A winter’s woods walk with my rifle
By Dave Bates
For the Observer-Reporter
It had been a long stretch of cold weather, some of the coldest we’ve experienced in years. I was, by my own admission, getting a little punchy, trapped inside for the third or fourth week in a row. As the snow began to melt just a bit, I found it necessary to don my quiet garb (favorite chamois pants, fleece pullover, comfy lace-up boots and my old wool Stormy Kromer cap). This is my sneak-around-the-woods outfit.
I pulled the Remington Custom 541 .22 down from the rack and stuffed a dozen of my trusty subsonic rounds and headed out the back door for some squirrel hunting. I will say, to call this squirrel hunting is a stretch. What I was really attempting to do was blow off a little stink.
The minute I ventured outside, I knew this was going to end up as an excuse for a long walk rather than a true squirrel hunt. I hadn’t been out of doors much lately and was not feeling abundantly patient. I headed for the steepest uphill grade telling myself that if I could just get up on top, then I could slow down and let myself cool off. I worked up a pretty good lather en route to the top of the incline. Making my way as slowly and quietly as I could, I realized I was moving twice as fast as I should have been. When I came to one of my deer stands I thought it best to climb up in and sit a spell. After 20 minutes of nothing moving, I had at least allowed my heart rate to return to near normal. Seeing no squirrels, I moved on around the ridge. Still hunting for another half hour or so I climbed a second of my ladder stands and repeated the effort. More nothing. As I made my way around the horn, which is what we refer to as walking the outer limits of our hunting grounds, I began to see the woods in a different light, both literally and figuratively.
Figuratively speaking, I was not really hunting so much as clearing my head. More or less taking my rifle for a walk. Nothing wrong with that. It was good to be outside. It was good to feel the sun on my face. It was good to take my time and not be in a hurry for any particular reason.
In a more literal sense, I encountered a squirrel or two but found (see made up) several reasons not to shoot. The shot wasn’t quite right and I didn’t want to shoot in the direction of the neighbor’s house. The first squirrel looked a bit young, the second a bit too long in the tooth. He would have probably been a tough old boy to eat for supper. If I’d have seen a third victim, I’m sure he’d have been Goldilocks – just right. But, alas, I did not run into him or his clan. I don’t particularly enjoy cleaning squirrels and if I am to clean a mess of squirrels, then I want enough of a meal to warrant bloodying my hands. Suffice to say, I had more excuses in my bag than squirrels this fine afternoon.
As I eased about the woods I found myself bumping a couple of deer here, a single there. Several times, purely from reflex, I shouldered my squirrel rifle and centered up the shot just for practice, just to see if I could have taken the old girl as she erupted from her bed. Once or twice I’d have been spot on. A time or two, a step slow. Either way it made it feel more like hunting.
As the late afternoon light softened I felt my body relax into my surroundings. I became aware of the myriad tangles of trails converging here, dividing there. It was crystal clear where the bedding areas lay. I discovered several shelves where a single deer or a pair had spent time, lazing about the afternoon and soaking up the sun. Food sources and scratchings were evident. Several times I came upon familiar territory only to discover a veritable highway system of deer tracks and travels in the snow. I have been in this woods scads of times, but over the last few seasons have begun to figure the lay of the land, the travel corridors used most often by its whitetail inhabitants and the accompanying escape routes that lay adjacent. On this day it was like holding a magnifying glass to the topography. Everything shone a little more vividly in my lens. It was truly a day of revelation.
I have known for years that scouting after the leaves are down can be much more profitable. I have always recognized that snow on the landscape adds yet another filter of view. But this day was one of those truly unique gifts and I was aware enough to really glean some great scouting from the afternoon afoot.
About a half mile from the hard top, I unloaded my rifle, just in case some unsuspecting squirrel charged from the underbrush, ensuring I’d have absolutely no chance of scoring. I pointed myself in the direction of the cemetery, my favorite place to finish out the day, and headed for home, most contentedly, for simply having taken a walk.
Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.com