I’ve been waiting to see that first covey rise for quite a while now. On Friday morning as the sun started to lighten the morning sky, the first birds whirled off the desert floor, and time slowed down. There is still something unbelievable about shooting a bird on the wing. It almost surprises me every time it works and the bird ends up in my gamebag, and sure enough, those birds took flight and everything came together. Gun to the shoulder, swing, and boom. As I held the quail in my hand and smelled the mixture of gunsmoke, mesquite, and the desert smell that clings to the bird’s feathers, I was happy that it was quail season.