Early Season Quail Hunt

Since moving to the south, I've really wanted to go on either a dove or quail hunt - or both! - especially since I know that both types of hunting are so popular in this region.  My son had a chance to hunt doves recently, but only took a "Hail Mary" shot on a bird that was well out of range, which was disappointing.  I finally had my chance to hunt quail, and it did not disappoint.  

Leading up to the hunt, I was a little apprehensive, as I'd heard quite a bit about quail hunting, namely that it was probably the most difficult and dangerous kind of bird hunting a person could do.  The reason for both of these is the size and speed of the birds.  Quail are fast - very fast.  They get up quick, and their little wings propel those small bodies through the air like a hot knife through butter.  Not only that, but they use air currents to their extreme advantage, ducking and diving in a fraction of a second.  It's common to have pulled the trigger on a quail that was in your sites a half a second previous, but has since swooped out of harm's way.  To make matters worse, quail frequently blow back behind the hunters, often making their escape in between them.  And quail are inclined to fly low, usually not more than six feet off the ground - the average height of many hunters.  Extreme caution and attention to muzzle control is required for a safe hunt.  

Our day began with a long drive to Kentucky in the early morning hours, where our hunt would take place.  Our group of four hired an able guide named Shane who had no less than 10 hunting dogs in his stable, and who himself spent time in a different type of stable shoeing horses when not guiding bird hunts.  My weapon of choice for the hunt was a 28 gauge Benelli Ethos (which I borrowed from a friend) with a modified choke.  My friend shot a 28 gauge Beretta over/under and provided the ammo for the hunt, an Italian brand I had never heard of, but was quite confident I wouldn't have been able to afford on my own.  

We parked our vehicles and uncased and loaded our guns while Shane retrieved his retriever and pointer from their kennels in the bed of his truck.  It seemed as though as soon as I exited the truck I was covered in burrs that had no problem penetrating my three layers of shirt fabric to irritate my skin.  I would cringe later in the hunt when I noticed that the hunting dogs were covered in burrs, although they seemed none the worse for wear.  To them, I think, the excitement of the hunt trumped all other potential distractions.  

We had only taken about five or six steps in the direction toward the field we'd be hunting, when one of the dogs suddenly went on point.  I'm used to hunting with German short-hairs, but these two dogs were both cocker spaniels.  They were quite a bit smaller than the usual short-hairs, but no less excited and eager.  It was fun to see the small dog stand rock-still on point, all of her energy dutifully focused on telling her handler where the bird was.  Another new element to the hunt for me was that quail dogs work in pairs: one pointer, and one flusher.  The one dog finds the bird and points it out, while the other flushes the bird when commanded.  To be sure, both dogs function in both roles from time to time, but each dog has its primary job, and they do it well.  Watching the dog go through the tall grass is like watching a shark swim with its dorsal fin above the water.  You know where the shark is because you can see the fin.  In the tall grass, you get no glimpse of the dog, but you know exactly  where she is because you can see the grass being pushed out of the way by excited pup.  You know the dog is on a bird when the grass stops moving.  

Before the hunt, I resolved to just watch the first couple of birds flush and defer the shot to my hunting partner.  I wanted to get a good feel for what I was in for.  However, when the first quail flushed, my resolution was forgotten.  I shouldered the light-weight shotgun and fired.  Bird down.  It was fast, and over quickly.  

What happened next was, short of an accident or injury, probably the worst thing that could have happened to me.  The dogs pointed again, another bird flushed, and my shotgun reported again.  Another bird down.  I say this was an unfortunate occurrence because it gave me a potentially false sense of confidence in my quail-hunting ability.  I had seen two birds, taken two shots, and had two happy dogs as a result.  I began to think that all the reports I had heard about the difficulties of quail hunting were exaggerated.  

I was wrong.  

What was not exaggerated was the speed of the quail.  They would flush and be gone in a matter of just a few seconds.  I didn't keep close track of how many birds got up versus how many birds I put down, but I can honestly say that I began to get frustrated.  What appeared to be the easiest shots resulted in the easiest of escapes for the quail.  When you empty your gun and the bird flies away unharmed, frustration is the result.  From what I've been told, most quail hunters would be satisfied with a 50% conversion rate on a typical hunt.  I didn't keep track during my hunt, but I think (hope?) it was about that.  

One particular element of the hunt made me think of Genesis 9:2.  When God established the predator/prey relationship, it seems as though quails didn't get the message.  They wait an incredibly long time to flush, as though they must first exhaust all avenues of escape before they choose to fly.  Once, a bird flushed and we took a few shots at it but hit nothing but air.  The quail glided unharmed to the ground right at the wood line of the field we were hunting.  The dogs began to sprint to where the quail alighted, and we followed closely behind.  By the time we arrived to where the quail had landed, the pointer was already diligently performing her duty, even though the bird's presence was apparent for all to see.  As I approached, I could see that the dog was about four feet from the bird as it stood on the ground.  It was clearly aware of the dog's menacing presence, yet it was not compelled to escape.  The dog slowly moved forward, an inch at a time, getting ever closer.  Still, the bird remained unmoved.  Soon the dog was no more than two feet away, and yet the bird continued its rock-solid vigil.  By this time we were stationed on either side of the bird, probably no more than ten or twelve feet away.  Finally, when the dog could contain itself no longer and was ordered to flush, the bird finally flew to its own demise.  

I obviously couldn't read the bird's mind, but it seemed to lack the "fear and dread" of Genesis 9.2, at least for the most part.  Maybe it was just putting on a front; maybe it was relying on its incredible camouflage that enables it to blend seamlessly into the shadows.  Whatever the reason, I was amazed at its bravery (stupidity?).  

At the end of the day we had bagged a couple dozen quail and a couple pheasants, all of which we processed and brought home with us.  Quail are definitely challenging, but they're worth the effort.  I look forward to hunting them again.