Airgun forums, Facebook groups and even our own Airgun Extra podcast have been asking one important question over the last few months: “Where have all the squirrels gone?”
At first, I thought the lack of the invasive grey rodents on my woodland permissions was down to me and my awesome abilities as a pest controller. I was deluding myself, of course, because before too long other shooters up and down the country also reported fewer squirrels.
Theories as to why this should be abounded. Even Mat and I had a go; on an Airgun Extra podcast we thought last year’s cold, wet and windy winter might have killed many squirrels off. But there were other points of view, some of them wackier than others.
Some felt that we, as a community of pest controllers, had finally turned the table on the destructive grey invader. Others hypothesised that an increase in certain birds of prey was the cause, or was it pesticides? Or perhaps global warming?
However, it turns out there wasn’t a lack of grey squirrels at all. There were just as many as before, but they simply weren’t interested in our peanuts.
No, instead they were gorging themselves on an abundance of natural food which was the result of a mast year – a natural phenomenon in which trees and other plants are triggered to produce a glut of nuts, seeds and fruit.
Mast years occur every five to ten years; possibly triggered by prolonged hot and dry weather and are believed by many to be nature’s way of ensuring healthy tree and plant life populations. By producing more seeds than can be eaten by wild animals, a good proportion are more likely to take root.
Not that the squirrels mind. For them, autumn 2025 was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Faced with a smorgasbord of tasty grub, the peanuts in our feeders haven’t held quite the same allure. At one point my trail cameras had been so quiet I thought the batteries had run out.
On my woodland permissions, the beech mast fell early and in huge quantity. And when the beech mast was over it was the turn of the acorns, huge crops of which also fell earlier and lasted longer.
Below: A mast year saw the woodland floor carpeted with beechmast, acorns and other natural food that kept grey squirrels away from the peanut feeders
But, as the saying goes, all good things come to an end and even though thousands of acorns still carpet the woods I shoot over, they are starting to lose their nutritional value and, all of a sudden, the trail camera has come back to life – triggered by squirrelly activity.
The temptation to grab a rifle and race down to one of my hides was hard to resist. But I managed it and waited until the cameras showed a regular stream of traffic which, if a little lighter than I’d expect at this time of the year, showed the squirrels were indeed back.
These woods are big – 86 hectares or 212 acres to be exact – and I shoot them on a sector-by-sector basis; moving the feeders and hides once squirrel returns start to fall, peanuts linger in the feeders and trail camera footage slows down.
The only problem was that I’d moved the feeders in the spring and, because of the mast year, hadn’t been back to shoot them as the estate team keeps them topped up. All this is my way of explaining that I couldn’t find the feeder I wanted to shoot.
I wandered around the woods for nearly an hour wishing I’d had the hindsight to take a What 3 Words reference. Eventually, though, I stumbled across a feeder, not the one I was looking for, but it would do.
The hide had been knocked about, which was to be expected. However, the huge gash in the roof was not. But it was a pleasant enough day, and I’d brought my beanbag, so I dropped it at the foot of a large tree and settled in, taking the time to don my head net and cursing because I’d forgotten my gloves.
I knew the feeder had plenty of peanuts in as one of the estate workers had topped it up only a few days before so, with my .177 calibre Daystate Blackwolf secure in the tripod, all I had to do was sit back and wait.
Below: Rich was soon back out with his Daystate Blackwolf as the squirrels returned to his peanut feeders
My last few visits some months earlier had been fruitless and all too soon memories of sitting and staring at a squirrel-less feeder came back to haunt me. I started to fidget and recognised the signs in myself that I knew would soon result in me leaving early in a huff.
In truth, I’d only been sat under the tree for 20 minutes, so I gave myself a good talking to and sat back, determined to wait it out and ignore my aching back.
One of the joys of being still in the woods, especially at this time of year, is that your senses get turned up to 11. Every falling leaf, flitting bird and piece of wind-blown woodland debris caught my eye. I was relaxed but alert at the same time.
For the umpteenth time I was alerted to a flash of movement, this time from 20 metres behind and to the left of the feeder in a pile of dead wood. Instinctively, I resisted the urge to swivel my head for a better look and simply moved my eyes instead.
Sure enough, a squirrel was poking around in the leaf litter, looking for something tasty. My hand was already resting on the Blackwolf’s pistol grip and, without taking my eyes off the squirrel, I flicked the safety catch off, wincing slightly at the muted “click”.
The squirrel was preoccupied looking for its late breakfast and ignored the slight noise. I was alert to the possibility that Nutkin would ignore my feeder full of peanuts in its search, no doubt, for an acorn it had buried. As a result, I shuffled slightly, ready to move the tripod if a shot presented itself away from the feeder. I had the Blackwolf zeroed at 20 metres and knew from time on the range it would be laser accurate at twice that distance with a mildot of holdover if needed.
However, the squirrel’s search was fruitless, or nut-less, and it scurried a little closer to the feeder tree. I shifted position once again and breathed a sigh of relief when it shinned up the branch ramp to help itself to a peanut.
I tracked the squirrel through my MTC Viper Connect scope as it twitched about, sniffing the peanuts, then sitting still only to move again just as I was about to touch the trigger. Then at last it selected a peanut and sat on its haunches facing directly at me to nibble it.
One final breath and I left the shot go. The pellet zipped across the 20 metres to the squirrel and struck it between the eyes. Although the rifle is whisper-quiet, the impact of the pellet made a hollow “thwok” which caused a hitherto unseen woodpigeon to burst into the air.
The squirrel slumped, then toppled forward off the feeder. It lay on the ground for a few seconds before twitching as its nervous system shut down. At last, the kicks from its legs slowed and the grey trespasser lay still.
Below: A long drought comes to an end as Rich finally takes aim at a peanut-gobbling grey squirrel
I’ve shot hundreds of squirrels from the woods, but after so long of seeing hardly any, this one was a relief as it meant I was back in business.
Cycling the Blackwolf’s sidelever, I settled back, hoping that one squirrel wasn’t a lone ranger. Thankfully it wasn’t and I was able to add another three over the next few hours.
As I packed up, my glass resumed its half-empty state. Four squirrels was OK, but I’d put in plenty of hours to get them; last year my average return was 10 per trip with a best of 23. Of course, having shot so many meant there were fewer in the woods, but still, I could only have scratched the 212-acre surface.
With this disquieting thought in my head, I put my gear back in the truck and headed off down the track. I’d been going no more than five minutes when my phone pinged with a trail camera alert. When I checked it was another squirrel on the feeder I’d just left. And then another “ping” and another squirrel on one of the other feeders.
It’s going to be a busy winter.
RIFLE: Daystate Blackwolf (.177 sub-12ft/lb)
SCOPE: MTC Optics King Cobra 4-16x50 F2
JACKET: Jack Pyke Sherpa Fleece Pullover
TRIPOD: Rekon CT-1 Tripod
Article first published December 9th 2025
