Why We Hunt

The traffic to work is killing me, and the long hours at work tire me out, but still I can’t sleep.  If my son keeps jumping through the house, or my wife tells me one more time about bruise on her foot ….

I’m going hunting

To see what’s in the field

To get away from this

And ignore this

To spend some time with friends and Family

To see some of this

And this

And maybe a little of this

And this

Why we hunt.

Where's the Covey

Over the weekend, Johnny took us out to hunt a few birds released the week before and then to the wild coveys nearby.  Most of the hunting on his land is over released quail until the wild quail catch up with all the habitat work he's been doing.  So this was indeed a treat.

As we approached a great looking haunt, the dog started to get active.  And then it happened.  But just one bird rose.  We searched and searched for the covey, but with no success.  We figured they were busted up by something else before we got there.  So we headed back to camp and would try this covey again in the morning.

In the morning the dog froze as soon as we arived back to this place.  A good strong point, and we walked in thinking of a great covey rise.  Again, one bird.  Again we searched.  Again we left wondering where's the covey.

What Does Quail Mean Anyway?

If you asked me what quail means, I would say hunting with my Dad, watching the dog work or waiting for my son and daughter to hit their first bird on a covey rise.  Twenty some odd years ago, someone might have said “the vice-president” when asked what quail means.  What do our youth today say?

Don McKenzie makes the point that kids today do not even know what quail are, not to mention what it means.  Not even kids in a hunter education class.  To help reverse this trend as well as the trend of less habitat for quail, go to Things Today's Kids May Never Know About and read his story.

A Bird in the Ravine is Worth Two in the Bush

Quail Season is here in Georgia and things have changed around Johnny's hunting camp.  Two years ago, we were all sitting in deer stands every morning and every evening.  Johnny's son kept that vigil this year, but no one else ventured out of camp with a rifle.  There are coveys around and that's the focus now.



Sydnie and Rube



Some of you may remember that I planted a Dove Field over the summer and that it didn't produce as much as I hoped.  I spent much of the First Dove Season hunting a friend's field and skipped the second season.  Anyway, what the field didn't do for the Doves, it did for the Quail.  This was the area where we found birds over the long Thanksgiving Weekend.  And what a sight to see Johnny's young Brittney working and pointing.

Sydnie and a Brittany Ready to Hunt

The first time we found this covey, it was in an eight year old clear cut heading up to the field.  I was on the road and the Brittany came running down without a care, when it suddenly stopped, turned, locked, and sprinted in the woods with purpose.  Johnny and George headed into the clear cut, but the birds scattered.  Johnny's dad, Rube, did shoot one that made it up to the field, but it landed in the woods and we couldn't find it.  Oh well.

That afternoon, Johnny and I headed back up to the field to see if the covey had regrouped.  The Brittany again was birdy in the field, but headed in the woods at the edge.  As we approached the woods, PURRRRROUGH, a covey rose from under our feet!  Caught off guard we rose and I downed a bird that fell in about the same bush as the bird that morning.  And again, after searching and searching, we had no luck at finding the bird.  Oh Well.

The field gave us another chance the next day.  When we got to the field in the afternoon, the Brittany looked birdy as soon as we got there.  He found a bird at the lower corner and Johnny called that it was a single.  The dog held the point perfectly giving us time to set up.  I stepped in, and the whole covey rose with a surprise to us all.  I was somehow able to hit one, but again it landed in the woods.

As we stepped into the woods, we met a sheer cliff going into a ravine about 25 feet deep.  And at the bottom was the quail.  Johnny’s Brittany was more interested in the single birds in the woods, so a long walk to the bottom of the ravine and back up was the only way to retrieve.  But we at least had a quail in the bag.



A Craw full of Sesame



Cleaning this bird showed a craw full of the Sesame I had planted for doves.   Johnny added four others to the meal that night of fried Quail.  The best things about these quail hunts: watching the dog work, getting a shock at a covey rising at my feet, a craw full of Sesame, my daughter refusing to let someone else carry her heavy gun, and listening to Johnny and his dad argue over the value of the dog.

A Little Bragging

A little over a week ago, Johnny, his son George, Sydnie and I met at the fields to plant a couple of quail plots.  Afterwards, we shot a few clay pigeons.  George was on, I was off and for some stands, way off.  I need a lot of time on target before the seasons start.  Even so, I do have some bragging to do.

A couple of years ago, some friends of ours visited us from out of town.  Jay is a golf pro, so I took a day off work and arranged for us to play a new course in the area.  I don’t golf and I didn’t learn much, but I did take Jay’s advice on bragging.  When a golfer returns and someone asks how he did, the answer is always a brief mention of what he did best.  Jay got a birdie on the fourth hole, I one putted the 8^th green.  Get the picture?



Who Shot That Bird?



Despite my bad day at skeet, I do have some bragging to do.  Every time I’ve shot at a bird on Johnny’s land, a bird has fallen.  Sure, I haven’t done much wing shooting there, just a couple of quail hunts and two duck hunts, one of which I didn’t get a shot.  Sure there was the quail when both my father-in-law and I shot at the same time, and no one knows who hit the bird.  But so far, each time I’ve shot while bird hunting on Johnny’s land, the bird has fallen.

OK, enough bragging.  I’m sure my streak will end on the first dove hunt this season.   I’ll need a lot of time on targets this summer in preparation for that hunt.

A Long Awaited Hunt

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.”

Later that week, I took the soil to the state and started to impatiently await the results.


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