Originally, I was just going to to go camping on my friend’s property and try out some primitive skills I’d been reading about. To do this, I was going to drive and bring a bunch of gear. A few days (maybe a week) before I was to depart, those plans changed. Now I was going to be quail hunting at a private duck hunting club out on the coast on North Carolina. Due to the timetables involved around some of the activities associated with the quail hunt, I was now going to be flying instead of driving.

Driving to my friend’s property is 20 hours round trip. Driving to the duck hunting property on the coast is 26 hours round trip. Umm, what time is that flight again?

If I’ve learned anything from 2020 and this pandemic and all of the restrictions to my basic freedoms, it’s patience and flexibility.

So, I flew down Wednesday evening, got about four hours of sleep before my friend awoke me at 2:30 AM with the decree, “Dave, time to get it.” We we’re on the road by 3:00 AM to make the three hour drive from his place to the coast. From there, we met some friends of his who took us out past Harker’s Island for some salt water fishing. Here are some pictures from that adventure. I’d also like it noted for the record that he stole that Albacore from me.

From there was used the clubs fresh water impoundments to do a lot of large mouth bass fishing.

Friday and Saturday we went out in three separate groups to do some quail hunting. Each group had their own dog and handler. The club has a quail pen so we’d go in and box up 15 or so birds for each group and then the handlers would go and disperse them in the fields for the dogs to find. It’s a very cyclical thing to quail hunt this way. The club raises their own quail, the members and guests use the quail to maintain the shooting skills when it’s not duck season, the dogs and the trainers are utilized to maintain their skills as well. Then the members and guests eat the quail. Circle of life, baby.

Here’s what one of the fields looks like before all of the shooting starts.

The club maintains several fields like this and there’s sorghum and millet and corn around for those that escape justice. The bush hog runs through the area several times a year to main the trails while leaving mini hedgerows for the birds to rest and nest in if we don’t manage to find them. The dogs are pretty good and we manage to find about 95% of them. The problem with birds and hunting like this is that they tend to walk off after they’ve been placed by the dog handlers. Most don’t, but some do.

Evenings were spent by this massive fire pit that measures about 3.5’ - 4’ in diameter just watching in silence over a cigar and a bourbon as the sun slips below the horizon off the point.

All in all, it was a great trip. I was able to relax and unwind and shake off this COViD funk. For a little while at least. My plan for next year, because I’ve already received an invite for that trip, is to just take the week off. I’ll drive down several days early and do some camping along the New River off the backside of my buddies property and then head to the coast.