My friend Ron and I hit a couple of scaled-quail spots on Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning. We did not see a one, which makes me wonder if populations were knocked down by the Blizzard of 2006 and are still recovering.
We covered a fair amount of ground, and of course the dogs covered more. Jack gave the marching orders and then lapsed into Old Dog Mosey Mode.
Ron's Zeke worked hard, though. Here he has checked a stock pond for quail. No quail.
No quail underground either!
Quail hunting on the Southern Plains is thirsty work.
And then there is the cactus. Ow!