Squirrel Hunting

I fell asleep for the bulk of the afternoon after writing the last passage. I woke to Sam's easy voice, excited, "I got one, I got a squirrel cornered!"

I awoke instantly as if I had been waiting, responded automatically with a nod and an "alright, stew," and found myself climbing out of bed, throwing a shirt on, and heading out the door before I realized I was awake. Sam was still talking, but my sluggishness was setting in, and I wasn't listening, his lips were off synch to his voice. I stepped into the sunlight and began to feel excited ad we walked toward Sam's cabin. A squirrel! Good mountain man eating. We had been talking of squirrel stew for some time since our groceries weren't due for another ten days, and we were running low on supplies.

"...walked in, and he ran right into the bathroom, but he was just looking at me like this," Sam's low twang peaked and broke in. It sounded as if he had just begun talking, mid sentence, out of the blue, but as I looked over at him, as he was making a squirrel peeking gesture with both hands, I could tell he was knee deep in the discovery story, and I had just pulled focus. "Fat Sunufabitch," he continued, and I felt a smile sprout and grow on my face, chiming in periodically with nods and affirmations until we reached the cabin.

We met Dave outside the cabin and filed in slowly. Dave was all smiles too. Sam opened the bathroom door to a startled rustling, but we saw nothing. I looked around the cabin for a weapon, something hard and blunt. Sam and Dave followed suit. I was in mid-grasp for an old broom in the corner, Sam had grabbed a piece of wood from the box next to the cast-iron stove, and Dave, who had his eyes fixed on the hole where the squirrel had shown itself, was reaching blindly for another broom in the corner nearby. We moved slowly, in unison, toward the bathroom when I caught sight of him. "You're right he is a fat pig," I said, laughing silently, looking at Sam, who's eyes were fixed on the rodent.

It was fat for a ground squirrel, with an unusually large humped back, offsetting its small head, and scared beady eyes set deeply in its skull. I was caught up in a thought of what it would be like to be trapped in a completely foreign place by three giants laughing down at you, when the critter made a dash right toward me, darting away from my foot at the last second, and made for the space between the cabin wall and the counter. Caught off guard, I attempted to sweep him, instead of whomping him. Dave, who was furthest away made a noise and pointed, while Sam moved quickly and fluidly toward the crack, hunkering down to striking position right as the squirrel disappeared behind the counter.

When the squirrel was out of sight the laughter exploded. I can't remember who started it, but by the time we were through I was leaning on my broom to keep me up. Sam had sat down cross-legged next to the crack, and drawn his buck knife holding it in one hand and the piece of wood in the other poised to strike. He turned and shot a toothy grin at me which made me double over again laughing uncontrollably, with Sam and Dave joining in.

When we had settled to a chuckle the rodent popped his head out and WHOMP! Sam's log grazed its tail as he turned face and flew back into his hideout with a squeak. After one closer encounter with Sam's log the Squirrel was wary, and we stepped outside for a while to laugh, and give the rodent time to forget the near death experiences. Soon enough we heard its fat body rustling around and looked through the screen door, and saw him planted in the middle of the floor. Luckily, we had shut the bathroom door, because when he saw us coming he made straight for it, saw it was closed, and ran back to the crack only to see Sam's body blocking the entrance. Pinned, he turned toward me, and with a twitch of my broom I sent him running to Dave, who had grabbed a log for himself, and with a dull thud of wood on bone. The squirrel fell without a sound. Its back leg was still twitching, thumping again and again against the floor. A dying muscle reflex, not conscious. The second blow came fast striking its head square. A black pool of blood formed under its body, spreading out, and a glaze fell over its eyes as we laughed a rich maniac laugh.

Dave cleaned up, and Sam and I took the dead body out to the creek to clean and gut it. I watched as Sam slid the blade into the stomach and watched as the insides poured out onto the healthy green grass. Sam broke each of his leg bones and slid the skin off, handing me the still warm carcass. I picked up the guts and carried them over to the edge of the woods, throwing them from camp as not to attract animals. Then I walked back to the creek to wash the feces from my hand that had run from the intestines. Sam washed his knife and we took the skinned carcass to Dave who had a plastic bag handy. We filled the bag with water and stuck it in the freezer. It was facing us, looking out through the murky water.