Old Man Winter has finally made an appearance and has blessed Michigan with frozen everything from toes to water pipes. The wintering birds are flocking to feeders –and, yes, mourning doves by the dozen, too – in their never-ending quest to survive. Animals have an innate response to harsh weather by feeding heavily before ominous weather fronts approach, and with that understanding and a trusty .22 caliber rimfire, I headed to the woods at dawn in search of squirrels.
In Michigan, squirrels aren’t hunted as much as they are in some of the southern states and are quite under-utilized making for little competition from other hunters in most areas. I learned early in life that the .22 rimfire was the best tool for the job – not that a shotgun won’t bring them down – but, who needs the hidden lead pellets, extra holes, extra noise, extra cost, etc.
Since then, I’ve become somewhat enamored with the .22 rimfire and have had good fortune getting even old ones to shoot extremely well. Most triggers manufactured today are crude in that they are set from the factory to pull hard. While that may make for fewer lawsuits, it makes for poor shooting.
Good triggers are a key to accuracy but many folks never realize the potential of .22s because of bad triggers. Some triggers can be massaged by qualified gunsmiths, while others such as those found on the popular Ruger 10/22 can be replaced with after-market varieties. However, using a trigger with a pull weight of less than 2 pounds is just too sensitive to be safe for anything but target shooting.
Run of the mill ammo never works for me with any level of consistency, either. The premium target ammunition from Lapua is extremely consistent and guarantees to satisfy any accuracy freak. There’s other good ammo out there, but I just stock “one size fits all” now for hunting. But, even with the expensive stuff, a single round costs mere pennies and that makes it a bargain.
Meanwhile, back in the forest, a scant crust of snow covered the ground but enough so that small game would stand out like a liberal at a Tea Party rally. High winds would help to mask the sound of any pitter-patter on the forest floor, so if any squirrels would be taken this day, I’d have to rely primarily on eyesight to alert me to their presence. The quality Nikon rimfire scope atop the stainless steel Ruger would provide the necessary assist.
It wasn’t long before the incessant chatter of red squirrels could be heard, and I really wanted to thin them out a bit. Instead, however, a plump fox squirrel presented itself and a lone bullet added one more to the Super Bowl wild game dinner. And, then another with the same result. Coupled with two already in the freezer, the winter nutcrackers would be the guests of honor at a feast fit for kings.
