Johnny and I planned to meet in mid March to get some samples for a soil test of the dove field. If the weather wasn’t too warm, he offered to bring a few quail to set out. He had obtained a new bird dog back in August and was spending time in training, so time on birds would be great for Jip, the seven month old Brittany. The added bonus for us was the chance to shoot a few quail. Yeah they were pen raised, but at least we were hunting.
My in laws were in town that week for the big St. Patrick’s Day celebration in Savannah, so I invited my Father-in-Law, Merlin, as well as my daughter to come with us. It had been close to 20 years since I last followed a dog in the field for quail, and as we drove the 2 ½ hours to Johnny’s land, my excitement grew.
When we turned onto the dirt path leading to the tract, we scared two gobblers off the road. There’s a lot of game in the area and we’re almost guaranteed to see something with each trip. Upon arrival at the camp, Johnny was waiting and Jip was going wild ready to hunt. He had that look of a good bird dog ready to work; energized but focused. A quick change of shoes to boots, loading the guns, and we were off. Johnny led us down wind of where he placed the birds and Jip started that zigzag pattern of a good bird dog in search of game.
Suddenly, he froze 50 yards ahead of us. Watching the stiff dog, with paws raised and eyes focused, I think I froze too. I don’t know that words can describe the beauty of a point. Somehow a dog that was frantically weaving through the field suddenly stops, and every hair on his body is still. Somehow he goes from a determined expression to eyes that show a wild focus. It’s amazing.
After I regained my composure, we tried to get to the birds in time. But Jip was an impatient young pup and ran them up before we could get there. We had agreed not to shoot at anything that he ran up in an attempt to teach the dog that a reward only followed holding a point.
So we continued with Jip chasing up birds or birds flying too low for a shot without risking the dog. After a while, the dog started to tire and we took a break to both water Jip and grab some soil for the test. When we started back up, Jip was more controlled and held a good point. As I approach, the bird shot up and I quickly put it down. The nice thing about pen raised birds is they give even a poor shot like me some confidence.
Later, Jip found another single, but as I approached the quail took off low with the dog starting to follow. I waited for the bird to clear and mounted for another shot. At the very instance I was about to slap the trigger, I heard the report from Merlin’s gun. I shot in the instance afterwards and the bird fell. I’m not sure who hit the quail, maybe we both did, but Merlin let me claim the bird. That’s the thing about family and friends when you hunt. No arguments, no fights, just fun in the field.
Finally, after some 20 years, I got in the field for quail. To benefit, my daughter got to experience it as well. Her favorite part? “Watching Jip hunt for the birds.”
