Hunting birds in the desert has a way of clearing my head. It had been a long morning of hiking hills and busting brush. We had moved a couple coveys, but my vest was still empty. We were making a loop back to the truck when birds busted in front of us. One bird peeled off, and I took off in the general direction. As I crested the ridge, she flushed and gave me a glorious crossing shot. The first barrel missed, but when the second one barked the bird folded to the ground.
One thing is for sure, all that hard work made that one lone quail the tastiest bird I’ve had in a while.