Handgunning for Squirrels - How to Hunt Small Game with a Big Heart
Every hunter eventually makes a decision that seems reasonable but makes little sense. Mine is this: I’m going squirrel hunting with a handgun.
Not because it’s the easiest way; far from it. A .22 rifle, or shotgun, or maybe even a slingshot would be simpler, but easy isn’t the point for me.
I’m using Ruger’s classic Single-Six .22 Magnum, a single-action revolver with open sights.
The Ruger Single-Six in .22 Magnum turns squirrel hunting into a game of patience and precision, one deliberate shot at a time.
The Ruger also has a little story behind it. I bought it for myself for my 53rd birthday because apparently I’ve reached the age where buying myself a new revolver qualifies as responsible birthday behavior. Some guys buy a watch. Some book a trip. I bought a Single-Six, and decided to put myself through handgun bootcamp with a pint-sized, bushy-tailed drill sergeant as my DI.
The Single-Six stars in this adventure, but I’ll try other handguns too. Revolvers, semi-autos, different sights: if it makes squirrel hunting interesting, I’ll give it a shot (pun intended).
I’m taking this seriously because, first of all, the squirrel deserves it. How we hunt the smallest game sets the standard for how we hunt the largest. Overlooking the squirrel as a game animal reveals something about our priorities. If we only treat animals with antlers as worthy of preparation and respect, maybe we’re focused a little more on the glory of hunting than the craft of it.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting a big buck or a bear. I like both. But size shouldn’t determine effort. Woodsmanship, marksmanship, patience and respect shouldn’t depend on whether your quarry weighs one pound or 600. And pound for pound, I don’t know if there’s a critter in the woods more worthy of pursuit based on cunning, athletic ability and sheer heart. Nobody, and I mean nothing, works harder every day than a squirrel.
Secondly, hunting squirrels matters because wildlife management isn’t reserved for animals with antlers. The squirrel is part of the same forest, subject to the same basic principles of conservation, habitat, harvest and respect. Taking a six-ounce squirrel seriously enough to study its behavior, understand its habitat, practice for an ethical shot and turn it into food may actually say more about the craft of hunting than another set of antlers ever could.
And finally, I’m treating this as a squirrel-inspired hunting sabbatical. It’s time for a mental reset, not just with my weapon, but with everything. I have plenty of flaws in my hunting, so maybe starting over is exactly what I need. And I doubt there is a better or more thorough course than bushy-tailed basic training. I want to slow down. Pay attention. Think through every shot. Stop taking things for granted. Become a student of hunting again.
A squirrel may seem like an unlikely teacher, but I suspect that by the end of squirrel season, I’ll not only be a much better small-game hunter, but a better big-game hunter, too. Because when you have to find a squirrel, understand a squirrel, outthink a squirrel and make one precise shot on a squirrel, you quickly learn that there isn’t much room for sloppiness. Which gives a little more credibility, at least in my mind, to that old shooting adage: Aim small, miss small.
Throughout this series, I’ll approach squirrel hunting like big-game hunting: considering ammunition, accuracy, field positions, scouting, shot placement, equipment, and even squirrel recipes. I have it on good authority that Media Direct's own Kim Cahalan has one helluva squirrel potpie recipe. Most importantly, I'll learn and reflect on my own limitations. There’s no shortcut to hunting a squirrel with an open-sighted revolver. I expect to miss shots, get busted, and learn that things easy on a shooting bench are much harder in the woods.
That’s the point.
A single-action revolver is about as simple as it can get. It's also about as honest of a firearm as there can be. There's nothing to hide behind if I fail, and nothing to share the credit with when I succeed.
Every time a squirrel beats me, I’ll have to figure out why: whether I rushed, chose the wrong position, or just wasn’t good enough yet. That word, yet, is what this series is about. I’m not an expert at squirrel hunting with a handgun, but I want to become one. Squirrels are small, fast, suspicious, and unpredictable; in other words, ideal teachers. When I can learn to make responsible, precise shots on squirrels with a handgun, those lessons will carry into bigger hunts.
You’ll see the mistakes. There’s value in seeing the misses, bad ideas, and failures so I can learn, adjust, and try again. As I get my butt kicked, I hope to grow as a handgun hunter, and hope you grow with me. After all, you can’t compensate for poor shooting by taking longer shots or rushing opportunity. You have to get closer, wait for the right shot, and accept that sometimes, the squirrel wins.
There's a life lesson in there somewhere, maybe more than one.
I hope you enjoy my journey, and thanks for hunting with me this season.
