I’m sitting serene.
Dim light shows between
The last leaves to fall
Beside oaks so tall.
My fingers are numb while clenching my gun;
Eyes alert for bushy-tails unseen.

My ears best my eyes
As they recognize
Some teeth as they munch,
Confirming my hunch:
A squirrel’s breakfast fed
Right over my head!
Skyward limbs I scan and scrutinize.

He’s perched on a knot 
That’s blocking my shot.
I fancy a scheme
Ingenious and keen….
Covertly inside
My pocket I slide
Bloodless fingers seeking what I brought.

A handle of bone,
Blade sharpened by stone.
A trapper by race,
Handcrafted by Case.
Though risking its loss 
I give it a toss
Crashing into leaves; not overthrown!

Surprised, with a lurch
My prey flees his perch
And stops, holding tight
To a branch in plain sight!
The shot is a breeze;
Dispatching with ease.
Leaving just my knife for me to search.