This past Saturday was the opening day of fall squirrel season in Kentucky. I still remember my first squirrel hunt, do you? I was six years old and my dad was waking me up to go with him. I didn’t slept much the night before, because I was so excited about going into the woods.
Dad never spoke but once and my feet were on the floor and I was on my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth and put on my new green outfit my parents bought me a few days earlier. Mom had washed it, even before I wore it. I remember in those days that clothes were dried outside and always smelled so fresh. Those days are long gone. I haven’t seen clothes drying on a line in many years.
From the bathroom, I went to the kitchen, where mom had gravy, bacon, sausage, fresh eggs — the big brown eggs — and homemade biscuits, catheads at that, and homemade jam. She had also made us a little lunch in case we got hungry before we got home, although I don’t remember a hunt that went past 11 a.m.
I hope you made a memory with some child Saturday morning by taking him or her hunting, or that you will do so before the season ends on November 8. You see, that little story I just told you happened to me 66 years ago and is as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. I was thrilled on that day to be in Mr. James Thomas’s hollow at sunup to watch the night creatures go to bed and the day creatures wake up.
I remember the thrill, and it still a thrill. If that thrill ever leaves me I will stop hunting.