When I was just a lad, we would leave early for  the hardwood bottoms, grandpa and I.Before the light of the morning's dawn would begin to lighten the sky, He would let me carry the old remington single shot 22 and even give me a bullet once I'd located a bushy tail high in the canopy. As the forrest and the sorrounding swamp would come alive with the approach of morning and the anticipation of the mornings' hunt welled up in my soul it was all I could do too sit there and not explode from the exicitement. I can remember the gentle wisp of  breath that would slide past grandpa's raised index finger as he turned to see my face, in all of its exicitement , shhhh.. he would say ever so gently and as silently as he could while pointing upward toward the approaching Bushy tail. Keen eye ,had that old man,wasn't much that ever got by him in the woods. When he was assured that I had seen the squirrel, His hand would reach deep into his overall pocket and with the slightest of movement he would hand me a bullet. It was up to me now all the coaching and all the practice back at the house place out behind the hog shed was about to be tested right hear right now. PaPa always said that a squirrel shot in the head never ran away. He was more than passionate about his squirrel hunting and wasting meat with a failed shot was not by far his cup of tea.
I drew down on the little critter with the care and intensity of a true marksman, placed that bead right where I'd been told to place it and squeezed the trigger. The silence was broken by a hushed but joyous attaboy Jimmy, now lets get another one.
 Always when grandpa and I hunted I'd notice small tins attached to the oaks and the hickory nut trees as we moved silently through the undergrowth. When finally I asked grandpa what these curious cups, from what I could tell, were that always seemed to be in or near the trees we found the most squirrels. Salt,  just a little, salt can make the difference between a great bushy tail hunt and a poor one. He went on to explain that even as the mash crop was depleted in one area of timber they would always return for the salt. I can remember folowing that special old character through many a woods trail placing salt and picking up accorns to plant along our way. Grand pa is gone now but his legacy lives on in myself and my children we feed and care for all the wildlife both where we hunt and where we just walk through the woods from time to time. To this day I always keep a sawtooth and a white oak accorn in my pocket when I'm hunting because you never know where you just might find an open spot that needs a beautiful tree. Thanks Grandpa.......