Ok, Here's how WE did it back in the day. Dad would wake us at about 4:30 am. We'd eat breakfast, get dressed in our oversized hunting jacket and pants.("daaaad these things are too big". Dad: "you'll grow into them, just roll the sleeves up") Then load the guns and stuff into a '47 Willys and head down to Ecklands timber.(always had "millions" of squirrels)Walk in real quiet like, find a "good" tree to lean against, and wait untill sun up. Dad always brought Uncle Jimmys .22 with a scope, my brother carried a .22/.410 OU, I had a 20 GA.(yeah, I know, I was 9)We could not move or make a sound. Dad would then proceed to peer through the scope, scanning the trees. When the sun was up, he'd just start looking around and then, BANG! "ya get him dad"? dad:"yep". Then BANG! "ya get him dad"? dad: "yep". This went on for a while.Us kids wanted to run and get a squirrel every time he shot, but he wouldn't let us.("don't need you guys makin'any noise")Then it would be over. We'd go to every tree he shot into and lo and behold, a dead squirrel under each one.(sometimes we'd have to climb the tree to get one that was stuck on a limb)This may sound like pure BS but, 'ol dad NEVER missed a shot! The limit was 6 a day,each day we went, 6 shots/6 squirrels. Then we took 'em home and skinned 'em (I thought they skinned easy, easier than a catfish)gutted 'em, soaked 'em over night in a little salted water, and then ate the tasty little rascals with squirrel gravy, mashed potatos, and green beans. God, I miss those times!!
AB