Seven Squirrels

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. Then she poured it in the kettle on top of the squirrel and began to stir. She called it “squirrel gravy” and it was good.Seven Squirels Quiz 1. What is the limit for squirrels per day?________
2. What are the names of the boys in the story?
3. Why was it hard to count the squirrels at first?__________________________
4. How did Dad hold the squirrels?
5. Who got the guts of the squirels? ______________
6. Tell the way Tony’s Mom cooked the squirels and how they tasted .___________________________________________

The Hellacious Loggers

The Hellacious Loggers

Art and Tony were buddies living in Rockcastle County Kentucky in the late 1970’s. Art was in his sixties while Tony was about eighteen years old.

After Art and me had talked for a while, I asked, was he planning to “try out his shotgun when squirrel season come in?” Art said, “Well Tony, I wanted to but where I generally do my squirrel hunting, the hellacious loggers has went in and cut down all the trees. Where once there was big Hickory nut trees and acorn trees now is just briar thickets. Tony the loggers has destroyed the forest. Why they are cutting down trees that ain’t no bigger than a broom handle. There ain’t going to be nothing left for the squirrels to eat.”Then he went on to say that he hated what the loggers were doing to the forest. He said, “There ought to be a law against logging the way they are doing it nowadays. Tony two or three loggers can walk into the woods with chainsaws and create an eyesore for everyone to have to look at. Why they do that just for the all mighty dollar. Tony I absolutely hate what loggers has done to the forest.” Then Art stopped talking.I don’t believe I ever heard Art talk so long about the same thing before. I could almost see fire in his eyes as he talked about what the loggers were doing to the trees. After he had stopped talking I said, “Art I agree with you, but Art we have a lot of kin folks that is loggers you know.”Art looked across the table at me and said, “I know that Tony, but they’s a right way to do anything and there’s a wrong way to do anything. And Tony I know deep down in my heart that clear cutting timber is wrong.” Then he went on to say that loggers used to go in the woods and pick out the very best logs and get them out and then they would leave all the little trees alone and let them grow but now they are taking it all.
From The Butcher Knife by Tony Smith Livingston ,Kentucky
Copyright 2004

Blame Your Sorry Hides!

"Blame Your Sorry Hides" By Tony SmithIt was hot that day. Dad’s old black and tan dogs were laying on the porch like something dead, but when Mom opened the kitchen door to pitch out scraps, the dogs would take off like a bullet to go see what she had pitched out for them. Sometimes them dogs would fight over the scraps. Me and Ernie liked to see the dogs fight but Dad would not let them fight. He would kick them and make them stop. He talked bad to them. I remember when they would fight; Dad kicked them until they stopped.Then he would look at them and say, “Sport and Hank, here you all is good hunting buddies and fighting one another over a piece of cornbread. You all ourt to be ashamed of yourselves. Blame your sorry hides anyhow.”Do you know them dogs would stand and listen, looking up at him with them big brown eyes and their long ears hanging down? It was like they knew what he was saying to them. In a little bit they would just walk off and lay down somewhere. Just before it got dark them dogs would come to life. They would be running around all over the place. Nothing moved, what they did not know about it. If any kind of varmint got around the chicken house it was dead meat. Them dogs had no mercy on coons, fox, opossums or any other animal

Good Shooting

Good Shooting

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.”