Originally Posted by
Burney Mac
I put a few out for him last year and will do the same again shortly. Sadly, that dog has only ever been into two wild coveys of birds. If it weren't for pen raised birds I doubt he would even know how to point.
Dad had his theories on the decline of the population like so many other folks did. He attributed a good portion of the decline to coons, possums, skunks, and of course hawks. If I wanted to see my dad smile all I had to do was bring him a set of talons. On our farm we did not have a hawk problem, I can assure you. Then there were the evolving ag practices. The use of herbicides and pesticides changed over the years. Farmers became more efficient as machinery has evolved. The fence and hedge rows are no more, fields widened to gain every possible acre. Essentially any ground cover is destroyed and turned into crop land, which doesn't leave any cover for birds to travel through to feed quickly and return to safety. He always wondered what correlation there may have been between the decline of quail and the abundance of turkey and chicken farms once they started growing in our area.
Our farm was in Anson County, N.C. My uncle farmed our land with typical corn and soybean crop rotations each year. Dad had little plots scattered all over the 140 acres that were for the quail, mostly some variation of lespedeza or buckwheat. When I was a around 8 to 10 years old my uncle stopped farming and me and dad took over, well mostly dad. Corn, beans, milo, millet, buckwheat, lespedeza were all planted yearly. We never harvested anything, well occasionally we would cut a little corn and beans just to off set some cost. Mostly it was straight out of pocket and left for the wildlife to enjoy. Basically our farm was nothing more than a designated quail restoration project. Everything was done for the sole purpose of enhancing and sustaining the habitat strictly for quail. The ditch and border cover remain intact to this day, only manipulation is they would be mowed every other year after the quail were done nesting as to ensure plenty of cover come fall and winter. I'd like to have a dollar for ever pound of lespedeza I've hand sewn in various places all across Anson county.
Dad hunted a big track of land several times a year near Manning S.C. These guys had strict management practices in place just for quail hunting. They kept records of every covey sighting, every covey point, how many birds were in the covey, how many birds killed, if singles were hunted all kinds of different data. They never shot a covey down below 10 birds. He said in the mid 70's he started noticing, they as well, that the numbers seemed to be dropping off and their records proved it as well . However, the bird numbers seemed to still be steady here in south central N.C. However, a few years later he started to notice a decline in our area as well. Every Christmas we would go to Bath, N.C. to visit friends, it was nothing more than a quail hunting trip. While our numbers were on the trend downward, the hunting was still really good down on the east coast. By the late 80's early 90's, they too were experiencing what had been told was coming.
When I was to little to walk and keep up dad would carry me on his shoulders when he went to run the dogs in the off season. I can remember a black snake that had gotten in the quail pen and swallowed 4 birds, but was then to large to get out. Dad cut the snake open just to prove to me that the quail were actually inside him, I was hard headed and didn't believe him.
I wasn't raised on wild quail like some of the more fortunate people in the world have been. Sadly, most of my knowledge of dog work and knowledge of the sport is based off of pen raised birds, but there is no comparison to the real thing. I was still taught proper etiquette, how to hunt, how to handle a firearm, what was accepted and frowned upon. You didn't boast about your dogs or your shooting, nor did you talk shit about another mans dogs. If you did the next time out you'd be lucky to draw a feather and your dogs would act like they'd never smelled a bird. Karma
I can still hear the stories of days gone by. "Son, those 200 acres of pines right there used to have an old house at the back end. There was always a covey or two on the backside. Beans were planted in the fields and there were two hedge rows that were always good for at least a covey or two". " I used to could leave at daylight and never get out of sight of the house and I knew where there were 10 to 12 coveys of birds". Sadly there were many more stories of where there were once fond memories of days gone by.
Some people don't understand, I know my friends don't. The few times I have talked about bird hunting you can see the disbelief and utter confusion in their eyes. They've never experienced anything like it and likely never will. Dad always said he hoped he could live long enough to see quail return to their glory days, much like the wild turkey has returned to the landscape. That never happened.
To me, there is something pure about bird hunting, it has always appealed to me. There is something special about watching a dog running full speed come to a complete stop to lock in on a covey of birds, and to watch 3 or 4 more honor the point. You take a brief moment to enjoy and mentally take a picture. You cautiously move forward, checking the dogs to be sure they aren't creeping. You focus on the lead dog, you can tell by their eyes if the birds are close of if they've run. They eyes tell it all, they haven't ran, they're right there. Then it happens, the adrenaline rush of the covey rise where things are moving at lightning speed, but also in slow motion as well. You swing the gun effortlessly and instincts take over. Just like that, in a matter or seconds, it's all over with.
Quail hunters are addicts, a wild covey rise in front of good dogs is the purest form of drug addiction that there is IMO.
I agree with the others. If the opportunity was still available all I would do is bird hunt. There would be no need for any other non sense.
I apologize for being so long winded and realize this is not story time nor was this the intention of this thread. However, it feels good to talk about this on a place where some people will understand where I'm coming from. I think back on the past with a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye reminiscing on days gone by with my father. Sometimes a man just needs to get some shit off his chest. Quail hunting is something that I hold near and dear to my heart, and greatly respect the sport and also what some would call artwork. It was never about the kill, it was about everything else but the kill. My dad, along with most of his friends are now gone. All I have left are the memories and stories of what once was and how things used to be.
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