“Dog on point!” Paul yelled out as he hit the breaks on the 4WD Mule. To the left was an English Pointer frozen in a mott of shin oaks. 3 of us jumped over a barb wire fence, loaded our guns, fanned out and walked quickly towards the dog. Safety off. I got parallel with the dog and the grass in front of me lifted off the ground. It exploded just under the tree tops into 30 bobwhite quail. In one instance I drew and shot twice through the shinnery, splintering tree limbs and kicking quail into high gear.
Quail hunting is like walking into, and out of a beautiful painting all day long. Gene Hill