A full-choked 12-gauge loaded with No. 6 shells combined with binoculars can go a long way to effective hunting without Fido. Photo courtesy of Cal Kellogg.

I certainly get a lot of enjoyment from hunting quail. But for me, the resulting meal is as rewarding as the hunt. This being the case, I take my quail hunting pretty seriously.

Now, are you picturing me as one of those guys with a fine English setter and a high-end 20-gauge over-and-under upland bird piece?

Well, nothing could be further from the truth. I've always dreamed of having a well-trained bird dog, but I've never had the time or space to devote to keeping one. As a result, I've had to develop a hunting strategy that doesn't rely on the help of a pointer or springer.

THEN . . .
Back in my teens, I was preparing for my first quail hunt. I approached it in the same manner as a hunter who has a dog. I picked up a couple of boxes of 20-gauge shells loaded with No. 8 shot, put on the modified-choke barrel and headed out to an area where I'd spotted good numbers of quail during the deer season.

Almost as soon as I left the truck and started working my way through the oaks and brush, I spotted a couple of freshly spent shells. I took this as a good sign, figuring that if more experienced quail hunters were around, I must be in a good spot.

I'd covered about a mile when I saw a lone quail run into a patch of buckbrush about 60 yards ahead of me. Picking up the pace, I started moving in on the brush. I'd scarcely covered another 10 yards when a big covey of birds thundered into the air and flew to another clump of cover about 100 yards away.

I hightailed it over to where the quail had landed, expecting them to take off again. Instead, the birds started running downhill. I could hear them scurrying through the leaves. Determined to cut them off, I circled down the grade. Once I thought I was ahead of the birds, I started zigzagging back up the hill.

A pair jumped up and flew straight away from me. Snapping the gun to my shoulder, I focused on the rear bird and fired. At the shot, the bird dropped in an eruption of feathers.

Thinking I'd scored my first-ever quail, I trotted to the spot where the bird had gone down. Much to my surprise, there was nothing on the ground except for a few feathers! At first I was confident I could find the bird. But after 30 minutes of searching, I had to admit that it had run off.

For the rest of the day, things went pretty much the same way. Most of the birds I encountered flushed well out of range and then melted into the cover after coming to ground.

I quickly came to some conclusions about quail hunting.

First of all, birds that have been hunted seldom hold and flush close to a hunter who doesn't have a dog to box them in. Instead, they flush at the first sign of danger and take off on the run as soon as they land.

Secondly, though quail are small, they can take a lot of punishment. With a dog, finding wounded birds is easy. But without one, your chances of corralling a wounded quail are slim.

. . . AND NOW
Since then, I've been working at ways to tip the scales in my favor. Now, instead of walking through the woods as if I was on a picnic, I use more stealth and try to spot the birds before they spot me.

I've also concluded that I need a gun that packs a punch. Since many of the birds I'd jumped took to the air 30 or 40 yards away, my full-choked 12-gauge stuffed with No. 6 pheasant loads does the job much better.