Stalking Squirrels With a .410

Stalking Squirrels With a .410

- Hal Sullivan

Mist drizzled down from the gray underbelly of the low clouds rolling across the sky. But the musty leaves on the forest floor gave off an enticing aroma, and even with my eyes closed I could tell it was early fall.

It sure felt good to be back in the woods hunting squirrels.

The first gray popped out of the underbrush and then paused halfway up the side of a paw-paw tree. I pointed my .410 shotgun at its middle, swung up, and when the head disappeared beneath the barrel I touched off a load. The squirrel fell dead, less than 30 feet away.

I hunted this same patch of woods with an iron-sighted rifle. But my eyesight is not what it used to be, and bifocal glasses made that hard to do. I still enjoy squirrels on the dinner table, however, and with my little shotgun, I can usually bag a limit.

I snuck off to my next spot 50 yards away, near the edge of a drainage east of the house. This rocky land has never been cleared, and some of the towering beech trees are more than 100 years old. Up in the tops of those trees I could see squirrels scampering well out of range of my .410 shotgun.

With 20- and 12-gauge shotguns back in the gun closet, why was I packing the pipsqueak .410? The first reason was to keep some sport in the game. You have to get pretty close to bag a squirrel with a .410. That’s why it is a poor choice for beginners who lack patience or skill. My eyesight may not be what it once was, but I like to think my patience and skill are still improving. I am content to quietly wait and watch the squirrels in the tops of those beech trees—until one of them screws up.

I knew a place where a tangle of grape vines connected one of those massive beech trees with a short buckeye tree, and the shorter tree was bare as buckeyes are first to lose their leaves. A stand of maple sprouts underneath the buckeye still held their leaves, and that’s where I hid.