Sometimes it’s about more than just bagging game
Spring 2026
By Jimmy Jacobs
My hunting partner Steve Carpenteri and I entered the woods just before sunup, fumbling our way through the dark terrain of the Paulding Forest Wildlife Management Area just west of Dallas. Picking our way through the barely visible trees, fallen logs and underbrush, we were soon planted firmly on each end of the trunk of a fallen tree.
When the eastern sky began to brighten beyond the veil of hard-woods that blanketed the area, the forest slowly came to life. Soon we heard the sounds of squirrels rustling the leaves above, along with the unmistakable rattle of nut cuttings tumbling through the leaves to the ground. Slipping from our perches, we moved off in opposite directions, picking our footfalls for stealth as we headed toward the unseen bushytails. Honing in on the commotion, I picked out a huge oak tree that seemed the center of the activity.
For the next half-hour, I watched and listened, but the squirrels had either moved on or spotted me. As I sat, I considered the possibilities of actually hitting one of the critters if I saw it, for I had come into the woods armed only with a Connecticut Valley Arms replica 1851 Navy Colt black-powder revolver.
Photo by Jimmy Jacobs
The squirrel season in the Peach State offers hunters a lot of options when it comes to hunting dates and ways of hunting. Our season this year began back on August 15 and runs through February 28. There are plenty of squirrels in the woodlands, and you should not expect to be crowded if you hunt them. You are not likely to meet many other hunters even on the most popular WMAs in the state.
Additionally, you can hunt bushy-tails with .22-caliber or smaller rim fire rifles, shotguns or any muzzle-loading rifle, shotgun or pistol. That last regulation opened the door for my nostalgic venture. This was a hunt that offered a lot of ancestral connections. To begin with, my father had grown up on tenant farms along the border of Paulding and Polk counties during the Great Depression, often hunting nearby forests for squirrels and rabbits as a boy. In fact, the family had inhabited these two counties since the end of the Civil War.
On December 17, 1862, my great-great-grandfather Nathan Jacobs joined the other farmers of Fayette County to enlist in Company G, 63rd Georgia Infantry, Confederate States Army, as a 39-year-old private. This was one of the last four infantry regiments raised in the state; from that point on, new recruits simply filled the depleted ranks of existing units. They fought around Charleston, South Carolina, later guarded Savannah, and then they joined the Army of the Tennessee at Kennesaw Mountain, staying with that command to the bitter end. The last notation about Private Jacobs was he died of shrapnel wounds in 1865.
With Nathan probably resting in an unmarked grave somewhere in the Carolinas, at the end of the war the family moved to Paulding County near where I was now hunting. As a private in battle, my ancestor probably never sported a Colt pistol like the one I was using, though officers he followed may have, as would those of the enemy he faced.
My musings on this family history were interrupted when I noticed Steve moving down the far side of the hollow, heading deeper into the woods. I followed suit along my side of the ravine, intent on finding a squirrel.
The previous evening, while filling five of the chambers in the revolver with black powder pellets and round balls and finishing off with grease patches, the anticipation of this hunt had mounted. I had left the last cham-ber empty to rest the hammer on as a safety precaution. Not until I reached the woods the next morning did I add the percussion caps to each chamber of the cylinder. Admittedly, if the opportunity availed, the .44-caliber round ball would provide a bit of overkill kill if I managed to hit a bushytail.
Photo by Steve Carpenteri
Taking up a new stand under some. hickories, it was not long before I heard the twin barking of Steve’s more conventional 20-gauge shotgun. Another 15 minutes passed, and he fired again. Still, I sat motionless, fruitlessly watching and listening.
At about 9:00 a.m., I heard an auto horn sounding back near our starting point. Traversing the hollow, I found Steve waiting at his truck with three gray squirrels, disproving my theory that he had missed on one of the two quick shots I heard early on. In fact, he had scored all three bushytails from a single hickory tree.
It was a bit of a frustrating end to my first attempt to take a squirrel with my piece of replicated history, but not really an unsatisfying adventure. The morning in the woods mirrored one of the things that is hardest for hunters to communicate to non-sportsmen. Taking some game is the object of the hunt, but it is not the sole pleasure found in the woods.
On the way back to town, there was little doubt in my mind that I would be back in the woods before long to finish off my nostalgic challenge.
Jimmy Jacobs is the editor of Georgia Outdoor Adventures, as well as being editor/publisher of On The Fly South. He also is a member of the Georgia Outdoor Writers Association. He makes his home in Marietta with his English setters, Luke and Lulu. He can be contacted at jimmyjacobs970@gmail.com.