Tuesday, June 26, 2012

The Attitude Of Arizona Quail

They Are Every Where!!!
Here in Arizona the quail can have a real nasty attitude. In the summer time, they are known to be especially nasty. Relentlessly teasing and mocking any hunter that comes along, knowing they can't do anything about it. Every time I am within earshot they start quietly cooing in an attempt to elicit a reaction. Then they go to running around right out in the open just to see if I am paying attention. If that doesn't work they go to whispering subtle derogatory suggestions on my ability to aim. If that still doesn't get a reaction they move into the personal insults about body odor, and fashion sense. Being a forgiving and patient person who is confident in my shooting abilities and personal hygiene I do not give in to this type of juvenile taunting, even from those nasty little quail. But a couple of weeks ago those pesky birds started to get really personal by saying nasty things about my truck. It took everything I had, but I held my cool and didn't respond. Then they started talking about my mother, and well I just can't have those little featherd punks talking about my mother that way! I decided that something had to be done to put those birds back in their place!

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

A Proper Shotgun Mount

Typical Arizona Quail Hunting Landscape
The bottle of water just touches your lips as several Gamble's quail flush from a bush just in front of you and everything goes into slow motion. Your grip releases from the bottle and your arms snap your shotgun tight to your shoulder. Your cheek automatically goes to the comb and you lean slightly forward in perfect form as a violent flurry of whistling feathers take off in every direction. The brass bead sight is the only visible part of the far end of the barrel when you sight in on one of the fat white rumps sailing away from you at lightening speed. It all comes together perfectly. Just like you practiced it thousands of times at the range. You know this bird is going to fold up as you pull back on the trigger, but all you get is the solid resistance of immobile metal as the water bottle hits the ground.You track the bird over a thick stand of mesquite trees and a  heartbeat passes as what just happened sinks in. You lower the shotgun slack-jawed at the realization that you made the most embarrassing of rookie errors by forgetting to release the safety.