Homedale Quail

I went to Boise to do some engineering for Dad. Stayed at the Ranch. I brought my shotgun. After doing engineering work at the Plant - I decided to go quail hunting. Quail were a regular sighting going to and from the ranch house ... so, enough of just watching them ... I pulled out my epoch-old Rem 870 20 gage shotgun, currently barreled sawed off / cylinder ... and headed out the back yard. At grass edge was a healthy `herd' of quail - they started running. I was loaded up with shells that I didn't even know would work. If I was meat hunting I could have taken them on the ground - but I decided for some sport. I hadn't shot at quail or the like for quite some time. Quickly they erupted into flight. My first shot felled three roo quail. Yeah! My next shot felled a fourth. A third shot missed. Then recovery efforts began - without a dog. I was able to find the first 3. They were all laying on the ground where they fell pointed the same direction about 11 inches apart. I quickly disassembled my gun and took out the plug - so I could load up with one in the chamber and 4 in the mag (2 more than if waterfowl hunting). I walked a bit farther and got a triple. Another recovery operation. Arghhh ... after searching long, I was only able to find 2. Again and again I looked hard for these two lost birds. From that point on I took them on only one bird at a time. I discovered something. Once quail take off, they are probably going 30 mph plus by the time you pull the trigger. If killed in mid-air, they take on `projectile' motion until they hit the ground, ... but they don't just `stick' ... they bounce and roll. And that's if they are dead ... if not - then they commence running, or other. One quail flew, bounced, rolled, and then ran another ten or so yards, and then expired. Well, before long I had my limit (10). And I hardly dented the population.

The next morning Dad went in to the plant and I slept in. I awoke after the sun had come up and staggered upstairs, looking for caffeine. Out the back window an army of quail was advancing up the yard from the east. I looked out the west window and scattered elements of quail were moving toward the house from the west. I found some coffee still warm on the stove from Dad, and as caffeine levels climbed in my bloodstream and brain, I put on clothes and boots and vest ... but by the time I got outside they had vanished. A giant cow had wandered into the yard and scared them off. I decided to ascend the hill up above the ranch in search of chukar (partridge). I scared up one covey of quail nearing the fence at the canal. I didn't shoot. Once across the canal I shot my way through another covey, getting a triple, but only finding two. Arghhh. I looked long and hard. Oh, for a dog on scene. Perhaps the third had only a broken wing and took off running through the broken sagebrush. I then ascended the hill. Recent pummeling rains made the sandy soil like walking on foam. Gosh, I hadn't shot at chukars for so long. (What would it be like again?) At a rock outcropping a covey got up - I toppled one and passed on others as I didn't want to knock down more than I could recover. I couldn't find it. I was feeling pretty bad - ... Searching. Finally I gave up. On around the rock outcropping I spotted a coyote laying and fussing around in the sun about 80 yards out. He didn't know I was there. He appeared to be there for a reason. Sure enough, he was posted just above a covey of about 30 chukar. The coyote didn't see me - but evidently the wind carried my scent (probably locker-room grade by now) ... and he was off. The chukar didn't like the looks of me walking toward them - they took off - but I marked where they went.

I jumped the covey again ... first shot was a `hit' but the bird kept going ... second shot dropped one - but he hit the ground running (a `runner'). I went down to where I saw it last - but in vain. Bummmmer. By this time they were scattered ... great for hunting with a dog - marginal without. I jumped a pair and dropped one ... and marking where it fell, I shot at but missed the second. I went down and found the bird. In his last moments he was belly up and flapping all over the place - easy to see - but on his very last `flap' he flipped over and with only his gray back showing, looked no different than the five billion `other' gray rocks in proximity. But I got him. Yeah!

I planned to meet Dad for lunch, so I descended the hill(s) and shot my way back through some more quail upon return to the ranch ... a clean shot with safe backdrop dropped a roo quail near the front lawn. The quail sat where he fell, but very much alive and aware of my approach. I decided to throw my tac vest on him and then grab it flopping around under my vest. (Certainly it would run - at speeds close to flight - if I merely reached for it with my hand.) I set my gun down and disrobed my vest. (Key phrase `set my gun down' ...) Throwing the vest worked, but to my amazement it instantly found an arm hole in the vest - popped out - and was running full speed for the nearby cover. Of course my gun was laying on the ground off behind me. I ran and grabbed it - turned and blasted the quail just as it disappeared into the brush. Barely; whoa. Got him.

Back at the ranch, I had a late breakfast, then, since Dad arrived during, moved seamlessly into the next meal -lunch. After Dad left I painted some no-hunting signs on the fence along the canal, to preserve the quail herd. Paint now used up I decided to see if I could bag some more quail. About the time I really thought I had things down - I flat out missed three or four quail in a row. That was enough. Good time to quit. I packed up, and as I was talking on the sat phone letting Tammy know I was on my way home, several coveys were flying from one patch of sagebrush to another - both taunting me and assuring me they'd be there for next time.

I had forgot ... chukar hunting is the ultimate sport ... rugged terrain, great exercise, scenery, difficult shooting, elegant bird, the reward of working with a good gun dog, etc., etc. And the birds are great on the table. Hmmmm ... and this started with Quail.