Quail Hunting
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I remember those fun quail hunting trips with my brother,
We had so much fun hunting those quail with one another.
This poem just touches on some of my memories of those trips.
Describing the action we saw out hunting long before I was a crip.
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Quail Hunting
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In the early 1970s, my brother Craig and I hunted a lot of quail.
I used my 12 gauge Browning Citori over and under without fail,
And Craig used his Charles Daly 12 gauge over and under shotgun.
We both used number 7 lead shot, regular load shells on our runs.
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Craig came to our house in the morning and Pam fixed us breakfast.
We would eat it down and drink some coffee so our energy would last.
Then get out our hunting gear and get all dressed for the outdoors.
While talking about the last hunting trip, seeing who could boast more.
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We both had hunting jackets with leather and pads on the shoulder,
And a hunting vest with shell holders making us look a bit like soldiers.
We sort of strutted when we got all dressed up in our hunting outfits,
Making Pam laugh a little as we headed on one of our hunting trips.
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We hunted areas with sage brush full of dry seedy weeds.
That were perfect for supplying all the quails daily food needs.
Lake Meredith recreational areas provided ideal quail habitat,
Just a few miles from my front door, you just can’t beat that.
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In the Panhandle, we hunted quail, both the Bob White and Blues.
The Blues were bigger and ran on the ground just ahead of you,
They had beautiful blue coloring with a top notch on their head,
A single bird would flush at a time challenging you to shoot him dead.
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Sometimes we chased them around for an hour beside one another.
They would not flush unless they ran completely out of good cover.
We took turns shooting when the single Blue Quail did finally flush.
Sometimes they lost us completely leaving our faces with a red blush.
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The Bob Whites would call their own name so you could find them.
They were a brown and white camouflage color with speckled trim.
When you got close, they would sit still and hold fast on the ground.
Then burst into the air all at once with a very loud fluttering sound.
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You had to pick one out and then fire and then another and fire again,
If we were lucky, we would each get two birds, calling it a big win.
You watched where they flew and followed, usually getting more shots.
There’s nothing better than hunting outdoors getting quail for the pot.
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We got 10 or 12 birds that we cleaned looking like little baby chickens,
Each quail was about 4 meat bites after they had finished cookin’.
So Pam fixed lots of fried potatoes and corn on the cob so we got full.
And the next week end of the season, we’d be back listening for calls.
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These memories like this are what makes being older worthwhile,
So when someone tells you that old man went out in great style.
It’s because he enjoyed life so much when he was a young man,
Making all those memories he carries, remembering when he can.
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By Bill
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Thanks for reading Quail Hunting,
Bill