Bobwhite Quail Terrify Me

I realize that’s an odd title for a blog, but I am ashamed to admit that creeping in past a pointer locked up in their…well, point…indicating to all and sundry that there are Bobwhite Quail under their elegant noses is one of the most hair-raising episodes I ever experience. My shame would be much more intense if the Bird-hunting savant himself had not expressed a very similar existential angst associated with his own pursuit of these 7-ounce IEDs. I am speaking of course of Robert Ruark who wrote this:

The dog changes the position of his head and creeps forward another six yards, and you come up behind him when he freezes again…when you walk past him…The world explodes, and a billion bits of it fly out in front of you…They go in all directions – right, left, behind you, over your head, sometimes straight at you…He weighs less than half a pound, but has just induced nervous prostration in a man, a boy, and two dogs.

On Point

On a recent trip to Dorchester Shooting Preserve near Savannah, Georgia, as I crept past the two German Short-Haired Pointers, Billy Ray Cyrus and Bee, I felt my sweaty armpits though the air temperature was in the 50s. I also noticed the slight tremor running along the Fausti Caledon shotgun grasped a bit too tightly in my hands.

Waiting for the flush

Two steps into the thick vegetation to the front of the GSPs the world did indeed blow up in my face. The effect from the two rapid booms from my shotgun were immediately evident. Though possibly a bit deafened, every one of the Bobwhites flew otherwise unharmed into the nearby oak-pine forest.

I am glad to state that my afternoon hunt in the company of my friends, Tim Lowe and Duane Harris, in the capable hands of Chris Futch and his pack of beautifully trained pointers and flushers, did not end sans Quail dropped by me. However, I must be honest and relate that Tim and Duane brought down many more of the 59 quail bagged than I. Yet, there is never a bad day on the Dorchester’s magnificent 5000-acres of prime hunting habitat. Frances, as usual, the photographer-videographer for the adventure, and I can state that having been to the property a total of three times. And I cannot wait to return yet again, even if I’ll face each covey rise in fear and trepidation…

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