This morning is not like any other I have ever experienced. It is really chilly and damp and there is a wispy ground fog just lying in the low spots. The old Castor River doesn't even seem to be moving. The rising sun shining through it makes it all run together like a watercolor painting.
I really don't feel all that great. I did not rest well, slept too warm and was a little nervous about spending the night with Uncle Chet and Aunt Ginny. Getting up so early and trying to eat something makes me feel like I need to throw up, but I sure can't do that! Uncle Chet hasn't been Uncle Chet long. He and Aunt Ginny just recently got married and he has already involved me in his love to hunt. I think I am a natural hunter but guess that is yet to be seen. I am starting to doubt myself already because I am so tired of walking and the mosquitoes are about to drive me crazy! They're not just biting but flying into my eyes and ears. It's impossible to just let them do that without retaliating, but I have been warned about making noise or moving around too much. One warning is all I need. I will do everything right and forget nothing Uncle Chet teaches me. He says, "don't worry so much about the bugs; when you get home you can take a shower." There may not be enough left of me to take a shower when I get home at the rate these bugs is working on me!
Uncle Chet is continuously showing me little things on the ground to watch for. What sounds to listen for, sounds that only squirrels make. How not to scare the squirrels away. It is okay if they see you but just don't make them run. This will take a lot of practice. Squirrel hunting with my new uncle Chet, what a privilege. I will have to brag to Dennis next time I see him.
(2) This morning is just a repeat of yesterday morning and so many mornings before. It is already very steamy with a ground fog that seems to cling to the dripping and too green vegetation. Vegetation whose color will change from the very vivid green that it is now to shades of yellow when the sun strikes it just right.
I feel like shit and have for several days, no several months. It is impossible to rest, really rest, as in sleep. Being clean may just be a thing of the past. To be really clean, deep down clean is like a dream. It will take much more than soap and water to get clean if I survive this.
I am very tired of walking. Walking and carrying what seems like a ton of crap. The bugs are so thick around me I think some have gotten inside my head. There is no choice but to listen through the din they make and see past the distortion that their flying before and into my eyes causes. Looking closely for unnatural movements, any movements. Listening for telltale sounds, sounds men make.
These operations really knock the wind out of you; really wear a soldier down. I don't think any of this will ever be anything to brag about, but it will be something to talk about with my dad and uncles who served in WWII.
(3) Uncle Chet has squirrel hunted for years and has learned every trick in the book. You hunt squirrels by knowing what they are feeding on. They feed on different things during the different times of the season. Find the right kind of food tree; nut trees, gums or especially a mulberry, you will get your limit every time.
Remember to be stone still and wait patiently. Strain your ears to hear the sounds they make and your eyes to see the smallest movements. Don't rush anything. Limit your own movements to your eyes, then the slow turning of the head. Let the animals come to you, "still hunt."
When you spot one, make no moves, like lifting your rifle or shotgun, until there is a tree branch or tree trunk between you and the target. When comfortable with the shot, take it.
Don't miss! An accurate second shot is usually impossible; you have lost your advantage. If you do miss, remain very still. A gunshot in a quiet wood seems to bounce all around. Your game may get disoriented and run to you instead of away from the sound. Don't get overly excited because the animal is closing on you. Make the shot count.
(4) A firebase is dropping a few rounds into an area a couple clicks south of me. It is not concentrated, so probably not on a definite target; just harassing fire I imagine. The rounds going overhead make a sound all their own, like a rapid swoosh swoosh swoosh. Outgoing rounds are music to the ears; they're comforting. Incoming rounds make the same sounds but their effect is the exact opposite!
It is time to slow down even more. Ears are important now—maybe more than the eyes. Charlie, like any animal, may be moving away from the exploding shells. That is my bet, but if not, he is digging in.
I will stop now and wait for the others to catch up. I will hold a position and still hunt. If moving and disoriented, he may be an easy kill. If dug in, I hope he is as uncomfortable as I am. If on the move, I pray I see him first and make the shot count.
(5) Uncle Chet seems satisfied he has found the right spot to find squirrels. We sit down under a big oak tree surrounded by hickories. He picks up a stick and uses it to move around a few pieces of chewed-on—"cut-on" as he calls it—hickory nut hulls lying near us. "The best sign they are feeding here. Now be very still and listen and watch."
I am not going to move a muscle and I am sure the bugs will take full advantage of this. Uncle Chet is looking hard into a dark area about middle height of a hickory tree directly in front of us. He looks at me and then back toward the tree with a nod of his head. All I can see is a dark area about middle ways up a hickory tree.
To make things worse I am starting to hurt from needing to pee so bad. I can't hold it any longer and have to break the silence. "Uncle Chet, I have to pee." He just smiles and softly tells me to go around to the backside of the tree we are under. I move as slowly as my bladder will permit; reach the backside of the tree. What a relief to let the pressure off! I've just begun when BOOM! An explosion like I have never heard before. Well maybe once when lightning struck a transformer directly across from the house. I pissed all over myself and everything around me. Uncle Chet is laughing so hard he has tears in his eyes. He had set me up!
Uncle Chet hadn't wasted a shotgun shell. A large fox squirrel lies twisted and dead in the leaves only a few yards away. The shot had broken its back and it had tried to crawl away. I really don't know what it is I feel. Maybe a little sorry but excited at the same time. I hope I get a chance to shoot one before we head in.
I will have to take a shower when I get home.
(6) My location is decent. I am on a slope in a depression so I have something against my back. The depression looks like where a large tree has been wad rooted. A real common sight back home but I don't see any trees here big enough to make such a hole should they get knocked over.
This position provides cover and some protection. My rifle's muzzle is clean, a round is chambered and seated, magazine is locked in and the second inverted magazine isn't fouled. Now be still, listen, watch and wait. I am thirsty and need to piss but it will have to wait.
Sounds to my right; running footsteps! Like a leaf-covered apparition out of the bush he is moving directly across in front of me. He doesn't see me; yes he does! His SKS is coming up and he is turning in my direction. I fire one—no, three rounds. His controlled movement ceases. As his knees buckle his arms drop straight down but do not loosen the grip on the rifle. His body leans rearward at the waist, but his upper torso bends backward a second time like it is hinged at the middle of the back. His head snaps back and face is now looking up toward the sky, eyes and mouth open. Knees hit the ground and for a second it appears he is on his knees looking up in prayer. It crosses my mind that we are all children of the same god. A fleeting thought because we are not! Better you than me, you communist son-of-a-bitch.
I will have to take a shower when I get home.

Michael I. Hobbs lives in Dexter, Missouri, and is completing a collection of essays.
(See Authors, Sweetgum Press, this site.)

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