Grouse Hollow Journal: Grouse Hollow Journal for October 9, 2014 by Greg Koelker

Grouse Hollow Journal for October 9, 2014 by Greg Koelker

This past Sunday Ellen's family celebrated the umpteenth anniversary of the Squirrel Picnic. When I first attended back in the early '70's, it was held at what was called Hauk's Campgrounds down in hollow south of Cassville. There was a shelter and some horse shoe pits and a creek for the kids to play in and by. Since then the picnic moved up the ridge to her brother Dick's pole shed and then to Barb and Chuck's pole shed and now in their back yard and into the basement man cave of their new home. With all the talk of violence in sports lately, it is worth mentioning that the Squirrel Picnic football game was often pretty violent, drawing blood and heated arguments about “holding” or “off sides” on a number of occasions. I remember a particularly bad incident - that comes up in the guys' memories every picnic - when brother-in- law Dave Junk and cousin Steve Uppena had a nasty crash into a barbed wire topped woven wire fence. All I can say is that they lived to tell about it and Dave hung on to the ball. I know that I missed work on at least five Mondays after Squirrel Picnic football games in the 70's and 80's, mostly due back injuries. Cousin Steve Pluemer played quarterback in his stocking feet back then. On this day, he and I and brother-in-law Dave Fure joined in the touch football game with the young uns and a few 20 something nephews. I am proud to say that I can still hold with the best of them. For some years, we played volleyball, but this year the grid iron was. Ellen's Uncle Jerome “Peck” Hauk also attended. He is 97 and drove himself down to Potosi from Fennimore! He has been to a great many Squirrel Picnics in his time and lots of memories to share. This year, he sat with his nieces and nephews in the basement going over old newspaper clippings and pictures, telling the stories of the people in them. Peck recently went to Washington, DC on the Freedom Honor Flight out of Madison. He wasn't going to go as he has been all over Washington, but he said it was awesome. A real experience that made him feel the (well deserved) appreciation we have for our vets. Like other years, the girls out did themselves, and we had a meal fit for rednecks and royalty complete casseroles, venison wraps, dips and chips, bar-b-cue beans, squash, apple pies, apple pie bars (to die for), brownies, Ellen's Reeses stuffed cookies . . . I could go on, but I have to leave room for the squirrel.

Chuck woke me up at early-thirty on Sunday morning and we took out coffee cups down to Burton and brother Bill Hauk's garage where the cooking oil was already getting hot in Bill's big fryer. Brother-in-law Dave Fure, was dredging squirrel parts in a secret mixture (that I think is mostly seasoned Fry Magic). Chuck cut up some red onions and I told jokes. Bill started putting squirrel pieces in the hot oil and took up a tongs to help turn them and grab out the browned ones. Someone place a roaster pan next to us and Dave and I began putting a layer of almost crisp on the outside tree rat pieces followed by a layer of onions and another secret mix that includes cream of mushroom soup. When the forty plus bush tails were all brown and covered in the roaster, they were sent to bake at 350 for a couple hours and than simmer at 200 until dinner time. Jesse Sahr, Bill's brother-in-law and one of the Burton Deer Hunters, showed up with his family. He said he hadn't slept all night. He arrowed a large buck the night before and backed off of tracking until this morning. When the squirrel was finished, he and Bill and Dave and Jesse's wife Hillary went to find the buck near the Bench where Ellen and I go on opening morning - curses.

Anyway, Chuck had a plan. Ellen was helping Barb with chores when we got back to their place, so he and I did our part by staying out of their way by going fishing down on the Grant River. I have to say I have rarely wished I had a camera handy more than I did that morning. We drove down in a hollow surrounded by steadily blooming fall colors accented with frost and a slowly rising fog. Chuck turned off the gravel onto a farm road and we bounced along until he turned into some tall nettles and horse weeds and parked by the Grant. He gave me a pole with jig and twister tail and a bag of more twisters, and we trudged along a pretty well worn path that he said he had beaten down while fishing for small mouths. At the river, we casted and reeled to no avail but the sunrise was, what can I say? Breath taking does it I guess. The river came around a bend to my left, carrying fall leaves. It broke over some riffles to my right, sparking and flashing from sun beams just starting to cut through a low hanging mist, until the river split around an island. I could see my breath and there was not a sound except for the water. I drew in some long breaths of cold, clean, sweet air that may only be found on streams at this time of the day. We tried a couple of spots, but it didn't matter to me. Just being there made me grateful to Chuck and Ma Nature.

Until next time, get out - bow hunters remember that there is a youth gun deer hunt this next week and blaze orange may be required by hunters in some areas. Speaking of hunting, Hillary found Jesse's buck, a massive 12-pointer with split G2's down in a corn row. Jesse's grin could have blinded the cheshire cat I think. I almost forget to mention the squirrel. The aroma coming from the steaming roaster at dinner was almost enough in itself. The meat fell off the bone into the gravy. I took an entire plate of just that to begin with - several others did too - of course, I had plate of desserts first. We all know there is nothing we can do about the impending winter, but we all can be grateful for October and all it entails. Enjoy.