We buried the man who taught me how to hunt and skin a squirrel today. He built us our first Hunting Lodge, an 8x10 enclosed treehouse 30 feet up in a Hickory tree. As young kids, we started the Squirrel Tail Hunt Club in that Lodge where we later hid our first Playboys and hung our first centerfolds on it's wall next to the many squirrel tails hung there before. The man did not care about hunting himself but never missed the opportunity to take us boys out to chase a squirrel or a rabbit because he knew we loved it so. He showed us how to skin a squirrel, but more importantly he taught us that the squirrel had value. If we were going to kill them, we were not going to waste them. So we cleaned them, ate them, and sold the tails to the Mepps Fishing Lure company. At an age when we were all about the kill, he taught us that what you did after the kill was every bit as important as what it took to make the kill. Vaya con Dios Lee.
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