Bushy Tail

When I was only a young lad,
Nothing quite made my heart so glad
As hunting with bows in the dells
With Father after shady tails.
An early start, the light still dim,
Squirrels to find out on a limb;
A bright sunrise could not foretell
What challenge to score bushy tail.
A tail fanned out around a tree,
Or waving above mocking me;
My father taught, in great detail,
How best to mark a bushy tail.
"If up a tree," his words hearken,
"Aim under the prey, it's barking.
Miss high or wide to no avail,
Just beneath still gets bushy tail."
"Sight the quarry slow and steady--
Loose not the arrow till ready.
A sure shot to the ground will fell
Even the slyest bushy tail."
Skinned, cleaned, and roasting on a spit
Over flames by which we would sit
Cooking squirrel, how sweet the smell,
Could not wait to eat bushy tail.