Quail Hunting

By Michael Thurman

 CORPUS CHRISTI, Texas (AP) -- Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot and wounded a companion during a weekend quail hunting trip in Texas, spraying the fellow hunter in the face and chest with shotgun pellets.

Sunday, February 12, 2006; Posted: 9:29 p.m. EST (02:29 GMT)

 "It was not Harry's fault," he went on to say. "You can't blame anybody else. I'm the guy who pulled the trigger and shot my friend. It's a day I'll never forget."

 ALBUQUERQUE – Years before Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot a lawyer during a Texas quail hunt, Cheney himself was on the receiving end of an errant shotgun blast.

In 2005, 30 hunting accidents occurred in Texas, according to Steve Hall, education director for Texas Parks and Wildlife Department in Austin.

"Of those 30 accidental shootings, two were fatalities and a total of 13 were from quail, dove, pheasant and other types of bird hunting," Hall said.

Ok! I watched as Vice President Cheney was metaphorically shot, dressed, and cooked to a crispy critter for his hunting mistake. I have done a little quail hunting myself and can attest to its hazards.  All these self-appointed judges have no clue what quail hunting is all about.

It is about adrenalin coursing through your veins, nerves taunt, you heart racing so fast you think it will burst, and then it gets, Wow!

If you don’t mind, I will take you though a reenactment of how I remember my first quail hunting experience.  If you do mind, tough this is my story. Read it!

 Picture if you will a teenager (me) and an old hunting-pro (Vernon) getting ready for the big quail hunt.  I have my trusty double barrel 20-gauge shotgun and Vernon has his pump. As Vernon gets out his hunting vest he presents me with an awesome orange vest with cool stretchy things to put shotgun shells in and a pouch in the back to put my kills in.

“Thank you Vernon. Wow! I can put a whole box of shells in this.  It fits great!”

It is such a thrill to load up those shotgun shells in your own hunting vest the first time. After we donned our gear. We headed out to the field.  We, being Arkansas farmers, had our own hunting preserve. Of course, most passer-biers probably saw it as just another 160-acre farm. Not today! It is a quail hunting preserve! 

 Now to be honest, I do not remember if we had bird dogs with us the first time Vernon and I went out.  I don’t think so, and my best hunting memories are without dogs. I enjoy quail hunting more without them.  Dogs take away from the challenge in bagging that frightful critter The Quail.  Now a cute little puff of feathers that walks around whistling Bob-Bob-White, Bob-Bob-White might not seem frightful to you. Well, let my tell you, they can take a young man and send him to the ground screaming for mommy in a heartbeat.

 Before we get to the hunt, let me tell you a little about Vernon’s sense of humor.  We had an electric fence around part of the house most of the time. One time, when we were going out into the field, Vernon grabbed the fence and climbed over.  I followed in hot pursuit.  Man-o-man! What a mistake. That fence was juiced!  After I picked myself up off the ground, he said, “Just grab it real tight and you won’t feel the shock.” After I picked myself up off the ground again, I began to suspect, he is one of those guys that do not feel pain.  He sure seemed to enjoy my over hypersensitivity to pain though.   Not on this occasion, but sometime later we were crossing the hot wire again and he decided to teach me how to determine if a fence was juiced. He picked up a stick and touched it to the fence and said, “If you check it this way, the stick takes the shock and you get just a little tingle. Go ahead and pull one of those stocks of fescue and try it.” BAM! Got me again.  Did you know a dry stick does not conduct electricity and a green stock of fescue does? I do now!

 Ok, back to the hunt.  As we walked out to the backfield where the fescue was tall. I learned to keep my gun pointed up and away from the other hunters.  Of course it was just Vernon and I.  Vernon explained, “When we flush the birds, pick one quickly, lead it a little, and fire while moving with the bird.”  

We were walking along and all of a sudden!  Whoosh,  Bccccccccccccccc, Bcccccccccccccc, and Boom!  This noise came from everywhere. Right, left and ahead. It was loud and startling.  I don’t think I was on the ground crying for mommy.  But, one thing is for sure. I was not the one that shot a quail. I imagine it was all Vernon could to do to keep from rolling on the ground laughing.   The birds were all gone and I was a quivering bowl of Jell-O. 

 Vernon said, “Ok, that is how it goes. You do not have time to dilly-dally.  When the birds flush, pick one, lead it shoot it. 1,2,3.”  My mental response went something like this I believe. “Yea, Yea, you said that before. I was just checking for my heart.  It seemed to have leaped out of my chest.” 

 Vernon collected his kill again.  I gathered myself together again.  The quail scurried off and regrouped again.  Off we went again.

 Reenact this a few times. 

 At long last, I was able to over come my nerves, control my body, pick a quail and pull the trigger.  Ok, I missed; but, after a few more tries, I got one.  Vernon said, “Good going.” right?  Nope! He said, “Didn’t you notice, only one bird fell?  Since I shot it, you missed again.”  Man, a kid can’t get a break.

 I eventually got a quail to call my own.  Quail hunting is unlike anything else I have ever done. I found hunting them to be such a challenge I returned on my own many times. 

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