As I stare out my new wood shutters, I remind myself that I’ve been wanting a hunting dog ever since I was a boy. That longing has grown infinitely stronger over the past years as I’ve hunted the desert birds solo. Friends have been kind enough to invite me along and hunt behind their pups, and I relished every opportunity to watch their dogs work. The timing finally worked out and one of my hunting buddies contacted me about a 6 month old female GSP needing a hunting home. After some consideration, my wife said yes and we welcomed Sunny girl into our home.

The first week was a bit wild as everyone adjusted to each other, but Sunny, Jojo and I met up with my good friend Kyle and his 8 month old GSP, Riggs, for a little bit of field work. It was Jojo’s first “hunting trip” and our first time watching Sunny work in the open desert. She ran her heart out and then wound up pointing a couple of planted pigeons. It was a promising start, and I can’t thank Kyle enough for showing us the ropes. We’ve got lots of work ahead and we have our hearts set on hunting season.

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It is only now that I realize, I’ve worked myself into a real corner. I try to blame my wife, but with what little I know about the birds and the bees, I’m pretty sure I had a hand in it. All three of my children were born on the opening days of Arizona’s bird seasons. My son was born on the first day of September on the dove opener. My youngest was born at the beginning of October which makes it extremely tough to get out to chase Gambels at the beginning of quail season. And my oldest started it all off by entering the world at the beginning of December which means her birthday party is usually on the weekend that Mearns season starts.

All this means that my hunting season openers are postponed this year. This worked out in my favor when I finally grabbed my shotgun and vest to chase Gambel’s quail. It’s been unseasonably warm here in the desert as the normally cooler weather was late in showing up. I found a morning to break away and scratched out a trio of birds.

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After a couple of hours, we had a big pile of Eurasian Collared Doves sitting on the tailgate. This  non-native invasive species of dove has flourished here in the desert of Arizona (and around the rest of the country for that matter), and subsequently there is an unlimited daily bag and possession limit combined with a year round season. With the shooting over and all of our shells picked up, I stood looking at the mound of birds and knew that the real work was about to begin. Plucking a tailgate full of doves is no small task. So, I took my pile of doves home and enlisted the help of my kids, who are always interested in knowing what I brought home for dinner.

With the doves plucked, cleaned and safely in the freezer, I saved a bakers dozen for a recipe that I’d been wanting to try for a while – Dove Pot Pie.  I had found this recipe on the Field and Stream website and saved it for just such a time. Long story short, it was a pretty involved recipe but turned out fantastic. The whole family loved it and my wife went back for seconds.

I revel in the moments when I can include my kids in the food preparation process and show them where our food comes from. Plucking and cleaning birds is just the start. I’m already looking forward to wandering through the desert, forest, and streams with them.

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There is no doubt when I married my wife, I married up. On this past Mother’s Day when we went camping with our best gear from Survival Cooking, I asked my beautiful 18 week pregnant wife what she wanted for Mother’s Day. I expected the usual: a day to herself at the spa, but instead, she decided she wanted to go camping.

How could I say no?

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The afternoon before turkey season opened, we got the truck stuck in a snowdrift that covered the road on the way to our camp spot. It took us several hours of digging and hauling logs and rocks in order to finally free the truck. By the time we finally pitched our tents and built a fire, the sun was going down and the temps were dipping towards freezing, so we opted to fill our bellies with red meat, potatoes, and a nip of bourbon.

The next day unfolded about as perfectly as any day of turkey hunting can, which was great since we love to hunt using rifles and even bows as the ones you can see in this Review here. I screwed up our first setup on a tom gobbling his head off, but our second setup worked out pretty well. Austin shot a real nice mature bird that came into our mid morning setup. After cleaning his gobbler up and getting ready for the packout, we decided to make another set up on our way out. After a hen came clucking in, a young jake wandered in from the opposite direction. I couldn’t resist and knocked him down for a nice double bird day.

It’s not often that things work out like this on this hunt. I felt blessed to have a successful hunt and still have the weekend to spend with my family. After cleaning and stowing gear, it seems like a long time until the fall hunting seasons kick back on.

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Hunting with Pat Flanagan on his guide’s day off is no picnic. After walking through Mearns country all day, I began to imagine that if he took off his boots, you’d see goat hooves instead of feet. I guess that’s what happens when you guide for quail in southern Arizona and chase your pack of shorthairs up and down those hills.

Watching his dogs work out the birds was a thing of beauty. Their dark bodies weaved and crossed in front of us through the yellow grass, occasionally circling back for a gulp of water before plunging back into the golden landscape. Pat’s dogs lived up to the hype and found us multiple coveys. The ice cold Modelas and tailgate full of birds at the end of the day was worth the work.

As quail season winds to a close, I can’t help but ponder over the days in the field spent by myself and with friends. I know that it’ll be a couple long months before I’m watching a covey flush and bringing the shotgun to my shoulder. Until then, I’ll be living off of days like this, replaying the day’s events over and over again in my mind.

Pat runs Border to Border Outfitters and you can hunt birds with him from Minnesota all the way to Arizona and everywhere in between. Check him out at Border to Border Outfitters.

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I’ve been living in Arizona long enough, and it was time to hunt coues deer. I was able to pick up a tag for one of the southern units and with a little help from my buddy Ed at Gameplanner Maps and countless hours of the Jay Scott Podcast, I had a pretty good idea of where I needed to go and what I needed to do. Although I’ve spent a little time behind binoculars, I still never feel real confident about finding animals in the field, especially coues deer who are touted as some of the toughest creatures to find.

I snuck out of work on Thursday and was setting up camp mid afternoon. This allowed me a little bit of time to get out and glass the evening in hopes of turning up a buck before opening day. With no luck, I  turned in for the night. The next morning found me on a high hill glassing some ridgelines, but I only saw one deer at first light and never saw it again.

Around mid day, I decided to switch up positions and get to another vantage point with better afternoon sun and shadows, but found another set of hunters there. Dismayed, I decided to work some lower country and work my way back into some different country. Within an hour I had picked up two does, and I watched them as they fed into some thicker brush. Confident they didn’t have a buck with them I repositioned myself to look at another hillside and I immediately found two small bucks feeding down the hill toward a canyon. I watched them for a few moments and knew that if I didn’t act, they would get into the bottom of the drainage and I would lose them. Grabbing my rifle and binos, I snuck down the hill into a managable 200 yard range, found the deer again in my binoculars and made a quick shot that dropped one of the small bucks where he stood.

I gathered my pack and tripod and hiked over to where the deer lay. I sat there looking at the deer incredulous at how fast everything had unfolded and said a quick prayer of thanks before beginning the work. With a heavy pack, I walked the mile back to my truck with a huge smile on my face. My good friend Kyle was there to greet me, as he had come down to help me out the next day. With the hunt complete, we enjoyed venison backstraps cooked over an open fire and talked about the upcoming Mearns quail season. I couldn’t have asked for a more rewarding hunt and am grateful for venison in the freezer.

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We took Jefferson’s advice.

“A strong body makes the mind strong. As to the species of exercises, I advise the gun. While this gives moderate exercise to the body, it gives boldness, enterprise and independence to the mind. Games played with the ball, and others of that nature, are too violent for the body and stamp no character on the mind. Let your gun therefore be your constant companion of your walks. Never think of taking a book with you. The object of walking is to relax the mind. You should therefore not permit yourself even to think while you walk. But divert your attention by the objects surrounding you. Walking is the best possible exercise. Habituate yourself to walk very far.” —Thomas Jefferson, letter to Peter Carr, 1785.

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After a scorcher of an Arizona quail hunting opener, I sat in the shade of the backyard enjoying the cool breeze. My little girl stood at my shoulder, listening and watching as I told her about my morning and showed her the pictures from my time in the field. She held the male Gambel’s in her small hands, examining his feathers, commenting about how soft it was, and asking about his topknot. I took my time and chose my words carefully as I explained why I went hunting and ultimately where our meat comes from.

Post skinning and cleaning, we breasted out several birds and prepared the fixings for quail nuggets. Dunk in eggs, roll in breading, and straight into the cast iron skillet. A few moments later, we were dipping fresh quail nuggets into honey mustard sauce. It was a fine way to start the weekend and the Arizona quail hunting season.

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Mearns season opened here in Arizona and I headed south with a couple of buddies on our annual pilgrimage to hike the southern hills and see how the Mearns quail faired over the winter and summer. We had an action packed day with plenty of birds on the bag and an epic tailgate lunch. By the end of the day, all three of us had completed the Arizona quail slam with Mearns, Scaled and Gambel’s quail in the game vest. Arizona quail hunting at it’s finest.

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