To set the stage; My son, Mac, and I went squirrel hunting (cough, cough) one fine Saturday morning with my brother-in-law Tommy, his two sons Chris and Josh, Chris' son Hunter, and Josh's two sons Joshua and Caleb. The younger boys are ages 6 and less (Mac is 12). The odds were definitely in the squirrels favor.

We rode the three wheelers back to the woods we were hunting, near a flowing ditch, and dismounted. The younger boys were in playful spirits. We turned Frito loose and he immediately ran away along the ditch with purpose. We followed behind as quietly as a group like this could. Soon Frito was baying up a tree. We all went to investigate.

If there was something up the tree, a small scraggly thing with no leaves and few branches, it wasn't there when we arrived. But Frito was insistent so we dutifully searched the tree but found nothing. We began to move off but Frito wouldn't leave, he kept running back to that tree. Finally Tommy tied him to a tree not far away. We set off again with Frito baying in true coon dog fashion. It took a while but Frito finally quieted down.

We did manage to shoot one obviously deaf and dumb squirrel but as luck would have it it hung in the tree and we couldn't get it down. As responsible hunters we do not believe in just killing something and leave it. If you shoot it, you eat it. We tried all we could think of but it was not to be. Oh well.

We had a nice romp through the woods. It really was an enjoyable time, really, it was. Men with their sons bonding as only men would understand. Hunters passing down the art and heritage of their trade to their young like a cheetah and her cubs, only we're not as fast. But like a cheetah we don't climb trees that well after we grow up either....I forget where I was going with this, there was a point to this but you'll just have to figure it out for yourself as I need to move on with the story.

After our trek through the outdoors we returned to the trucks. I had brought a skeet thrower and three boxes of farm raised skeet. I got the farm raised ones since the wild ones are so rare. (In case you don't know I'm being funny, skeet are just clay discs.) Off we went to the fields to hone our shooting skills. You never know, one day we might actually run across some squirrels in the woods and we may get a shot. I had three boxes of skeet (270 total) and just as many 12 gauge shells.

We had a great time, mostly laughing at each other as we missed our targets. After we ran out of shells we had thrown just over two boxes of skeet. Since the field had a thick layer of grass on it the missed skeet were in tact so we began to pick them up. We picked up almost a full box of skeet. I know this sounds like a lot but do note that many of them were wounded. Some had holes in them were a lone pellet had passed through it. Did I mention my gun is old and doesn't shoot all that well? Not that I'm making excuses mind you.

It was a great day and I can't wait to do it again. Here's a few photos:

Me and Mac

Me and Mac (again)

Tommy, Joshua, Hunter, Caleb

More pics are in the photo gallery.