I remember well the old days when there was severe frost in November
It's still enough for Bobwhite Quail to stumble across the carpet while walking through the woods
Search for deer or squirrels. I remember many times as a teenager, almost jumping
out of my shoes as the big stall exploded around me. Those were the days.
I was thirteen years old when my cousin Tom and his wife Wilma invited me to live
with them in Lynburg, Tennessee. It was there that I developed a passion for it
outdoors, which lives and grows stronger every day. In the area, Tom was well known
for the training of bird dogs. He really enjoyed training the massacres, which didn't seem to be training.
Needless to say, I followed many dogs with bean fields and barks
down some Some dogs were doing some not so good, but most of it was
there were enough birds there, with enough patience and guidance,
could get ready to train. I have to admit that some dogs may have had some;
shrimp, but in the end they could find enough birds to get a few shots a day
between us and that was enough, because it just had a meaning there. Or so
I was sixteen when we began to notice more and less mountain pies
places we have always found birds. Finally Tommy bought two high quality birds
dogs that we had hunted with their master in previous hunts. Their names were:
Rusty and Sally and I remember the voters well. Hunting alone was perfect
remote control and stay in view all day. Slab on the other side
hand hook wide, very wide indeed, with lots of hills and hollers found throughout
Recently in Tennessee, but in the end, his technique helped find a place where the veins that had grown a little
and far away. He could never cover an entire farm and even:
remember the crows in certain farms and leave the dog case like a lightning rod.
When he did that, we would have kept Rust in his box until Sally was out of sight.
so that we were able to keep Rusty close to catching places when Sali missed when she did
For the weekends we have found, Sali will keep it to us
we got there and sometimes it was over an hour, because we saw him on the pointed top
across the hill as we covered the rest of the farm.
I can remember my last hunting hunt as it happened yesterday. Sali escaped
a familiar farm, and we stayed close to Rust. We hunted where Sally was pointed.
Rusty supported Sally as we were fleeing tremendous greed. Tom and I easily missed it
shooting and watching as the stall was crawling out of the hillside and out of sight
on the farm. We knew the shots were going to be heavy, and after that they weren't really sure
blows such an easy shot.
Rusty and Sally watched all the singles fit into the motherboard and handles and
then he looked at us again as if asking "what happened to the boys" before swimming?
Sage covered in dense forests below the hill and out of sight. Air
It was cool and the sun was setting. It would be our last hunt of the season and:
I knew little, because digging that thin piece that day would make it my favorite
quail hunting ever and is where the greatest outdoor experience takes place
my life, unfortunately, will also end my quail hunting days, as I knew
to them. The brothers and the chipmunks were walking to no point, calling
I have applied my name everywhere. No wonder I finally called for it
We went into the mattress cover as Rusty and Sally worked on the brushes and the mat
scattered across the rocky slopes. Tommy was collecting 12-meter Browning
automatically, until my jacket was filled with 16-meter eighths for my Winchester
one shot. The dogs did a great job with the singles. Salin stayed because she knew
the birds were close, and Rusty stayed inside because Sali did so. Before we were not out;
mother's canvas, we each had four quail beads. There were jokes about my murder
just as much with my one shot as Tom had with his machine gun. Tommy said:
that the sun was falling, and we were better off calling it a day. I replied that he was just:
I wanted to get out of the woods before dumping his four birds.
We were heading to the truck, rejoicing in the heavy ribbons of our birds when I:
a single jumped. Turning to the right, I quickly fired when the bird came in
on top of the cedar tree. Tom and I both saw that the shot was part of the mother's grains. I.
of course i announced that i made the shot, even though i knew it had fir
probably took the handle of the shot, and the quail safely slid into the pile of brushes
somewhere along the bottom reptiles. Tommy was sure that I missed him and probably did
she secretly prayed that I had a tendency to "scratch it" at the time.
We both laughed, because I told him I was hitting the bird and we would find him righteous.
the other side of the cave. He assured me that I had missed him, and I sincerely thought that I:
it also had the point that I didn't notice Rusty climbing up the hill, my head high, high
fat Tennessee bobhead in the mouth. I laughed when I turned around and picked up the bird
rusty & # 39; out of my mouth and slide it into my crane with the others. Tommy just shook himself
We moved it back into the truck, just as the sun was rising and the summit was rising.
cold on Coca Cola and stood near the tavern. Throwing and unloading our jacket is ours
we relaxed with hunting rifles while Rusty and Saline were drinking
hunting around the truck in fancy and midnight. I knew and believe Tom did the same
Well, this was one of those special moments that allowed me to spend a little time
soaking in it and making sure that every moment of that day was dedicated to that place;
We are kept in our minds for the special moments of our lives.
We finished our throats and praised the dogs for a great day, as such
the sun was lower and the air was getting colder. Finally we loaded the dogs and made it easy
An old Chevy by road to the road to our house. I can still hear the gravel
falling under the tires. It is such a hunt to remember. I am
I'm sure our memories are different, and maybe they have become memories of hunting
a bit absurd as many hunters have come and gone, but this one is up
as I recall the days of the Bobch mountain range.