Yellow Dog Goes Quail Hunting

A couple of weeks ago I was invited by a longtime friend to go quail hunting at a really nice lodge in Western Kentucky.  Seeing as it was really expensive and I was unemployed, I naturally said "yes."  We stayed at the Wild Wing Lodge and Kennel, and the accommodations and hunting were spectacular.  It was a fantastic place, frequented by the "who's who" of the bird hunting and dog training trade, and was everything one could ask of a fancy-schmancy hunting trip.

Except, of course, for the snow.  March in Kentucky was supposed to be in the 50s.  During our trip, it was in the 20s and 30s.  Not fun, especially driving home in the ice storm/blizzard on the way back.  Ugh.

However, the weather difficulties were more than compensated by the quality of the hunting.  In my life I've run into coveys of quail before, but always while hunting pheasants in Iowa, and always by accident.  The covey rises have usually come at great surprise, and resulted in empty guns and nothing being added to the game strap.  Thus, given the chance to hunt coveys behind some of the best setters in the business, I'd finally be able to hunt "Mr. Bob" in a most appropriate fashion.

The only caveat was that I wanted to have the Yellow Dog hunt with me.  For those of you that frequent this site, you know that she does point, thus on paper she should not ruin the hunt by going in and busting up coveys.  The only problem is that she'd never seen a quail in her adult life, and certainly had never seen anything along the lines of a dozen-bird covey.  How would she do?  Would she indeed point, or would I be hauling her out of the field after ruining our shooting?

Here's how it went:

  

I simply could not have been more happy.  

Given my employment condition, the trip was perhaps the most stupid thing I could have done.  However, for the memories I was able to create with the Yellow Dog, I think it was worth it.

At least that's what I'm telling Mrs. YDP.