Pennsylvania Game News - October 2016 - 63

Golden Anniversary
To celebrate this golden anniversary of the column's launch, Gone for the Day will
appear in Game News throughout 2016. In order to accommodate the column, some of the
magazine's content might appear only online. This month, however, all columns appear
in the magazine and online. We hope you enjoy them, and the return of Gone for the Day.

and an entire, flawless day at my disposal. As I expected, the big oaks I had
seen from the road were alive with squirrels, and the first three came easy, even
with backing up my shots with plenty of
wood. The fourth and fifth were tougher,
as I was then in an open area where they
could see me coming long before I was
within range. I finally squeaked number
five into the open and collected him with
a hollow-point through the head, the long
range making it the best shot of the day.
I never did get number six, the one I
needed to limit out. I saw at least a dozen
candidates feeding high in the treetops,
but had no luck in getting a safe, sure
shot. The one easy shot I could have had
was provided by a large gray that popped
up on a fallen log less than fifty feet away.
A few minutes earlier I had decided to
call it a day, so I had to ease the gunsling
off my shoulder, slide a clip out of my
pocket and into the gun, close the bolt,
slip off the safe, slowly bring the rifle to
my shoulder, and lay the sights on his
head. All this the squirrel watched me
do, then bolted an instant before I could
squeeze the trigger!
October 26: Where they came from
is a mystery, but a flock of twenty-three
wild turkeys showed up in one of my
favorite stamping grounds last week. I
saw them again today, feeding across a
distant strip of zigzag fields that divide
OCTOBER 2016

the woodlands for a mile or more. They
were wild birds in every sense. I was a
good three hundred yards away, but when
I tried to get closer for a photo every
head went up and all activity stopped
for at least a minute. Then, one by one,
they resumed feeding. But I couldn't
get closer. Each time I moved, a couple
of heads shot up, and in a matter of
seconds the entire flock was focused in
my direction.
Tiring of the annoyance, they filed
into the forest. I hurried through two
fields and was lucky enough to head them
off. From the dense brush I watched them
come into sight, round backs gleaming
in the patchy sunlight as they scratched
noisily in the leaves. They were all hens
and young gobblers. One tom that passed
within thirty yards sported a stubby tuft
of a beard, but that was the best one I saw.
Long after the racket of their scratching had died away I heard what sounded
like a young tom calling from the wooded
bottom across the fields. Apparently he
was lost, and didn't like it one bit, for
his scratchy yelps rose to a crescendo of
loneliness and fright. He followed the
run, a course that was gradually taking
him away from the flock, but just when I
thought he'd never find his companions
again there came an answering "Kyow,
kyow, kyow." I'm sure we both felt
better.
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Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Pennsylvania Game News - October 2016
