Into the Squirrel Woods

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dawn in the squirrel woods
Photo by Hank Shaw

I have a thing about squirrel hunting. It affects me in a way no other hunting does. I dearly love my duck hunting, chasing pheasants can be thrilling, and the pursuit of deer, elk and antelope is always an adventure. But I did not grow up in a marsh. Or on the Great Plains. Or high in the mountains, where elk roam. I grew up in the East, where the Great Forest once stretched for a thousand miles, from the Atlantic to the prairie. The old forest was where I came to know the outdoors, and it is where my heart remains.

The woods were my home long before I picked up a gun. As a boy, I learned to walk quietly in them by setting one foot down slowly and then shifting my weight to that foot before I took another step. If I move slowly enough, I can remain silent even in a dry autumn forest. I used to do this to sneak up on my friends, or to get close to deer in the Watchung Mountains of New Jersey. Two decades later, it was in a Minnesota woods where I crept close to a gray squirrel before shooting it stone dead from the limb of a black walnut tree — my first kill as a hunter.

Make no mistake: If you have not hunted squirrels in a real forest you do not understand squirrels. Country squirrels are as different from city squirrels as are Daniel Boone and Perez Hilton. The only things they share are genus and species. Country squirrels are animals all out of proportion to their size: They are clever, stealthy and tough to kill, especially when the leaves are still on the trees.

Such it was when my friend Joe and I walked into the squirrel woods recently in Parkman, Ohio, not far from Cleveland. The fading leaves of autumn hide squirrels from danger, from hawks above and people below. All those leaves and twigs will deflect bullets just enough to turn a clean kill into a mess. So Joe and I armed ourselves with shotguns, Joe with his pretty little 28-gauge side-by-side, me with Tinkerbelle, my trusty 20-gauge over-under.

We split up to cover different sections of the woods. It did not take long to figure out that there were squirrels around. I hadn’t walked 100 yards before I saw a squirrel nest in the crotch of a tree. Then another. And another.

A squirrel nest.
Photo by Hank Shaw

I slowed down. Thankfully the woods were wet from several days’ worth of rain, which made it easier to move without sound. All around me were the sounds of woodpeckers ticking, the northern flicker’s hawklike screech, a multitude of tiny peeps and clicks from white sparrows and kinglets, the irked chirping of wrens. Occasionally crows cawed to each other, their topic of conversation unknown. Behind it all, I could hear the distinct chipping of squirrels.

Leaning against a maple tree — this was a woodlot owned by a maple syrup-selling friend of Joe’s — I saw why this was such a good squirrel spot. Yes, squirrels do like the little helicopter seeds thrown by maples, but all around me stood soaring tulip poplars, with birch trees and sassafras beneath them, all ringed by oaks and beech trees. Dotted among these were mature shagbark hickory trees.

Shagback hickory
Photo by Hank Shaw

Maple, oak, beech, hickory. A smorgasbord for nut-eating squirrels.

A rustle. Close. In the fallen leaves. I swiveled my eyes right and saw a rusty gray shape on the forest floor, not 30 yards away. Squirrel! In a flash my shotgun barked and the first squirrel of the day fell dead.

A fallen squirrel
Photo by Hank Shaw

Squirrel hunting is all about noise. Whoever makes the most loses. This squirrel let me know where he was, and lost. It was the only unwary squirrel I met that day.

If you are not familiar with squirrel species, this one is a fox squirrel. Larger than the typical Eastern gray squirrel, and not quite so smart, the fox squirrel is the second largest species I’ve encountered in North America; the largest is the very wary Western gray squirrel, which live here in California’s Sierrra Nevada. Joe said to look out not only for fox and gray squirrels, but also for an unusual subspecies of the gray squirrel that has black fur. I’d seen black squirrels before in Toronto and Washington DC, but had never shot one.

I put the dead squirrel in my coat and moved on. Things would be different now. The forest knew I was here. I moved on quickly to another part of the woods, looking for more nests and larger, older trees. Hunting squirrels is very much like hunting deer: The hunt is a constant push-pull between the urge to stay quiet and hidden and the desire to cover ground, to see if the next stretch of woods is where you really ought to be. I’d never been to these woods before, so I moved as quietly and as quickly as I could to see what it had to offer. Soon I found a spot to make a stand.

Looking up into the trees
Photo by Hank Shaw

Several nests in sight, I sat down with my back to an old oak and kept my eye on a stand of hickory trees. After a few minutes, the forest forgot about me and went about its business. A few minutes more and I could hear rustling again, this time in the canopy. Another squirrel. I stayed as motionless as I could, moving my eyes to follow the squirrel as it wandered around the treetops above me.

Slowly it descended enough for me to click the safety off my shotgun. It scampered down the trunk of a maple, in the open. I put the bead on its head and fired. The woods thundered as the shot echoed through it. The squirrel, far from falling dead on the leaves, looked merely alarmed and bolted back into the canopy. What the hell just happened?

I stood up and paced out the distance to where the squirrel had been standing. It was more than 50 yards. Sigh. I probably annoyed that squirrel more than injured him. Squirrels, unlike rabbits and deer, have a thick hide. So thick that when Joe and I cleaned our catch at the end of the day, more than two dozen shotgun pellets clinked onto the table, falling harmlessly from the squirrels’ hides. Tough rodents.

My spot blown, I walked on, looking for another. But I soon got into a younger stretch of woods, where I knew there wouldn’t be too many squirrels.

A classic spot for squirrels, a dense stand of hardwoods
Photo by Hank Shaw

I wandered around for another hour before deciding that my previous spot was in fact my best chance for another bushytail. I was right. I settled back under the old oak and waited. The morning began to warm, and I nodded off a little. A rustle. Then another. I opened my eyes, half expecting to see the squirrel eating acorns right in front of me. No such luck. He was up in the trees.

This time he was a lot closer. I could see clearly it was another fox squirrel: large, with a ruddy chest. He was heading for the stand of hickory trees. I waited this time, waited until the squirrel silhouetted himself on the hickory’s trunk. This time when I shot the squirrel fell dead. Finally I had a brace of squirrels, enough for Holly and I to have a squirrel dinner.

I was happy with two squirrels, and happier that Joe had shot two himself, giving us four. But it had taken us hours to do that, and we were hungry. So we left, had lunch, and contemplated watching football for the rest of the day. As we cleaned our four squirrels, we reconsidered. “Maybe we should give it another go,” I said. After all, I don’t get to hunt squirrels very often. Joe agreed, and decided that we should go to another piece of land nearby with older trees. This turned out to be decisive.

I shot the first squirrel as we were walking into the woods. “Hey Joe, do you see what I see? Is that a…” Just then it moved. Definitely a squirrel. At 15 yards, no less. Stupid mistake on his part. BANG! And just like that, I had my third squirrel of the day. Halfway to my limit. Once we got settled, the woods became a Shangri-la for us. Squirrels were everywhere. I’d never seen so many outside of a park; the carpet of acorns, hickory nuts and beech mast probably had something to do with it.

The result of a good day squirrel hunting
Photo by Hank Shaw

An hour later, both Joe and I had our limit of six squirrels apiece. I’d managed to shoot all fox squirrels, but Joe had tagged a gray and a black squirrel. A bonanza!

I was as happy as a kid on Christmas morning. I love eating squirrels every bit as much as I love hunting them, and Joe was nice enough to let me take home all twelve; after all, these woods were two minutes from his house. On the long drive home last week, my head swam with ideas about squirrel and dumplings, squirrel pot pie, braised squirrel. I also knew I’d finally be able to make a couple dishes I’d been thinking about for more than a year: A Hmong squirrel stew (the Hmong, a group of immigrants from Southeast Asia, love to hunt and eat squirrel), and a special, Russian-inspired dish I’ll tell you more about later.

But most of all I was happy to be back in the woods again. My woods. As much as I love the High Sierra and the boreal forest of northern Minnesota — both are magical places — I feel like an outsider there, an adventurer from afar. Only in the East, where I know the names of every bird and plant, recognize intimately the sounds they make and the shapes they take, do I feel truly, deeply, at home.

 

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About Hank Shaw

Hey there. Welcome to Hunter Angler Gardener Cook, the internet’s largest source of recipes and know-how for wild foods. I am a chef, author, and yes, hunter, angler, gardener, forager and cook. Follow me on Instagram and on Facebook.

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37 Comments

  1. I started my hunting career hunting squirrels. I still love squirrel hunting, but I don’t get to go as often as I’d like. These days, with the large whitetail deer population, a lot of beginning hunters never start by hunting squirrels and instead go straight to deer. I think that’s a shame; squirrel hunting let’s one build and refine the skills that will make one a good deer hunter later on. Oh, and squirrels are pretty darn tasty. Here in VA we’ve got gray squirrels, fox squirrels and red squirrels. The grays are pretty much everywhere, while the fox squirrels are mostly in the western part of the state (I don’t know anyone who hunts the much smaller red squirrels).

  2. We don’t have gray squirrels in my part of the woods but we do have little reds. Two of the little beasts have Squirrel Olympics in the attic, driving the herding dog crazy. They’re small but I’m going to try them as soon as I catch them away from the house where I can shoot.

  3. As a New South Welshman I spent my younger years sneaking about in the Eucalypt Woodlands of our central tablelands. With a shotgun in hand I’d stalk through the blackberry hoping to bust a bunny.

    I still get out there occasionally with my old side-by-side hammer gun, a .410 and like you, I feel 14 again. I know every kink in the creek, the ponds where the black duck will flush and the fallen trees I still have to clamber over. Not a care in the world, shooting a rabbit really was all that mattered.

  4. Hank- great post. I do hope you post those recipes for squirrel! I just shot 4 the other day here in PA. I use a .22 with subsonic ammo so the gun isn’t so loud. They’re destined for a pot pie made on top of the woodstove.

  5. Love the first photo! It looks like a painting! What fabulous light! Just Beautiful! Happy to see Twitter up and running again! Interesting post too on squirrel hunting. Did they make that warning chatter sound when you were there?

  6. Hey Hank, your picture of the young woods reminds me of a day when my son was around 8 or 9 and he and I were passing through a scope of young woods and saw a fox squirrel jumping from tree to tree and all of a sudden we heard this crashing noise and apparently the sight of us made the squirrel mis-time his jump and he hit the ground with a splat and Travis and I laughed all the way to where we were headed. Such fun. He’s grown now but reminds me about that day when we go hunting.

  7. As much as I enjoy watching their antics in the suburbs, when I see how fat they are in winter, fed on our gardens and expensive pet store birdseed, I do consider squirrel pot pie as a return on my feed investment…

  8. I’m trying to figure out how to make tires out of squirrel hides. I don’t think they’d ever wear out. I swear they are kevlar belted!

  9. Thank you for bringing back fond memories of crisp, sunny fall days hunting with my dad in the foothills of the Adirondacks more than 50 years ago!

  10. I enjoy squirrel hunting both by stalking them in the woods and using dogs. Two completely different experiences though! My father-in-law, his dog, and I were able to get the limit (16) in a couple of hours the last time we went.
    We have black fox squirrels here in the south delta of MS but I have never bagged one.

  11. Can’t wait to read about the dishes you make. I have a rat terrier who I think would love to go squirrel hunting, but I’ve never been, so I continue to hesitate.

  12. This is a banner year for squirrel in Ohio, I hope you had the pleasure of sauteing the brains with eggs. This is my favorite part of the squirrel to eat and it makes a great lunch or dinner when you get home that evening.

    Also the heart and liver are great eating, I prefer to marinate them with a good vinegar and oil add some salt and pepper and eat raw on crackers with cheese. An apetizer fit for a King.

  13. I also love eating squirrels as much as I love hunting them.
    My Grandmother made the best squirrel pot pie, so simple yet so good!
    Trying to match it, sure brings back lots of great memories!

    You’re so right about country squirrels being so different than city squirrels. Totally different animals. It’s amazing how smart and elusive gray squirrels can be, especially if there’s just a hint of possible danger. Funny how they can keep the tree between you and them even if you stand at the bottom of the tree and move around it rapidly.

    We see black gray squirrels here in PA (Tioga County) some, but they are, of course, very rare.

  14. I’m a novice hunter, and we’re in the thick of squirrel season here in PA. I haven’t had a chance to go out this season, but a quick question: do you dress your squirrels in the field, or just bag them up and dress them at home? I’d worry about the meat getting warm in a bag near my body, however chilly it is out here.

    In any case, I’m looking forward to going out soon. Last year, my second year of hunting, I took my first shot at an animal: a squirrel, at about 40 yards with my 22. Not a lot compares to the feeling I got as I spotted him, got him in my sights, and fired. Missed his head by about an inch—lucky squirrel.

  15. You’ll be happy to know that the last time I was up in the Watchung woods, walking my sister’s dog last spring, we ran into lots of squirrels and a whole family of wild turkeys, too. No peacocks any more, but the turkeys were better anyway.

  16. Reading about those woods brought back some memories of mine in the Eastern Sierra’s, which is where I grew up. Great article, Hank.

  17. I’ve wondered if/when you would do a post on these critters. As much as I’ve ventured into hunting, I’ve never attempted a squirrel before…mostly because I don’t know anyone that’d eat one with me 🙂 That and Sierra squirrels are a bit scrawny…maybe I’ll venture out to Spenceville or Putah Creek.

    Thanks for this little glimpse!