As soon as I heard one of my hunting partners yell, "birds," from somewhere behind the treeline I knew I was in deep bandini. From the excitement ringing in his voice the birds were near and action was imminent.

I was in trouble because I was pinned between a tall thicket of catclaw trees and a barbed wire fence. Having left my Kevlar underwear at home there was no way I was going through that catclaw thicket. I would have backed away from the trees to get a better angle on any birds that flew in my direction but the fence stopped me. I had to make a quick decision to move left or right to put distance between the catclaws and me. Too late.

Before I had a chance to move, two grayish-brown blurs just caught my eye as they came out of nowhere at treetop level. Twenty feet or so above my head and aided by a stiff tailwind, they scorched the air above me as they piled on even more speed and blasted over a canal about thirty-five yards behind me, disappearing into thick cover. Call me crazy, but I had a distinct impression of hearing two tiny sonic booms a second later as they vanished from my sight. A badminton racket would have served me as well as the Browning over/under I was carrying. Feathered rockets I’ve heard them called. Indeed, I thought to myself once again.

Gambel’s quail; Callipepla gambelii in case you are interested, though I have been known to employ other nouns, append other adjectives to them, none of which I would want my daughters to hear. But in addition to their distinctive beauty it is their ability to elude even experienced hunters, to leave them scratching their heads in bewilderment and awe, that makes the Gambel’s quail such a wonderful and exciting gamebird. The most advanced computer-created stealth technology does not come close to matching the ability of the Gambel’s quail to literally disappear in front of your eyes.

Three years ago I was hunting Gambel's on the CRIT (Colorado River Indian Tribes) reservation about ten miles north of Ehrenberg, Arizona. The bird numbers were truly outstanding that year, seemingly drawing as many hunters as there were birds. I managed to separate myself from the main herd, getting out into more open, less dense cover. I knew there would be fewer birds but fewer, in fact hardly any, hunters as well. Having once been shot by a careless Gambel's hunter I was happy to trade fewer opportunities to take a bird for the security I felt out there by myself.

It was only midmorning and I was walking with the sun at my back. My GSP, Tocchet, was ranging far off to my right. About two hundred yards in front and to the left of me I heard many quick shots from within the thick cover of a stand of Tamarix, also known as salt cedar. It was obvious that hunters there had busted up a covey of quail and were shooting fast and furious before the birds disappeared behind the trees. I never saw a hunter; only heard the shooting. An escaping bird flew right at me and as it neared I could see it was the more colorfully decorated male. By the time I saw it and got my gun up it had flared its wings and was preparing to land not more than fifteen feet in front of me. I could have shot as the bird was landing but not even my dog would have wanted to retrieve what would be left. No worries though, I saw the very bush, and small at that, into which the bird disappeared. All I had to do was stroll on over there, flush the bird, and he was mine. I kept my eyes glued to the exact location where the bird had landed for I knew the propensity of the Gambel's to run. No movement. Cool.

When I got to the cover I waited for the bird to get nervous by my presence and bolt into the air. Nothing. So I kicked the bush, readying myself for the flush. Still nothing; and I sincerely mean nothing. I finally resorted to stomping back and forth through that bush and that bird was not there. Impossible, I thought. It took me less than five seconds to get to where that bird landed, there was only scattered cover in the area, and still it escaped to safety, leaving me dumbfounded and thoroughly flimflammed. I called my dog to me and got her nose to work. Nothing. That word again! To this day I will never understand how that bird managed to seemingly disappear into thin air. Those who politely chide me for hunting defenseless birds should have been with me that morning.

Tocchet in Gambel’s Territory

Like the upland birds in general Gambel's quail prefer to use their legs rather than their wings. When seen in the open, which is seldom, their legs are like bicycle spokes; distinct and obvious if standing still, but once in motion they disappear with the rapidity of their motion. Gambel's quail seem to glide across the desert terrain supported by an anti-gravity field, not their legs. As has been hinted at, the speed of their flight is legendary. It seems that the instant they take to wing they are at full speed, wringing everything, and then more, out of a set of wings that do not appear to be up to the task. But their diminutive wings have been "designed" by nature to generate explosive flight.

And explode they do. The Gambel's hunter does not have the luxury of waiting too long before squeezing the trigger. Quick decisions and movement are in order and those factors has led to more than one hunting accident, not to mention the loss of my truck's windshield on my last hunt (and no, I was not the shooter).

The Gambel's quail also has the ability to, and will, take advantage of any obstacle. Once airborne they will often dart over or around a tree, a bush, or large rock, and dip in behind it to put the object between itself and the hunter.

But Gambel's quail are no more impossible to hunt than other upland birds. It may take a little more work but the effort is worth the prize. They will do things to put themselves in peril.

First, they are a vocal bird. The hunter who is only marginally adept at using a quail call can often use it to locate a covey when arriving at a likely area to hunt. And if you break up a covey and believe you have seen the last of all the birds, you will often soon hear them calling to reunite the covey if you are patient enough to wait. The hunter can again use his call, but sparingly, while waiting to help locate individual birds. Though my upland bird hunting experience is not as great as others', I know of no bird that is more vocal.

Second, if you can bust the covey up and get it scattered, it seems that individual birds will hold tighter, especially if the cover is less dense. This is where the willingness to put one foot in front of another will pay off for the dedicated hunter. If not already there, go to where the birds were when they flushed in case any stragglers remain. Then criss-cross the area where you believe most of the birds landed to see if you can locate the singles. If you have a good pointing dog you are way ahead of the game. And try not to rush. Be patient. I cannot count the number of times, having scattered a covey, that I have walked past, or nearly over, a tight holding bird, only to have it flush from behind me once I was well away from it. The best hunter for following up on Gambel's I have seen is Mike Dyo of Pasadena, California. He takes his time, walks a few yards and stops, waits with his gun up and ready, walks again and stops. While the rest of us are charging ahead to where we saw birds land, Mike always harvests a few birds that have remained. We both think his approach makes the birds nervous, sending them into the air, and ultimately into Mike's hunting vest.

While being both observant and patient can help you locate and take singles, a good pointing dog with that radar nose will bring greater rewards. My dog, Tocchet, has two pointing styles. In one, she is relaxed; almost seems to be indifferent. I have learned that when she gives me this "point" she is telling me there are birds somewhere far ahead into the wind. She is not very staunch at all and needs little urging to follow up on the scent. Her other point is rock solid, not a muscle moving. There is no way to mistake the message: The bird is RIGHT THERE! Nothing will make her budge. Even if I ordered her to move she would hold that point. I have busted up a fair number of coveys of Gambel's quail and in following up to locate the singles, Tocchet's RIGHT THERE point has resulted in me taking a lot of birds.

Tocchet, with her RIGHT THERE point.

Hunting one afternoon northeast of Tucson, Arizona, my hunting partner, Clint Shaffer, and I had once again found a Gambel's covey and scattered it in all directions. Clint and his GSP, Abbey, went in one direction, Tocchet and I in another. Tocchet and I had not gone too far before she began to concentrate her searching to a very small area. Getting "birdy" as many pointing dog owners call it. She stopped and pointed but held it only a brief time before moving off again, scenting furiously close to the ground. She soon repeated the same pattern: Stop, point, move off.

It became clear to me the bird was moving and Tocchet was tracking it, relocating and stopping when she got a strong enough scent. It was a pleasure to watch. I never once saw the bird on the ground, and as events would prove, it was almost under my nose. Fortunately, the bird had Tocchet's nose to contend with, not mine.

She repeated the momentary pointing ritual at least four times before giving me her RIGHT THERE point. I moved in and got to within five feet of the bird before it flushed to my left. But I was ready for it thanks to Tocchet. It was an easy shot - and of course I missed it. TWICE. I wondered: If I could truly communicate with my dog would she believe me if I told her the gun was to blame? From the look on her face I doubted it. But the lesson is, had it not been for Tocchet and her wonderful desire to find birds, I would never have had the opportunity to prove what a lousy shot I can be. What hunter could ask for more?

Gambel's quail can be seen in or near roadways so keep your eyes open. When on dirt roads we will often drive slowly and hang out the open window of our trucks to look for their tracks. If you are in very dry territory look for patches of green that may indicate the presence of water. If you find it, check the area for tracks and hunt accordingly. There is something else to look for when hunting these birds. Gambel's quail will often have a bird "posted" as a sentry, perched high in a bush or on a rock to give it a better vantage point. I have located coveys simply by spotting the covey's "sentry" bird.

A hunter might get lucky by only "road hunting" but in most cases success usually follows a lot of walking. Again, the partnership of a pointing dog can be immeasurably helpful, and so enjoyable.

Saturday, October 6th, 2001, I was again hunting the CRIT reservation after hearing some pretty rosy reports about the number of birds. The reports were, in my opinion, a little overstated but there were birds to hunt. My partners and I got a few birds down out of covey rises, but by and large most of the birds we took came from following up on singles after a covey was broken up and scattered. It is the best kind of hunting for the dog owner because it gives the dog the opportunity to do what it lives to do. And while it is exciting to see, and perhaps get a shot, out of a flushing covey, in my mind it does not compare to watching your dog go on point, flushing and downing a single bird, then waiting for your dog to retrieve it. On this opening day, Tocchet was rusty at first, going on point early on, but flushing the bird when she took a single step closer. After watching the bird fly away she turned and looked at me. I did not have to scold. She knew what she had done and obviously learned her lesson because she was perfect the rest of the day. Out of the eight birds I brought down, five were off of her points, some of which were simply awesome to see.

Several years ago hunting the very same area, something so funny happened that my hunting partner and I remember every detail to this day. Tocchet pointed a Gambel's quail and when it flushed to my right I nailed it cleanly. The bird, however, fell into a large, thick, catclaw tree. No problem, a few thorns would not stop her from retrieving that bird. I gave a "fetch" command and she assaulted the tree instantly. But as soon as she went in, the quail came out of the top of the tree; clutched securely in the talons of a formidable looking red-tailed hawk. My partner and I, Mike Dyo, began to laugh. But when we saw Tocchet giving chase to the hawk carrying her bird we just plain lost it; Until Tocchet came close to becoming a speck on the horizon, that is. I blew my whistle so hard and so long I thought I was going to pass out, but I got her head turned and headed in my direction again. When I knew she was on her way back to me I started laughing again. It is one of my more memorable Tocchet stories.

Vic with Tocchet make it through another Gambel’s hunt.

Hunting Gambel's quail can be rough on the ego and the body of the hunter as well. But as taxing as it may be for you, consider what your dog goes through. While you are walking, the dog is running, covering much more distance than you. They seem to be magnets for cholla cactus, getting the quills in their gums and tongue when they try to dig the spines out of their pads or legs. Never forget to take a pair of tweezers or something else (NOT YOUR FINGERS!) that will allow you to remove cactus spines from your dog. You will need them for yourself too - guaranteed. It is almost impossible to get cholla spines out of your dog without having them magically transferred to some part of your anatomy. It is some kind of law of nature I think. Lastly, carry plenty of water for your dog and keep a close eye for signs of heat stress, especially early in the season when the temperatures are likely to be higher and the dog in less than tip-top condition.

The heat of the desert, the cactus, the occasional rattlesnake, thirst, sweat, sore feet, and the difficulty in taking Gambel's quail, can all create a certain level of frustration for a hunter. It can truly be a humbling experience. Why then is it so much fun? Maybe because it can be so hard on the hunter and dog. Whatever the reason, I enjoy hunting many different upland birds but none more than the Gambel's quail.