Colin puts the same amount of effort into still-hunting squirrels as he would looking for a six-by-six bull in the Grand Tetons, so any squirrel that pops up in his path is likely burying its final acorn. Not ten minutes into our hunt (we had decided to walk the woods together), Colin surprised one at the base of a tree and shot immediately, but the squirrel moved as he pulled the trigger and the pattern hit its hind end. I came around the far side and saw the bushytail hiding on the other side of the tree, where Colin couldn't see it. I started backing up to give my load a chance to spread out. But the squirrel--surprisingly mobile--started to move toward a dense tangle, so I shot just above it, hoping to edge it with the pattern. Miss. Another high shot. Another miss. The squirrel was still moving toward the brush, and I hated to think that we'd leave a wounded creature in the woods, so I put the bead on its head. I did not miss.