Forest and Stream 
Terms, $3 a Year, 10 Cts. a Copy, 
Six Months, $1.50. 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1 8 , 1911. 
VOL. LXXVII—No. 21. 
No. 127 Franklin St., New York. 
An Autumn Day in 
Squirrel Hollow 
By ROSCOE BRUMBAUGH 
I F you go equipped with a .22 caliber rifle, a 
receptive mind and a light heart, an ex¬ 
cursion into the woods after gray squirrels 
will brighten many a future day which you may 
spend, perforce, indoors. It is quite as neces¬ 
sary to have the light 
heart as to possess rifle 
and ammunition; else 
the only thing you will 
carry home is the game 
you may bag, missing 
altogether the spell of 
autumn sunshine, the 
heigh-ho call of the fall 
wind and the ineffable 
witchery of the splashes 
and flashes of color. 
Along the road lead¬ 
ing to Squirrel Hollow 
the vagabond birds are 
congregating prepara¬ 
tory to their long 
journey southward. 
From the fields comes 
the drowsy hum of a 
myriad of crickets, and 
here and there along 
the fence a red squirrel 
flips his tail at you. He 
gives you all manner of 
opportunities for shots, 
but you let them pass 
unheeded, whistling the 
while some half-forgot¬ 
ten melody. When you 
reach the woods your 
carefree attitude changes 
to one of alertness, 
making your tread as 
light and noiseless as 
possible on the carpet 
of fallen leaves. Some¬ 
where in these woods 
are wise old gray squir¬ 
rels which are hard to 
find and harder to bag. 
And yet one might be 
feeding or hiding right 
here on the first shell- 
bark hickory tree. You must be quick to de¬ 
tect any unusual swelling on a branch of a tree, 
and it requires good shooting to bring down 
the squirrel after it is seen. 
Of a sudden your attention is attracted to the 
tell-tale brush fluttering high in the tree, and 
you move cautiously around a neighboring oak 
to get a better view. In the meantime the big 
gray has made his little turn, the relative 
positions of hunted and hunter being the same 
as they were at first. So you squat down and 
try a little patience. After a few minutes’ wait. 
A BIT OF SQUIRREL HOLLOW. 
which seems hours, the little gray head peeks 
out, but is withdrawn again before you have 
time to aim. You keep your gun leveled at the 
spot ready for the next move. Few sounds break 
the quietude save the occasional scream of a 
bluejay and the faint rustle of the yellow leaves. 
A falling hickory nut startles you as though it 
were the report of a gun. Your arms grow 
tired. The sunlight dazzles your eyes. Just as 
you have about made up your mind to try other 
tactics, up bobs the little head again, you hold 
steady, and down comes the squirrel. 
From somewhere 
deeper in the woods 
comes the sound of con¬ 
stant barking; reds, per¬ 
haps. But where there 
are red squirrels, a gray 
or two will frequently 
be found. The feud be¬ 
tween the two species 
often affords the hunter 
better advantages for 
bagging his game. As 
you hurry along the 
barking is heard more 
plainly. Just ahead of 
you, on a rotting log, 
there appears a flash of 
gray. You raise your 
rifle instinctively, only 
to lower it in a moment 
later, as a leaping gray 
squirrel is too difficult 
a target for the average 
man. Up an ancient 
hickory this fellow fairly 
flies, striving, as usual, 
to keep the tree trunk 
between him and you, 
and disappears. The 
treetop is dead and no 
doubt hollow. A half- 
hour’s waiting and 
watching behind a 
clump of wild grape 
vines makes you lose in¬ 
terest in this particular 
squirrel. 
The woods seem alive 
with young red squir¬ 
rels, which keep bark¬ 
ing noisily on all sides. 
You walk slowly out 
into the open, scanning 
the various trees, when 
lo! you are dumbfounded to find that the very 
gray you were after sits munching a hickory 
nut on the topmost branch of the tree in 
which you supposed he was hiding. Probably 
because of your hurry you miss him, but you 
make up the loss barely a hundred yards distant. 
At noontime your lunch, which consists of a 
