It is a phrase that stops conversation in its tracks, puts all senses on alert and starts the adrenaline flowing.
The quail hunter who hears, “we got one on point,” is the equivalent of the Daytona 500 fan who hears, “Gentlemen, start your engines!”
It is that moment a trained dog, running freely, never slowing and always sniffing abruptly freezes, its tail straight out and, on a good point, a front foot in the air, his nose pointed at the prey.
If a good shot follows you might remember it but over time it is the working of the dogs and the fellowship of the hunt that remains.
That was my experience a week ago after I was invited on a quail hunt at Hard Labor Creek Plantation by Ted Everett, who owns the 2,600-acre hunting and fishing preserve south of Chipley. he hosts Bobwhite Quail hunts, fishing, other activities like an annual dirt-bike race.
Though an avid deer, turkey and duck hunter, I didn’t know much about quail, had never hunted them and wasn’t ecstatic about the invite. But Everett’s enthusiasm was contagious even if I didn’t understand what he was so worked up about when we first talked.
“We’ve got Dez Young, you know about Dez, right?” Everett said. “His dog Hank had his own show, the first dog to ever have his own show, ‘Hunting with Hank,’ you’ve heard of it, right?”
I hadn’t. I learned that Hank was a Llewellin Setter who did in fact have a hunting show with Dez Young that ran for six seasons, that Hank is in the National Bird Dog Museum Hall of Fame and that he died in 2004 but his Dash carried on the tradition.
And it was Dash, Everett told me, that we would be “hunting over.”
It still didn’t resonate as being the treat it would turn out to be. But every time I mentioned my upcoming trip with my older hunting buddies, I was educated.
“I’m going on a quail hunting trip with this guy who had a dog named Hank that had its own show and he’s bringing Hank’s son,” I told my friend Allen.
“what? I remember that show. Hank’s dead you idiot, what are you talking about?”
I explained about Dash. “You’re still an idiot, but a lucky one,” Allen said.
So a week ago Friday I showed up with a borrowed Remington 1187 semi-automatic 12-gauge shotgun (Allen said showing up with my pump 870 would be an “embarrassment”), two boxes of shells and a knot in my stomach the size of a quail I was sure I’d shoot at and miss.
Everett greeted me first (actually he drove out and found me after I got lost) and he had Young riding with him.
Young hopped out of Ted’s truck, introduced himself and asked if he could ride with me back to the barn, the first sign of why he is so respected in his field. he began unknowingly teaching me why they call quail hunting a “gentleman’s sport.” he didn’t talk about himself, he talked about his dogs. he asked about me and my son. he told a joke. we didn’t talk about killing birds.
It was more of the same at the barn where we loaded up. on this day I was joining Bob Hasiuk, who traveled from Clemson, S.C. for a quail hunt.
“really?” I asked. “is it really worth that?”
“I’ve hunted with Dez before and I wasn’t passing up a chance to do it again,” he said.
Hasiuk and I chatted but didn’t get deep into financial matters. My impression was that he wasn’t some independently wealthy guy who can afford to travel the world chasing famous hunters. if I remember correctly, he’s semi-retired and moved to Clemson, S.C., to be near his daughter who is attending school there, apparently because the University of Georgia was full (college joke). he works part-time at a golf course there, which allows him free golf. and if I understood correctly he’s been saving that part-time job money for this trip.
We set out riding on a small trailer that carried Dash and the other dogs we’d be working with that day and arrived in the quail hunting area. Controlled burns helped nurture the right vegetation for quail — high alfalfa-like plants, undergrowth and bushes interspersed between planted pines in some sections.
Jerry Strickland was our guide, mixing his knowledge of the sport with plenty of humor and good-natured ribbing.
Dash was released and followed Young’s commands, working the area in a grid-like fashion while we followed behind, talking about family, hunting, the weather, and the tips I would need to survive the day as a novice quail hunter.
They really only had two instructions for me: Don’t shoot any person or any dog. we walked in a loose line and it wasn’t long before Young called out the magic words: “He’s on point!”
It is a beautiful sight if you can appreciate the work that goes into a good bird dog. Dash was nearly frozen, the only movement being the quiver of excitement coursing through him as he fought the instinct to pounce and flush.
We moved in, side by side — I took the left and Hasiuk the right — and walked up to and then past Dash until we “flushed” the quail. as feared, it flew in my direction and I missed.
No one cared. as we moved along Young worked his way over to me and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Caz,” he said quietly, “I noticed you approached with your barrel low and you put the gun too high on your shoulder. You always want to walk in with the tip of the barrel right below eye level — it’s a natural flow from there to your shot — and put the butt of the gun lower on your shoulder. Your reaction time was great, try that.”
On the next flush I followed his instruction and walked toward Dash, the bird again busted low and to my left and I fired, knocking down my first Bobwhite Quail, a beautiful male that will join my wood duck, green-wing teal and bucks in our hunting room. (see video online at newsherald.com)
We walked and talked for hours and shot our share of quail and missed our share, too. we took as much pride in the shots we DIDN’T take — the ones where the bird was too low near the dogs, or flying toward someone — as the ones we did.
We took quail close, we knocked some down at a distance. Young took some turns, hitting just about everything he shot at.
But what he really reinforced for me is the bond between a good man and a good dog. My chocolate lab, Jordan, is a trained duck and dove dog but first he’s our family pet, and so it is with Young and Dash.
He carried water for Dash, taking breaks when needed, and spent time tending to his paws to make sure they weren’t getting roughed up in the thorny undergrowth.
I could see why Young is known for not just his ability to train a dog but his likeability, his attitude, his treatment of his dogs as partners and pets, not equipment. one of the most popular segments of his show was his satirical take on spoiled dogs.
“on each episode I’d have a part where I’d warn people to never, ever spoil their bird dog,” Young said. “It started as kind of ribbing dog trainers who think you have to keep your dog in a kennel and only get it out to train or hunt. we treat our dogs like family.”
Later in the morning as Dash tired, Strickland brought out three of his dogs, two short-haired and a Llewellin Setter, and I learned even more. when one dog went on “point” and froze, the other dogs running around would see that and would also freeze. I thought all three dogs had found quail, but Strickland explained the second and third dogs were “honoring the point” of the first dog, stopping so as not to flush the quail too soon.
“That’s what they’re trained to do,” Strickland said. “It’s something, isn’t it? the self-control?”
Those kinds of conversations carried the day. Within a week of the hunt Young had contacted me twice to check in and Hasiuk had sent me a hand-written letter saying how much he enjoyed hunting with me and included a DVD with pictures and video he took of us during the hunt.
That speaks of a sport of gentleman as much as anything, and I’m an official convert.
<a href="http://www.newsherald.com/articles/quail-99850-hears-holy.htmltag:news.google.com,2005:cluster=http://www.newsherald.com/articles/quail-99850-hears-holy.htmlSun, 22 Jan 2012 04:46:47 GMT”>Hunt for the holy quail