Days with the Florida Quail. 
If the quail hunter was to have a country 
arranged precisely as he would wish it, he could 
make but few improvements on Florida. The 
country is mostly open and easily accessible. 
One can go in a wagon almost anywhere, and 
there is always food for your horse and water 
for your dogs, besides plenty of fuel should you 
wish to boil coffee or prepare a meal. Nature 
intended Florida for a paradise for the beauti¬ 
ful bobwhite and has provided him with a 
warm, pleasant climate, plenty of range and 
cover and an abundance of food. Grass and 
weed seed abound and the bloom of the pal¬ 
metto offers palatable food. Then there are 
berries and millions of bugs and insects, and 
with no cold weather and only the hawks, foxes 
and snakes to bother them, no wonder they 
thrive and increase in such incredible numbers. 
Where the saw palmettoes are thick and cover 
the ground in a dense tangle the hunting of 
course is hard, both for men and dog, and it 
is often impossible to get through them with 
horse and wagon. Some danger is also attached, 
for one is liable to run across a rattlesnake or 
even step on it before aware of its presence. 
Many a good dog has lost his life in just such 
a place. High leather leggings are needed, both 
as defense against poisonous snakes and against 
the sharp, knife-like edges of the palmetto 
leaves which will soon ruin the best and strong¬ 
est suit of hunting clothes. Dogs soon tire out 
in such places and are often so badly scratched 
and cut up as to be of no use for hunting for 
days at a time. The wild cactus also grows in 
thick places and its thorns make ugly, painful 
wounds in the dog’s feet. 
There is a species of quail peculiar to Texas 
and the Florida peninsula. It does not differ 
greatly from the Northern bobwhite save that 
it is smaller and darker. Climate is said to 
be responsible for this, but as one finds the old 
familiar Northern type flourishing alongside of 
him, I am inslined to think causes other than 
mere climatic conditions must be responsible. 
The favorite way of quail hunting here is to 
take a horse and light wagon and drive back 
into the open pine woods, or flat woods as it 
is locally called. Here you can drive along in 
the shade of the tall pines, inhale the pure, in¬ 
vigorating air and let your dogs work around 
on both sides of the wagon. When they locate 
a covey you have only to alight from the wagon, 
unrein your horse so as to let him eat grass, 
while you proceed to diminish the quail popu¬ 
lation. The shooting will be in the open, with 
no branches or bushes to obscure your aim, apd 
you will have few excuses for not killing a 
fair bag of birds. 
Distance is deceiving, and although the coun¬ 
try is open, you will have some trouble in find¬ 
ing your birds unless you have a good retriever. 
One great drawback to quail shooting here is 
the trouble one has to keep the game from 
spoiling. The warm weather and the quality of 
their food—palmetto berries especially—is re¬ 
sponsible for this and the birds should be drawn 
soon after being shot. If you are out for the 
day a little bag of salt is not a bad thing to 
have along. Sprinkle a little over the cleaned 
birds and they will keep much better. 
During a wet season much of this back coun¬ 
try is flooded with water and the birds are 
forced on the sand ridges. These ridges are 
often covered with bushes and low branched 
spruce pine, and the shooting is more difficult 
than in the flat woods, but the sport is not 
diminished in the least. At these flood times 
there is some fine snipe shooting also, for they 
sometimes congregate here in countless thou¬ 
sands. As you go splashing along through the 
water you will hear an almost continual “Scape, 
scape” as the little birds get up aroqnd you. 
Shooting snipe is an art by itself. Just when 
you think you are holding your gun at the right 
spot and pull the trigger your bird will duck, 
dive or fly sidewise and your charge of shot 
will only puncture the thin air. We have had 
some tall fun with those birds in past winters 
and have enjoyed some fine eating, too, at their 
expense. 
One time last winter a party of four of us 
drove back into the country for a day’s sport. 
We found quail plentiful and enjoyed some fine 
shooting at both quail and snipe. One of the 
party stayed with the wagon and cleaned game 
and followed along after the balance of us. 
Once while I was at the wagon I heard several 
sandhill cranes calling from a nearby sawgrass 
pond. They soon discovered the wagpn, and 
rising, flew directly toward me. I was in an 
open prairie at the time and had no chance at 
concealment, but trusting to luck I squatted 
down in the grass and waited. On they came 
until almost within range, then seeing me they 
turned off, uttering their harsh and far-reach¬ 
ing cries all the while. Fortunately, the other 
two hunters were near a clump of palmettoes, 
and hearing the cranes coming, concealed them¬ 
selves therein. When the birds were in easy 
range the men arose and gave them a volley 
which brought both to the ground. We had 
sandhill crane added to our menu next day. 
These cranes though numerous are very wary 
and exceedingly hard to approach. They are 
much sought after by sportsmen. 
One quail hunt I had last winter I remember 
both for its discomforts and its pleasures. My 
father, brother and myself set forth one rather 
gloomy after-noon for a long sand ridge seven 
miles back from the settlements. Our original 
intention was to hunt deer, but circumstances 
turned it into a quail hunt instead. We reached 
the site of one of our former camps and spread 
our tarpaulin over the wagon, thus shielding 
our bedding, provisions, etc., from the dew and 
rain, both of which were over-plentiful during 
this hunt. Tethering out our horse that he 
might graze, we set forth to shoot a few quail 
for supper. Moving down the ridge we found 
the birds plentiful, and becoming, engrossed with 
the sport, we kept on in spite of the fact that 
darkness was coming on apace, and we were by 
this time scattered as badly as the birds an 
quite a distance from camp. Suddenly a showe 
came up Florida fashion, with scarcely an 
warning, and by the time I arrived at camp 
was pretty well soaked and it was dark. Afte 
caring for the horse I built a roaring fire an- 
prepared supper, then changed clothes and fire', 
my gun at intervals to direct the others to canq 
They finally came in and we gathered togethe 
under the shelter we had erected and ate suppei 
after which we spread our blankets and la 
down, talking and enjoying the warm cheerfu 
camp-fire until sleep overtook us. 
Bright and early next morning we were uy 
had breakfast eaten and were ready to start oul 
It might be well to state here that one of ou 
party partook of nothing in the way of eatable 
except fried quail and in no small quantities 
either. When he took sick later on in th 
morning he blamed it on my cooking. W' 
hunted hard until almost noon and found a fev 
old deer sign, but nothing fresh, whereupon i 
was proposed to finish the day with a quai 
hunt and break camp in the evening. All readib 
assented and w 7 e were soon playing havoc amon| 
the little brown birds. They were on that ridgi 
in countless numbers and we enjoyed fine spor 
during the afternoon. _We had well filled gams 
bags when we arrived in camp late in the even-: 
ing. I cleaned them all and hung them upor 
one of the poles which supported the tarpaulin 
While absent from camp another shower came 
up and all the accumulated ashes and soot rar 
down over those quail, completely ruining them 
for table use, for no amount of washing would 
take off the black or eradicate the taste of pine 
wood soot. There was no other alternative 
than to throw the entire bunch away. 
We had intended to break camp at once, bul 
once more the rains descended and the floods 
came. Water covered the woods everywhere-. 
Every thing in camp was wet. Father had a 
splitting headache and we were all weary. How¬ 
ever, when the rain ceased we started home¬ 
ward with water half way up to the hubs of 
the wagon most of the way. We ran into a, 
camp of Seminole Indians and found them all 
gloriously drunk. Jack-’o-lanterns danced about, 
through the woods in all directions. The night 
was very dark and I do not think there were 
very many logs or stumps in those woods that 
the wagon wheels missed. We were bumped 
and jolted unmercifully, and taking all in all 
I believe it was the most miserable, longest 
short ride I ever experienced. 
On another occasion the same party, plus one 
more, drove back to a fine hunting country on 
the same ridge, but much further south and 
near what is locally called the Red Bear cypress 
swamp. We enjoyed fine quail shooting on the 
way and reached our destination early in the 
evening—it is evening in Florida after 12 
M. The site of this camp was a very 
pretty one. Giant cypress trees, loaded with 
streaming Spanish moss, loomed up on one side 
and on the other a forest of scattered, stunted 
yellow pine stretched away for some distance, 
