Memories from the Woods

There’s something about the sound of a dog treeing in the dark or the crack of a rifle on a crisp morning that sticks with you long after the season ends. It’s not just the hunts you remember, but the people beside you and the moments in between. As this past squirrel and coon season came to a close, I found myself thinking less about the numbers and more about the memories we made along the way.

Life has been a little crazy lately. We took in a foster daughter, and while it’s been a lot, it’s also given me a chance to slow down and reflect on this past season and what a great one it truly was.

I coon hunted less this year than I have in the past fifteen years, but I made up for it in the squirrel woods. Most of my hunts were either by myself or with my two boys, though I did get to spend some time hunting with friends. There are a few hunts that really stand out.

We made our annual Thanksgiving hunt again this year. Normally, we go on Thanksgiving morning, but this time we had to adjust and go the day after. The boys and I loaded up Sunny and Libby and headed over to my uncle’s house, where we met up with two of my cousins. This hunt is one I look forward to every year. Over the years, we’ve hunted with dogs and without, but the one constant has always been family, getting together and enjoying the outdoors. Sunny ended up treeing two squirrels that morning, and we were able to knock them out.

In the middle of December, Robby Toney and I took our third annual camping trip to the Mississippi Delta. We stayed three nights this year and had an absolute blast. We camped in Sunflower Wildlife Management Area and spent three straight days doing nothing but coon and squirrel hunting. We treed some big red and black squirrels, the first black squirrels I’ve ever harvested. SOC looked really good in the coon woods, making eight trees and showing us six coons. It was a great trip and always feels like a breath of fresh air, just getting away and enjoying what God has blessed us with.

One of the more memorable hunts was with my friend Lance. We left his house at 3 a.m. and went to cut the dogs loose. His cur dog, Reezen, struck first and treed about 250 yards from us in a big pine tree, but we couldn’t find anything. Sunny and SOC worked a track for over half a mile, sounding good the whole way, and finally got treed. We made the long walk in, thankfully finding a road part of the way, but when we got there, they were treed on a little bush with nothing in it. All I could do was stand there and laugh at that pitiful slick tree. By the time we got back to the truck, it was almost daylight, so we switched gears and went squirrel hunting. Reezen really shined, and we knocked five out to him. Sunny made some solid trees too, even if we couldn’t find the squirrels.

February was a fun month for us. We made a couple of hunts with some good friends. The first was with Jace. The boys and I drove down to Tylertown and spent the afternoon with him and his daughter. We started with a squirrel hunt, treeing two and knocking out one. A lot of that hunt was spent waiting on Hayze and Henry. They had apparently found some “dragons” to ride and were having the time of their lives. After the hunt, we went to the fish house and enjoyed a great meal with Jace’s family. It’s a blessing to have friends who treat you like family. Later, we loaded up for a coon hunt. The wind was howling, and you couldn’t hear the dogs past 100 yards. We turned loose SOC and Preacher, and they ended up split treeing, both with circle trees. Even with the tough conditions, it was a great hunt, one we look forward to every year.

Our last big hunt of the season was one the boys and I made over at Chris Walters’s place. We went squirrel hunting with him and his son at their hunting club, and it turned out to be the best hunt of the year. Sunny looked better than I’ve ever seen her in the squirrel woods. We knocked seven out to her. Afterward, we headed back to Chris’s house, skinned squirrels, and enjoyed some pizza together.

Looking back, the common thread in all of these hunts isn’t just the dogs or the game, it’s the people. I want my boys to understand that. Year after year, I hope to instill in them the responsibility that comes with owning hounds. It’s not just about the harvest. It’s about early mornings, long walks, laughter in the woods, and the kind of friendships that don’t come easy anywhere else.

Some of my closest friendships have been built behind a dog on a cold night or a crisp morning. These are the kind of men you can count on, the kind who would drop everything if you needed them. That kind of bond is rare, and it’s something I don’t take for granted.

One day, the seasons will change. The hunts may slow down, and the woods may get a little quieter. But I hope the lessons stick. I hope my boys remember the sound of a good dog working a track, the excitement of a tree, and the feeling of standing side by side with people who mean something to you.

Because in the end, it was never just about the hunt, it was about the life built around it.