All autumn, I had read good reports of quail in Kansas, Oklahoma and Texas and when I looked at the forecast, the temperatures in Kansas were in the fifties for the duration of my five day weekend. I dreaded a 1,000 mile trip to hunt three days, but once again, I dedicated my mission to two old setters that deserved to hunt somewhere. Mileage, motels, gas and a nonresident license all add up quickly, but no one knows what next season brings for birds, dogs and us.
I still managed to find icy roads in both Montana and Wyoming, so I didn't complete the journey in one day. But, I knew my aging dogs would limit my time in the field anyway, so getting a later start that first day, wasn't too alarming. With the beauty of technology, I was able to order my Kansas hunting license and download the Walk In hunting atlas to my Iphone, all why driving through busy Denver traffic. (Just kidding. I did it in my motel that evening. But, Denver traffic was horrible. And the Kansas Walk In map app is awesome) By, 9AM Saturday morning, I was hunting in a shirt and without gloves, while my friends back home were shoveling snow off their sidewalks.
I missed the first chance at quail due to a terrible case of anxiousness. Both barrels were emptied to no avail. But, my entire trip was made just a few minutes later, as I shot a double over my 12 year-old Tess, when the birds decided to sit tight and even fly my direction. I gave Tess a quick hug and took the five-ounce bird from her jaws and had Abby find the second. It was a great start to a trip that was fairly ad-libbed.
My assumption on how this trip would unfold, would be to find some pheasants scattered amidst the private lands open to public, walk-in hunting. I assumed I would find an occasional covey of bobwhite if I burnt enough boot leather. I was hoping to add the bird to my life list, as I had only shot Mearns quail roughly 15 years earlier. As it turned out, this would end up being a bobwhite hunt first, with pheasants more of a ancillary discovery.
I shot very poorly, but it was often a case of the yips, combined with the excitement of abundant coveys and good dog work. Once I decided to focus on quail instead of pheasants, I left my 20 gauge in the truck, dumped 28 gauge shells in my vest and shot markedly better with the lighter, faster over-under.
The hunting and the terrain was very gentlemanly, just like I had read for years in the high-society sporting magazines. While my setters were in good shape for their age, the Kansas terrain benefitted them greatly compared to the chukar hills of the West. I had never imagine that I would be able to cough up enough cash to have a southern plantation hunt, so to find huntable, wild bobwhite populations on land open to the public, was a very pleasant surprise. My truck odometer and bank account both took a serious hit, but the odds of returning to Kansas in the future, when Mother Nature is unfriendly in the northern latitudes, are very good. Long live bobwhite quail.
