The sun cuts the chill out of the desert as it slowly peaks over the horizon. The gravel crunches under my boots, and as I crest the small rise in front of me, I can see Sunny’s rigid body glowing in the morning light. The intensity of her point is in stark contrast to her typical, unbridled, energy. She is singularly focused on the creosote bush fifteen feet in front of her. Her orange-brown eyes bore an intense hole through the center of the desert brush, and as I get closer, I can see her nose twitch incessantly as she breathes the deep scent of wild birds in front of her.

The tranquility of the morning is broken as I step forward and the four hiding quail burst into the air. I whiff the first barrel, but the second barrel finds its mark. In a flash of brown fur, Sunny is on her quarry, and as she trots back to my feet, I could see her smiling through a face full of feathers.

I daydream this moment at least once a day. It’s just about six months until September.

The post Daydreaming – Arizona Gambel’s Quail appeared first on Arizona Wanderings.

For the first time since living in Arizona, I skipped the opening weekend of Arizona quail in favor of heading north to some cooler temperatures, grouse hunting and Apache trout. But in the weekends following, I laced up my boots and braved the heat to chase Gambel’s in the Sonoran desert.

The summer reports seem to be accurate as there seems to be a slight uptick in bird numbers. Regardless, it felt good to get out and work the washes and hills. The weight of a shotgun over my shoulder was a little different sometimes I use one of my airsoft rifles for hunting. At the end of the day I had couple of birds in the vest so I had a welcome feeling after a long off season. Here’s hoping for many more quality mornings in the field chasing quail with buddies.

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I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the desert so green and full of growth. Combine the extra cover with the birds being very shy and quiet, my first morning in the field was a slow one.  DJ and I hiked several hills and pushed a few coveys, but when the smoke cleared, there were only a few spent shells and a pair of male Gambels to show for our morning effort.

A light sprinkling of lemon pepper and a slow bake makes for a simple and juicy post hunt celebration.

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The rest of the neighborhood was still asleep when I backed the truck out of the driveway and eased onto the I10. I was headed south with my buddies, Kyle and Landon to see if we could put a few Mearns quail in our game bags. We would be working behind the hard hunting pup, Chase, in some of the prettiest countryside in the state.

As we arrived at our destination, we saw that the harsh Sonoran desert had given way to the oaks and grasses of southern Arizona, and we shrugged into our vests, loaded our guns, and set out.  We made two big pushes in the morning and hunted hard, but came up empty. Tired and a bit wore out, we settled in the shade, made lunch, and talked about a new game plan.

Recharged from lunch, we set out into a new canyon, faithfully following the relentless Chase. As we worked up the canyon, talking about fly fishing and the trips that we had planned in the coming year, we were interrupted by a covey of Mearns quail bursting from the brush next to us. It caught all of us, including Chase, completely off guard, but Landon was able to get his gun up and knock down a bird. Marking where they landed we set out, prepared for the covey rise and were rewarded for our efforts. The canyon proved to be the mother-load when we found 3 distinct coveys, which made for some very fine shooting. Spirits were high as we made our way back to the truck with birds in our game bags, and we couldn’t believe our good fortune.

We decided to check out another spot, but on our way, I pulled truck over abruptly to watch a covey of quail sail off into the tall grass. I got a good look at one of them and knew that they were scaled quail. Ecstatic at the thought, we quickly geared up and followed the birds through the thick brush. Landon, again with some fine shooting, brought down two birds. We moved further into the field and at that moment, a quail flushed in front of me and I knocked it to the ground with a blast from the bottom barrel. As I walked up to pick up the bird, I was surprised to see that it was not a scaled quail but a Gambel’s. My brief disappointment was immediately trumped by a rush of excitement. I yelled to the others about my discovery and instantly our passive “have a good time” mindset rose to high-strung determination to get the Arizona quail slam – Mearns, Scaled, and Gambel’s all in a day.

It didn’t take Landon long, as Chase quickly went on point, and Landon knocked down a Gambel’s. Congratulations were flying all around as we admired his three beautiful birds beside each other. It was a pretty cool experience to see the three unique male birds all in a row.

Back at it, Kyle and I hunted hard right till the end, making pushes through brush and grass trying to find the elusive scaled quail. But when it was all over, we never ended up finding that original covey of scalies. As the light faded from the sky, we cleaned our hard-earned prizes and talked about the great points by Chase and the shots we wish we should have connected on. In the end, as we drove down the headlight lit dirt road, I knew that I would be back. It was a fantastic day in the field, but it made me want the Arizona quail slam even more.

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The sun has a unique way of complimenting the mountains in Arizona. Whether it’s turning them pink in the morning or purple at dusk, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many beautiful sunrises and sunsets. As an outdoorsman, I have the privilege of being in the field to see these picturesque sights, and on a certain level, I feel sorry for the poor saps who sleep in and spend their days indoors. They seem to miss out on all the beauty that nature has to offer.

On the same line, there’s nothing quite like the beauty of a male Gambel’s quail. From the creamy white chest to the burnt orange head, this beautiful bird stands out to the stark contrast of it’s rough environment. There is nothing quite like holding one and running your fingers over the small intricate feathers.

Although the pickings have been a bit slim this season for birds in some of my usual Gambel’s quail hunting spots, it makes every bird that much sweeter.

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The grass cover was exceptional as it mixed in with the prickly pear cactus. Watching the covey scatter, we slowly eased across the wash and up the opposite hillside. We zig-zagged through the maze of desert plants, and were greeted with single birds holding tight in the thick grasses. It made for a good day of hunting to say the least.

I remember one bird in particular that held exceptionally close and allowed me to walk by him, even after I had given his hiding place a good kick with my foot. Convinced that the bush held no birds, I took another two steps before the same bush erupted with the sound of flushing quail. I spun on my heels and let loose too quickly with the bottom barrel and an unbalanced stance. Righting myself, I took a split second to let out half a breath before squeezing off the top barrel. As if by magic, the quail stopped mid-flight in a puff of feathers and fell to the desert floor.

Holding that gray Gambel’s in my hands, the world seemed to slow. Clairvoyantly, I stepped outside of my self and could see just how lucky I was to be in that moment, on that hillside, holding that bird, with the sun shining down on me. It’s cliche to say, but it’s easy to take for granted just how good we have it.

As if the day could get any better, we sat on the tailgate and enjoyed a few IPAs before packing it in and bouncing our way back to civilization and the women in our lives who understand our need and love of the outdoors. It doesn’t get much better than that.

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My morning started out a bit rocky, but things eventually turned out. As the light was just starting to come up. I bent down to duck under the tree and came face to face with a palm sized tarantula. The end of my nose was about 8 inches away from the rock that his hairy arachnid body clung to and for a moment my world stopped. I stifled the “little girl scream” that was rising in my throat and hurried along my way as the spider did the same. I could hear the covey of quail putting and chirping their way through the heavy patch of cholla ahead of me, and when they finally did flush, I was ready. Despite the spider and shirtsleeve full of cholla, it turned out to be a beautiful day hunting Gambel’s quail.

Arizona quail hunting can be tough and this season looks to be only slightly better than last. I am cherishing these mornings where I can get out and stretch my legs while the rest of the city is sleeping in on a Saturday.

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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.

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Well, the shotgun has been broken down and given a thorough cleaning and the vests have been defeathered and stowed in the closet. The Arizona quail hunting season has come to an end, and as usual, it is a little bitter sweet. It will be sad to not head out into the desert to chase Gambel’s quail on a Saturday morning, but I am hopeful that with steady rains through the summer, next season will have some better bird numbers.

I was able to get out before the close of the season and put a few more birds in the freezer and stock up on a whole mess of soft-hackles for fly tying. The thought of summer and big fish rising to foam hoppers is the keeping my head up. Until next season…

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Antonio and I found a day last week to meet up and break out of our normal fly fishing mode to do a little quail hunting. We headed to one of his spots and found a whole mess of birds that seemed to not have been hunted this season. As has been the case for the past couple of months, the birds were tough to locate until about 9:30 or 10, at which point the quail started talking to each other. We had a great morning, and between the two of us, we knocked down ten birds.

I guess the one thing that I have learned hunting quail this season is that the birds are there if you are willing to work for them.

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