If you have followed my column the past couple years you know that our local quail population has plummeted to what has been quite frankly…no population. Now that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen or heard quail but finding them come November has been a real chore. This spring while fishing around some of the state’s small lakes down in the Greene-Sullivan area I heard quail whistling…and at times there were many calling from place to place. Just three weeks back I was fishing the perimeter of one of these lakes in my float tube and heard a familiar sound…the sound of flushing quail. That was of particular interests to me! I looked and saw what I thought was a couple birds landing in a thicket next to the shore. I fished my way back to the truck, unloaded my tube, took off my waders and drove my vehicle over to where I had seen ‘the birds’. I took a few steps and quail started buzzing out from waist high grass in all directions; it was one of the most glorious sights I had seen in quite a while!
Fast forward to November 1 of this year; I had just dropped off the kids from my class at the high school from an overnight camping trip when my thoughts turned to quail. In under an hour I had loaded up my three dogs; Royale, Macy and Pappi and was parking my truck with dog trailer in tow. All I knew was there was an excitement just knowing that for sure there were quail…all I had to do was find them.
The grass was thick, still wet and damp from the hard frost and partial snowing that had occurred the night before…and it was now almost noon. I was watching Pappi to my right when I heard a noise that quickly got my attention; to my left one of my two older dogs had bumped into a covey of about 15 quail and they were speedily zig-zagging their way straight away from me along the edge of the county road. While I wasn’t happy we had busted the birds…we had indeed busted birds!
In the next couple hours I chased singles and even found one more nice covey…took a few photos, did some work with the pup (Pappi) and managed to take a nice pair, a male and female quail before deciding to pull the plug and go fishing for a bit. As I was paddling backwards a couple hours later…back towards the truck…the last few rays of sun was shining brightly, warmly on my face. I closed my eyes and just soaked in the warmth and the blessings of a great day outdoors, chasing quail and catching a few bass.
The next morning found me up early, on my way to Hardee’s for a biscuit…all while I read the HT and found out how the local cross country kids had done the day before. It was at that point that I found and read a very nice piece written on my coach/longtime friend, Charlie Warthan. Charlie’s cross country team had done well…had placed 6th at the state meet the day before. Forty years later and Coach is still out there, shaping lives and making it to the top of the state!
I gave Charlie a call and got Mrs. Coach (Marianne) who handed me off to Charlie; after a quick discussion about yesterday’s positive experience with quail we decided to make a return trip and once again try our hand at harvesting a few of these small dynamo’s. 
Truth is that quail hunting solo is tough work…if you have ever tried it in thick cover you know how often they can (and do) squirt out the other direction on you.
By 2pm we had eased into the parking area, released 3 of our 4 dogs, and was once again working our way along the edge of the county road. Like clockwork we hadn’t gone more than 50 yards when I watched Royale slam to a point…Macy quickly backed and our quail hunt was started. I snapped a few photos as Charlie whoaed Quincy, then readied myself and flushed about 12 quail…all of which whirred around Charlie; the old coach snapped his Ruger to his shoulder, fired and one plump little male quail would be his first upland bird of the season. It was a classic scene right off the cover of any number of outdoor magazines and I was thrilled to have taken it all in.
In the next couple hours we would move one nicer covey of about 18 birds as we bobbed in and out of cedars and wild plum trees. Even with two of us…the birds were clearly at home in the wooly country and while we enjoyed good dog work we were only able to harvest a couple more quail. The point on this day wasn’t numbers as it might have been a few years back; the point was pretty simple…we were moving quail, nothing else seemed to matter.
Our day was simple…there were no cross country trips, no extravagant plans, just a couple of friends, a few good dogs and time spent together…once again hunting an American Classic, Bobwhite Quail…and all while Enjoying the Great Outdoors.
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