothes and put on some hunting clothes.  Now my Grandma Ruby had made me a hunting vest. It had big pockets built into the inside and in the back. Now I had those pocket stuffed with bread bags. Yes, that is right, bread bags. You will understand later in the story what empty bread bags are used for.

            Now when Dad got home I was ready and biting at the bit to get going. I am a shotgun man through and through when it comes to squirrel hunting. I love the sound the shotgun makes when you pull the trigger. But now this particular day. I was low on shotgun shells, and we didn’t have time to go purchase more. So Dad talked me in to taking my 22 rifle with me as well. Dad was nice enough to carry the 22 while I was carrying my shotgun. I only had like 8 or 9 shotgun shells.

            Now we headed up to the head of Atoah. I grew up in the Atoah Community. The head of Atoah was 5 or 6 miles away from the house. We drove to the top of the mountain, up an old gravel road. Parked off to the side of the road. It started walking. Now we was perfect squirrel hunting weather. And we were not even out of sight of the truck and I had already shot and killed 6 squirrels. The squirrels were thick as thieves up on the mountain and the mash was plentiful. Within the first 30 minutes I had used up all my shotgun shells and was now hunting with the 22. Now 22 rifles are ok, I love a shotgun. Within the first hour I had killed nearly 20 squirrels and the evening was setting in. So we decided to head back to the truck. On the trip back I ended up killing another 5 squirrels. Now my Dad was off the side of the mountain picking up 2 squirrels I had killed making my count 24 squirrels.

            I was looking around for another squirrel when not 10 feet from me squirrel number 25 came down a tree right in front of me. I took aim and fired and hit the squirrel. It dropped like a sack of taters. So I assumed it was dead. I even poked it with the 22 rifle. Now hear is where the story takes a turn for the worse. I reached down to pick up that squirrel to put it in a bread bag, so I could put it one of the inside pockets of my vest so I could carry it to the truck.

            Well I grabbed that squirrel by the tail and hoisted up to put in the bag. When that thing come alive and latched onto my thumb. There was split second pause, where it took my brain time to register that something was causing my thumb major pain. Let me tell you I started screaming, cussing, and jumping up and down. If you had of saw me you would have thought you were looking at a crazy man. I was swinging my arm trying to get that squirrel loose and to let go of my finger. I looked around for anything I could get my hands on to help me. This squirrel was killing me. I finally saw a twin tree. That is where two trees grow together and become one and make a V shape. I ran my hand between them and started beating that squirrel between those trees til it finally let go and died.

            My Dad who was off the side of the mountain. Heard me screaming and hollering came a running back up the mountain two dead squirrels in his hands to find me stomping that squirrel and cussing like a sailor. As I look back it is a wonder Dad didn’t whoop me. I was saying some very nasty things. Dad looked at what was left of my thumb. Bandaged me up, and said I would have to go to the doctor the following day. Just to make sure that the squirrel hadn’t given me rabies. If it had, Dr. Johnson told me it would require 14 shots in the stomach. Something I was not looking forward to. Lucky for me, squirrel in NC don’t carry rabies.

            I did get my revenge on that squirrel. I made sure that Mom cooked him real good in a stewing and I ate him..LOL.

I will end here this evening.  Until next time.. Written 23FEB2016