Hannah with her first Missouri squirrel

The morning dew glistened underfoot as Grandpa, my guide for my first Kentucky squirrel hunt, and I crossed a large pasture into the woods. I was visiting for Christmas from Mississippi and was intent on getting my first fox squirrel.

We walked almost noiselessly when Grandpa suddenly halted and soundlessly pointed to my left. I followed his gaze and my heart jumped to my throat as a large fox squirrel, big as a cat, ran along the top of an old stone fence. I nodded in agreement to try to get him, clicked my safety off, and waited until he stopped on a bare limb.

As I pulled the trigger of my pump 20 gauge, there was an almost inaudible click as the gun failed to go off. With my jaw clenched tight together in disappointment and frustration, I realized I had not properly seated a shell. By this time, the wary squirrel had skittered into a nearby hole. more…