Nov. 5 - The Great Quail Hunt

Well Friday was my first day off in one hundred and eighty seven years, so I decided to take my wife hunting with Rebel and I.  You are correct.  It wasn’t her idea at all.  Due to work and weather, Rebel had not gotten out much in the last five days, besides a few flights in the yard and a short hunt the day prior.  He was frisky and ready to go.

I had decided that this was the day to fly Rebel on the last quail that had been in the pen for almost two weeks waiting on the perfect moment to arrive.  Now I tried to fly this guy once before and he had escaped from his prison inside my game bag only to find himself locked in the bed of my truck.  I had to scrap plans of flying him that day and re-trap him for later.  Well this time he wasn’t going to get out.  I had a breathable bag that I could tie shut to prevent any such occurrences from getting in the way.  After all, it wasn’t every day that I could talk my wife into coming to watch a hunt.  And take photos.  Did I mention that she was just dying to go take photos of Rebel with me?

Anyway, I grabbed the spritely little guy and prepared to pop him into my bag.  Well someone must have told him he was heading to maximum security, because before I could get him in the bag, the little feathered devil gave a kick and a burst of speed that would have made Pele proud and I found myself holding a fistful of tail feathers.  Sonofa…..!!!

Okay, so the situation wasn’t completely out of control.  He was still in the garage and if I just shut the doors, I figured I could come back and reflush him with Rebel laying in wait outside.  Okay, not ideal but not too bad, right?

So we head out to Doc’s pond and walk in the woods in the fresh air.  There was plenty of wildlife around if you count mosquitoes, but the squirrels had gotten the bulletin that we would be in the area.  Rebel flew beautifully but no squirrels were seen.  Once he flew all the way across the pond to a neighbor’s house and I thought he may have been on something, but if he had chased one, he didn’t catch it.

On the way home, he chased two squirrels by the boat landing but gave up on them after they ducked in knotholes.  Frustrated he headed back to the house.  Once there, I put him in the big live oak in the middle of the circular driveway and I went into the garage to flush said quail.  I was excited and impatient to watch this flight and I think Laura was too by the way she was pacing and saying “Can’t we get this over with?”

So I go into the garage to flush the quail as he, rather rudely in my opinion, did not deign to come out on his own, and I can’t find him.  Anywhere.  I turn to ask Laura if Rebel is still in position when little Houdini, the master escapist, jumps right out of thin air at my feet, giving me a coronary in the process.  Instead of flying right out of the garage like any sane quail would, Houdini decided that the Bronco looked like safe haven for him.  I chased him over there, banging shins and elbows on all of the absolutely essential items in my garage.  Did he flush out?  Nope.  Right back to the other side.

We repeated that process several times before enlightenment struck and I decided to back the cars out of the garage.  Well, all but one.  The trusty Bronco refused to start as usual so we made do.  Once the other two cars were out, I cornered Houdini under the Bronco.  I flushed him out to the edge of the garage and thought he would fly any second.  This bird lives to disappoint me so of course he headed right back into the garage.  Almost too late…  Rebel saw him and he came crashing into the garage.  It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.  I was yelling “NO!” as my hawk flew under the bronco after this damned quail.  The quail scooted booty to the other side of the garage, deftly avoiding all of the essential crap in the garage.  Still feeling my bruises from before, part of my mind  was somewhat envious of his dexterity.  The other part was pissed that he didn't at least ruffle a feather or something to make me look a little less like a chump.  I didn’t have time to dwell on this, however, as right behind him came Rebel, way to big to maneuver in the garage.  He actually tried to crash through the spokes of Maddox’s bike.  I have seen him crash through tree branches the size of baseball bats and for a second, I thought he would make it through.

Well Houdini made yet another escape.  Honestly, this little bird has more lives than a cat.  I quickly called Rebel out of the garage because I was afraid of him getting hurt.  I put him back in the tree and, trying my best to ignore my wife laughing at me, began again trying to flush this quail out of my garage.  I couldn’t ignore Laura’s hoots anymore when I couldn’t even get the damned thing to fly when I started up the leaf blower.  Hell, I blew out the entire garage and couldn’t even find the damned thing.

By this point, Rebel was happily perched on the chimney and Laura had to excuse herself before hilarity took that unlooked for sharp right turn into incontinence, so I say screw it and shut the garage up tight.  I put out a little food and water for Houdini and vow to take my revenge another day.

Pretty sure even Rebel was laughing at me as I put him up for the evening.  Friggin’ Houdini…  Worst quail hunt of my life…