Reviewing the 2009-10 Hunting Season

For me, the 2009-10 Hunting Season is finished. The Hunting FY ends after Turkey Season is kaput. It’s time to analyze this past year and commence preparation for next. Besides, my energy levels are toast, and I’m ready to put ‘er in port for a while. The May Malaise – an awful affliction related to Mono that renders one totally fatigued and incapable of arising at the butt-crack of dawn for any reason – is in total control now. So let’s take a deep breath and gander back at the year that was.


The Highlights

Gator Hunting, no doubt, was one of the most exciting times I’ve had. What a fun way to kick off a hunting season. A bunch of buddies in a boat, stalking the red eyes of Mr. Grins across Polk County lakes. Hooking into one of these bad boys is a thrill, and the teamwork required to put one in the boat safely is a huge part of the buzz . Neither of the gators we took on my tags will awe the serious lizard hunters, but for my inaugural season, it got no better.


A day in North Carolina will live forever around the campfire as long as I'm alive to re-live it for everyone's pleasure. I’d taken a snooze in the stand to fight back a foggy head from the late night drive into town and awoke to two does standing in the dried out soybeans. Two shots, two kills. While on the phone telling Carolyn about it, another pair came running up the length of the field. Cracked a third, and, figuring I shouldn’t get too greedy, let the other one walk. All shots were over 200 yards and filled my freezer for the winter.

My first Georgia quail hunt won’t be withdrawn from the memory banks anytime soon, either. On a beautiful plantation with my soon-to-be-wife and in-laws, we had a fantastic shoot. The dogs worked hard as did the guides. It’ll be hard to let another December pass without a bobwhite extravaganza included.


A few others – the annual Christmas hunt in Sarasota County. Close friends and a perfect stress reliever after the busy holidays. Hunting in Levy County with long-time hunting buddies. It’s always more of a steak and bourbon affair, but I did pop a couple hogs.

The Lowlights

Missing the turkeys. You can surf back through my archives on this. And I still have another punishing tale to write once I muster the strength to do so.

Bow season. It was so blazing hot through September and October; the deer movement was about non-existent in Manatee County. On my last bowhunt in January on public land, it was the coldest day in the last 30 years in the Sunshine State.

Duck season was disappointing as well, but mostly from my lack of attendance. The few times I did make it out, the birds just didn’t cooperate. Friends still make these trips worth while.

The Enemies

Mother Nature proved, once again, what a fickle wench she can be. The extreme heat, the extreme cold. Just a weird weather year. The acorns didn’t fall until late, and the pollen in the Spring was intolerable. With the rain in between, some of the best-laid plans crumbled.

Something New


We went over gator and quail hunting. A trip to Lake Toho in September to shoot moorhen was fun – bet I can scrounge up some interest for a .410 tournament this next go-round. I scouted plenty of WMA’s I had not been on and look forward to hunting in the coming years.

My Hunting Plans for 2010-11

The quota season is getting close. Applying for hunts at…oh, wait, I’m not saying! Potentially, this year’s deer season can stretch from July to February with careful planning. There’s talk of bowhunting the heat and lightning in the South Zone for velvet bucks this August. Gator hunting permits will go online soon. You can bet my name will be in that hat. There’s a fleet of coyotes on my lease that I’ll have to tangle with sometime soon, as well as herds of hogs that need thinning. Gonna try to plant a dove field. Will also forgo bowhunting during that week in September when the early duck season is open. North Carolina in November is a-go. And who knows what else, especially with turkey. The hope is a strong tonic against the malaise.


Finally, thanks to everyone who reads my nonsense on a regular basis or even stops by, tricked by a fancy headline. The Lakeland Ledger runs a feed through its site, and I apparently haven’t written anything too offensive to change that. Same with Central Florida Online helmed by Marialice Quinn, a big supporter and source of encouragement. Trying to get the Orlando Sentinel to run a feed - feel free to e-mail them on how you feel about this.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention followers on blogspot, Backcountry Sportsmen, USA Hunting Pros, The Outdoor Show, FS Forum, NWTF, Mossy Oak, Florida Fish and Hunt, and The Wildlife Pro Network.

If any of ya’ll have any suggestions or tips to share about the site or hunting, holla. (And you can always subscribe by using the application on the right side of the page!)

Kinda weird chaptering the last nine months into such a short article, but rest assured, they were a fun nine months, regardless of how the hunts turned out.

Cheers to you and your hunting seasons!

My First Georgia Quail Hunt

My single most embarrassing maneuver of the morning was lining up on a sailing quail and hearing the firing pin slam an empty chamber as the ladies in the buggy snapped digital photos of the covey rise.

“And, in this picture,” Carolyn said later, “is where you didn’t have a round loaded.”

I’m a boob. And in front of the guide, too, whom I thought I might have been impressing with my wingshooting acumen. That and not pulling the trigger on low-flying birds that could harm his very expensive dogs. “You shoot 'em, you buy 'em” was the motto here, and, Lord, do I not have the pennies for that. This blunder was good for a laugh, however, and earned reminders to load my gun as we approached every other point.

For a spell afterwards I went into a funk, whiffing on birds that flushed too close and zipped from right to left, pulling my cheek off the stock and sending the wad and lead through their vapor trails. I ended the day on a high note, though, downing my last two birds on consecutive shots. All in all, not a bad outing on my first Georgia quail hunting trip. 31 total birds in hand, and plenty more left in the bush.

We hunted Piney Creek Plantation in Dawson, Georgia. Our group consisted of Carolyn and me, her brother, Houghton, and his wife, Tiffany. We stayed in the company of Carolyn and Houghton’s aunt, Emily Williams who breeds and trains English Cockers and other bird dogs in Albany. The weather was gorgeous, property beautiful, and our guides Bill and Sonya easy, knowledgeable company. All in all, it was an A+ event.

Knowing what I know about the quail hunting business, I expected the picturesque cabin, manicured and managed land, and the fantastic guides; I didn’t expect how much I would come to appreciate the art of the dogs. Though I’ve seen dogs run deer, catch hogs and retrieve ducks, this was a totally new experience. The training and effort afforded to these animals to produce this service must be immense, and I aim to learn more.



We hunted with a combination of English pointers and German Shorthairs with the Cockers called in to flush and retrieve. And they knew their business. I’d long read of the majesty and professionalism of these animals, but it took witnessing it firsthand to really admire this style of hunting. Words really fail me here to relate the poetic pageantry displayed by these hard-working, enthusiastic animals. You just kinda have to see it. One dog, an English pointer, Dan, held a point for at least five minutes as we searched for him among the tall broom sedge. I don’t think so much as a leg quivered as he waited for us bumbling hunters to come claim his prize. Luckily, I didn’t waste his patience with a miss.

Other birds were more fortunate. Houghton was dealing, and I held my own, but when you’re hunting animals that blend perfectly with the terrain, the unexpected flush as a covey is being busted will throw you off your game. Even when you know it's coming doesn't mean you won't eventually shoot stupid.

Case in point, we’d – I say “we” when I mean Buddy, Yancey, or Pearl, the flushers – jumped a covey of maybe a dozen birds. To my right and behind me, a lone hen flushed wild. I whirled around in a corkscrew, completely off-balance and way-laid plenty of vegetation. Had this been a British slapstick comedy, I’d spun in a complete circle until I fell to the ground, shooting as I hit the flat of my back. Then the birdshot would have rained down on me. Surprisingly, it didn’t come down to that.

But, man, those dogs. Rock solid. And the birds cooperated. These were released birds, no hiding that fact. Maybe I just don’t know the difference, but they fired up like rockets and vacated the premises with extreme prejudice. At one point, I dumped three in a row – in full view of everyone – as they zoomed out of a patch of corn stalks. How the dogs found them in that mess is beyond me. It’s just what they’re bred to do, I suppose. And I got a couple kudos.

Bill was the man, and his reputation with me didn’t just get lucky with a fruitful day of shooting and nice weather. I’ve been around quite a few hunting and fishing guides – not all are as accommodating. After my brain fart with the empty chamber, I swung on another bird I probably could have scratched down, but I’d lost my bearings on where the buggy was thus neglected to shoot. Turns out it wouldn’t have been within the scope of my swing, but he still offered a pat on the back for not firing. Know plenty of Gung-Ho’s who probably wouldn’t have. Of course, I’m sure he’s seen it all. Competence comes in many forms.

He carefully maneuvered Houghton and me to be in the best position for a shot. I don’t know what all the whistles and commands meant that directed the dogs, but they sounded good, and, as I said, the dogs performed admirably. Houghton, by the way, gets the award for completely stripping the most birds of their feathers. I couldn't hit those that flew too close - try it before you comment. He made it look routine, and as an added bonus, most these victims hit the turf already plucked. Looked like he was blasting snowballs.

After we’d secured the shotguns for the day, we meandered around the property near the lodge. In a timber pit behind the cabin, mallards swarmed down to the water, exciting this wannbe duck hunter. Told Bill it was giving me heart palpitations and he laughed as we said our goodbyes when a mallard quacked down on the pond and I instinctively cracked my head around to catch a glimpse. He knew quickly I’m eat up with this hunting stuff.



I don’t know much about quail hunting - not sure how to write about it to do the hunt proper justice, to be honest with you. You ride in the buggy until the dogs go on point, hop out, load up, walk to the pointers slowly, then put the flushers on the covey. Your only real job is to try not to vomit awful shooting all over the place. That's the cheat sheet. Actually doing it has to be experienced.

Over the years I’ve traveled many a weary mile to Georgia and back for deer – I’ll tell you what, I wouldn’t hesitate to pile more on for these bobwhite at Piney Creek.

Or the ducks.