Seven Squirrels By Tony Smith

In his right hand he was carrying his old model 12 Winchester pump shotgun and swinging from his left side was a bunch of squirrels. Me and Ernie took off running to meet him. We wanted to see the squirrels. When we got up to Dad, we asked him how many squirrels he had got. He said, "I am not going to tell you boys. You will have to count them yourself." Me and Ernie walked along beside Dad and we were trying to count the squirrels, but with every step he would take, the squirrels were swinging back and forth. We were not having much luck counting them. When we got up to the house, Dad reached down and got the squirrels off his britches' leg. He pitched them up on the porch and said; "Now boys, you can count them." So we began to count. 1,2,3,4,5,6,7. Seven squirrels.. Dad had a little stick about six inches long and as big around as a pencil. On one end it was sharpened off to a point and was sticking through each squirrel's back leg.
After we counted the squirrels, Dad reached down and pulled the stick out of their legs. Then he hollered and told Mom to bring him out two pans of water. In a few minutes she did. Me and Ernie were watching Dad sharpen his pocketknife on the whet rock. After he got his knife sharp he reached down and picked up one of the squirrels. He cut it across the back. Then he laid the knife down and with both hands, he placed the ends of his fingers in the cut that he had made on the squirrel's back. With both hands, he slowly began to pull the hide off of the squirrel.
When he had the hide off, he turned it over on its back and he cut it from its head down through its belly, to the tail. Then he reached in, pulled out the guts, and pitched them on the ground. I can remember the dogs. They would fight each other over the guts. Ernie and me liked to watch the dogs fight. To us that was fun but Dad didn’t like it. Sometimes Dad would jump in and kick the dog that was acting the most piggish. That way the other dog could have some to.
After Dad got all the squirrels skinned, he put them in a pan of water and washed them off real good. Then he put them in the other pan of water and handed them to Mom. He said, "I want them cooked for dinner." Mom took the squirrels in the kitchen and put them in a big black kettle, filled it up with water and set it on the wood cook stove to cook.
After the squirrels got tender, Mom got a bowl and put some flour and milk in it. She mixed it up. The she poured it in the kettle on top of the squirrel and began to stir. She called it "squirrel gravy" and it was good.

Good Shooting By Tony Smith

All at once a squirrel began to squack at us. Dad and Billy were looking for the squirrel but they could not see it. I can remember Dad saying to Billy in a low voice, “Billy, he seen us, that’s why he’s squacking.” About that time Billy said, “I see it Charley.’” Dad asked, “Where is he at?” Billy said, “He’s right in the top of that big Hickory tree way down yonder and I’m going to let him have it.” Dad said, “Why Billy that must be 70 or 80 yards from here. You don’t have a Chinaman’s chance of getting that squirrel.”
About that time Billy let go with a blast. Me and Dad were waiting to see if the squirrel was going to run off or not.
A few seconds went by and nothing happened. We were beginning to think the squirrel had gone down the backside of the tree, but then all at once the squirrel began to fall down out of the tree. When the squirrel hit the ground Billy turned and looked at me and Dad with a big smile. He said, “I got him,” and he handed his long gun to Dad.
Billy took off down the hollow to get his squirrel. After Billy went down the hill a ways, Dad said to me, “Tony, as far away as that squirrel was, he may have hit the ground running.” After two or three minutes had gone by, Billy found the squirrel. He held it by the back legs and lifted it over his head so me and Dad could see it. He said in a loud voice, “ Here it is, I got him.”
Billy came walking back up the hill to where me and Dad were at.
By the time he got back, he was out of breath. Dad said, “Set down for a minute or two Billy, and let me see your squirrel.” He handed the squirrel to Dad as he set down on a big rock. Dad looked at the squirrel good and said, “ I don’t see but one little drop of blood on the whole squirrel and that’s good.” He said, “Just look how fat it is.”