LETTER TO AN OLD FRIEND
Dear Glenn,
I thought you would be interested that this letter to the editor published in the Arlington Sun yesterday, 1/23/96. It was in response to an article, "Squirrels Go Nuts," by Stephen Henn. He was interviewing Alonso Abugattas, naturalist at the wildlife park on Military Road, Arlington, VA, near Glebe Road. The gist of the article was the problem with too many squirrels in Arlington. Alonso Abugattas stated, "There was not enough meat and that what was there was to tough to eat." (School lunch ladies take note.) "There is no solution for the squirrel over population. They are out of the woodwork county wide," Alonso said.
I wrote in response to the article:
Dear Editor:
I was a student at Washington and Lee High School (W&L) from 1945 to 1947. I used to hunt squirrels in the woods behind Art Brown's house on Military Road near Glebe Road or the woods along the Potomac at Lee Highway and Kirkwood Road before school during hunting season. I would ride my single speed, Speed King bicycle with big tires from my home at 1519 N. Garfield Street to the woods. I often arrived at W&L with squirrels and a rifle over my shoulder. Stephen and others may ask, What did a high school student do with a rifle in school? Simple, put it in your locker until you carried it out after school on your shoulder.
I would take the squirrels, gutted, skinned, and cleaned to the school cafeteria. Most times the school lunch ladies would take them home to cook, but if there were no takers, I would pick them up after school out of the refrigerator.
Our naturalist, Alonso Abugattas does not seem to realize that Virginia's squirrel stew can have more than one squirrel. My recipe calls for one per person. If every one in Arlington and Fairfax would eat their fair share, we would not have squirrels "Out of the woodwork." Maryland fried squirrel "is finger licking good" and tender too. (Squirrles taste nothing like chicken!)
Those days we had the Ten Commandments posted on the schoolroom walls, prayer in school and the pledge of allegiance to our flag. The biggest problems were gum chewing, spitballs, note passing, and talking out of turn.
We seem to have lost innocence.
End of letter.
Yesterday afternoon I was awakened from my daily nap by a sweet little older person (female type) who asked if I were Mr. Jack? I said I was Jack Rupert. She lit into me with both feet incased in Army Boots With Steel Toes and Hobnails. She said, "You must be retired with nothing to do but write stupid letters to newspapers?" I said, "It was my first ever letter to a paper." That was the last time I got a chance to talk. How dare I suggest that everyone in Arlington and Fairfax should eat her furry friends? What did I mean by fair share out of the woodwork? "I SPEND LOTS OF MONEY ON SQUIRREL FOOD AND THEY ARE MY FRIENDS!" About that time I was wide-awake and said, "Thank you very much for calling" and hung up the phone. She was a really smoking, a hot to trot old lady, and by not giving her the fight she was looking for, I'm sure I inflicted the most damage. She must have been a retired old lady with nothing to do but feed stupid squirrels.
Tonight after dinner I got another call. Ran Winter in Arlington invited me to go squirrel hunting in his woods of 1,500 acres, just outside Fredericksburg, VA. Mrs. Winter read my letter to the editor and told him to call me and go hunting for squirrels. It had been too long since they had squirrel stew. She would not let Ran go hunting alone.
What a life we live?
Call me when you return.
Jack
(Art Brown was a famous radio personality and lived four or five houses due north of the Wildlife Park on Military Road. The park displaced my hunting woods of long ago.)
Ten years later.
We did go hunting for squirrels a few days later. What a trip that turned out to be! It was the next to last day of the season in Virginia. Ran was a deer hunter and Mrs. Winter was tired of deer meat and wanted squirrel stew. He was 64 years old and worked as a bus and truck mechanic but could take a day off for hunting whenever he wished. He had gotten to be one of those indispensable people, and the bosses were afraid he might retire. They gave him complete freedom to come and go whenever he wished.
Ran's Dodge truck was a hunting truck, first class. It was the model tuck with the big rams head on the hood. I felt secure behind those big horns once we hit I 95. The body was held together with wire, duct tape and Bondo. What was left of the paint was dark blue with a white top. It was in perfect mechanical condition. For that I was grateful.
Ran was a chain smoker of cork tipped filtered cigarettes. Every ashtray was filled to overflowing with the overflow on the carpet-less floor. He had several open packs on the dashboard in easy reach. Ran was a 5'7", 135 pounds of wire and muscle of a man. (No Bondo or duct tape on Ran.)
We arrived at a gate off an old logger road. The combination was, 30.06. I liked that combination for a hunting club. Old hunters need an easily remembered combination and the caliber of rifles most of them used to hunt deer was perfect. The woods were cutover about 8 to 10 years earlier and not replanted. What grew was scrub growth. I didn't see a tree tall enough for a squirrel to build a nest. Ran said we would have to walk over a hill to get to unlogged woods.
We loaded our rifles and packed our lunches and drinks. He packed a few packs of cigarettes. Whenever I go into the woods, I always take a compass. I took a bearing with the compass on the road and our leadoff direction. Noted which side the sun was on my body and we were off for the big squirrel hunt going southwest. Ran said he knew exactly where we had to go because he hunted these woods for years. Squirrels were always barking at him while deer hunting. We meandered but mostly kept going southwest during our trek to the woods.
We didn't find the woods nor did we hear a squirrel bark. I was beginning to think Ran was lost or the uncut wood didn't exist? He decided we should go back to the truck and call the day not successful. I agreed.
Off we went back to the truck? I didn't think so. We had been going mostly southwest for three hours and to continue with the sun in our face at that time of day, meant he was lost. After a few minutes on the return, I stopped him for a conference call. I got out the compass and we took a bearing. After much conversation he had to admit I was right. I said, "Keep the sun on our backs and go." Each time we crossed back through a patch of easily remembered unusual landscape, I'd say, "I remember this going the other way do you?" He'd answer, "Yeah."
When we got to the road, we could see the truck to our left. That was when we heard a squirrel barking at us from way down hill in one of the only trees still standing from the clear cut of years past. I wondered if that might be the uncut woods he referred too? Those one or two trees?
Now I knew for sure why Mrs. Winter wouldn't let Ran go hunting alone.
I thought you would be interested that this letter to the editor published in the Arlington Sun yesterday, 1/23/96. It was in response to an article, "Squirrels Go Nuts," by Stephen Henn. He was interviewing Alonso Abugattas, naturalist at the wildlife park on Military Road, Arlington, VA, near Glebe Road. The gist of the article was the problem with too many squirrels in Arlington. Alonso Abugattas stated, "There was not enough meat and that what was there was to tough to eat." (School lunch ladies take note.) "There is no solution for the squirrel over population. They are out of the woodwork county wide," Alonso said.
I wrote in response to the article:
Dear Editor:
I was a student at Washington and Lee High School (W&L) from 1945 to 1947. I used to hunt squirrels in the woods behind Art Brown's house on Military Road near Glebe Road or the woods along the Potomac at Lee Highway and Kirkwood Road before school during hunting season. I would ride my single speed, Speed King bicycle with big tires from my home at 1519 N. Garfield Street to the woods. I often arrived at W&L with squirrels and a rifle over my shoulder. Stephen and others may ask, What did a high school student do with a rifle in school? Simple, put it in your locker until you carried it out after school on your shoulder.
I would take the squirrels, gutted, skinned, and cleaned to the school cafeteria. Most times the school lunch ladies would take them home to cook, but if there were no takers, I would pick them up after school out of the refrigerator.
Our naturalist, Alonso Abugattas does not seem to realize that Virginia's squirrel stew can have more than one squirrel. My recipe calls for one per person. If every one in Arlington and Fairfax would eat their fair share, we would not have squirrels "Out of the woodwork." Maryland fried squirrel "is finger licking good" and tender too. (Squirrles taste nothing like chicken!)
Those days we had the Ten Commandments posted on the schoolroom walls, prayer in school and the pledge of allegiance to our flag. The biggest problems were gum chewing, spitballs, note passing, and talking out of turn.
We seem to have lost innocence.
End of letter.
Yesterday afternoon I was awakened from my daily nap by a sweet little older person (female type) who asked if I were Mr. Jack? I said I was Jack Rupert. She lit into me with both feet incased in Army Boots With Steel Toes and Hobnails. She said, "You must be retired with nothing to do but write stupid letters to newspapers?" I said, "It was my first ever letter to a paper." That was the last time I got a chance to talk. How dare I suggest that everyone in Arlington and Fairfax should eat her furry friends? What did I mean by fair share out of the woodwork? "I SPEND LOTS OF MONEY ON SQUIRREL FOOD AND THEY ARE MY FRIENDS!" About that time I was wide-awake and said, "Thank you very much for calling" and hung up the phone. She was a really smoking, a hot to trot old lady, and by not giving her the fight she was looking for, I'm sure I inflicted the most damage. She must have been a retired old lady with nothing to do but feed stupid squirrels.
Tonight after dinner I got another call. Ran Winter in Arlington invited me to go squirrel hunting in his woods of 1,500 acres, just outside Fredericksburg, VA. Mrs. Winter read my letter to the editor and told him to call me and go hunting for squirrels. It had been too long since they had squirrel stew. She would not let Ran go hunting alone.
What a life we live?
Call me when you return.
Jack
(Art Brown was a famous radio personality and lived four or five houses due north of the Wildlife Park on Military Road. The park displaced my hunting woods of long ago.)
Ten years later.
We did go hunting for squirrels a few days later. What a trip that turned out to be! It was the next to last day of the season in Virginia. Ran was a deer hunter and Mrs. Winter was tired of deer meat and wanted squirrel stew. He was 64 years old and worked as a bus and truck mechanic but could take a day off for hunting whenever he wished. He had gotten to be one of those indispensable people, and the bosses were afraid he might retire. They gave him complete freedom to come and go whenever he wished.
Ran's Dodge truck was a hunting truck, first class. It was the model tuck with the big rams head on the hood. I felt secure behind those big horns once we hit I 95. The body was held together with wire, duct tape and Bondo. What was left of the paint was dark blue with a white top. It was in perfect mechanical condition. For that I was grateful.
Ran was a chain smoker of cork tipped filtered cigarettes. Every ashtray was filled to overflowing with the overflow on the carpet-less floor. He had several open packs on the dashboard in easy reach. Ran was a 5'7", 135 pounds of wire and muscle of a man. (No Bondo or duct tape on Ran.)
We arrived at a gate off an old logger road. The combination was, 30.06. I liked that combination for a hunting club. Old hunters need an easily remembered combination and the caliber of rifles most of them used to hunt deer was perfect. The woods were cutover about 8 to 10 years earlier and not replanted. What grew was scrub growth. I didn't see a tree tall enough for a squirrel to build a nest. Ran said we would have to walk over a hill to get to unlogged woods.
We loaded our rifles and packed our lunches and drinks. He packed a few packs of cigarettes. Whenever I go into the woods, I always take a compass. I took a bearing with the compass on the road and our leadoff direction. Noted which side the sun was on my body and we were off for the big squirrel hunt going southwest. Ran said he knew exactly where we had to go because he hunted these woods for years. Squirrels were always barking at him while deer hunting. We meandered but mostly kept going southwest during our trek to the woods.
We didn't find the woods nor did we hear a squirrel bark. I was beginning to think Ran was lost or the uncut wood didn't exist? He decided we should go back to the truck and call the day not successful. I agreed.
Off we went back to the truck? I didn't think so. We had been going mostly southwest for three hours and to continue with the sun in our face at that time of day, meant he was lost. After a few minutes on the return, I stopped him for a conference call. I got out the compass and we took a bearing. After much conversation he had to admit I was right. I said, "Keep the sun on our backs and go." Each time we crossed back through a patch of easily remembered unusual landscape, I'd say, "I remember this going the other way do you?" He'd answer, "Yeah."
When we got to the road, we could see the truck to our left. That was when we heard a squirrel barking at us from way down hill in one of the only trees still standing from the clear cut of years past. I wondered if that might be the uncut woods he referred too? Those one or two trees?
Now I knew for sure why Mrs. Winter wouldn't let Ran go hunting alone.
posted by JackSML | 10:45 PM
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