Quail Fest 2010

To my tight nit group of quail hunting friends the two and sometimes three trips out into the wild to hunt those elusive little birds has become along the importance of Christmas and New Years. You can guess that the birds on a scale of one to ten in importance of the trip ranks around a four. As far as the yield, some years are banner years and some are not. With the situation of the drought the last three years, they have been mostly not. We'd get birds but not in large quantity.

So, imagine our surprise when my friend Brent pulled the frozen little critters out of the freezer we had almost eighty of them. More than enough for what isn't but should be an annual gathering of the hunters and wives for a quail feast. Quail Fest we call it. Brent held it at his house and took charge cooking the bacon rapped birds on the grill. The rest was potluck with lots of food to be had. It was a great time. Charlie came up with a hilarious list of what should be future Quail Camp Etiquette which I would list but I didn't get a copy. Maybe later.

After the meal, the scotch and the cigars came out and for some reason the women disappeared into the house. It didn't take long for the conversations of the men to completely resemble the questionable discussions around the hunting night fire. Questions like if Colin's fascination with Andrew Boccelli was sufficient enough to cast a pall on his sexuality? And, like just exactly when during the night does scotch begin to taste like spiced rum. Questions like, just how can a grown man get shot by a single BB in the tongue? Does that man hunt quail with his tongue hanging out like Michael Jordan going for a layup. And, was the guy that shot him a really good shot, or a really bad shot?

And, should each of us wear junk protectors when hunting with the likes of us?

All good questions that were never sufficiently answered. We were simply laughing too hard. Yes we are that easily entertained.

Off to Pana this week. Be back a week from tomorrow.

Be well, do good.