Some in my acquaintance call it, indelicately, a kitchen pass or a get-out-of-jail card, this occasional requirement for an excuse to do something extraordinary in the outdoors.
But a smarter man might approach it as a standard public relations exercise or, failing that, crack open one of those books on relationships and plunge into, gasp, togetherness.
For a quail hunter with a jones for the birds of the Arizona desert, the dodge might go something like this: Under the guise of escaping the frozen Colorado tundra for 70-degree bliss, deposit your significant other poolside at some swell resort. The Phoenician in Scottsdale might do quite nicely if you’d like to buy more time.
Having managed this, you’re free to take that bird dog you cleverly hid beneath the pile of bikinis and beach towels off among the cactus for what ranks as one of the most delightful things you can ever do with a shotgun in your hands. Legally, that is.
So much for the easy part. With few exceptions, hunting Gambel’s quail never can be described as effortless. Challenging, perhaps. Exciting, almost certainly. But never cushy or dull.
It all starts with the terrain, a tangle of hostile vegetation with names like cat’s claw, prickly pear, ankle stabber and wait-a-minute bush. Neither man nor beast returns unscathed from pursuit of the Gambel’s, a gaudy little bird whose jaunty top-notch belies a perverse nature that sometimes borders on sadism.
Native to the rugged desert that seems to cover most of the state, the Gambel’s is a perfect product of its environment, notorious for breakneck foot races through vegetation that rips cruelly at the pursuer while slowing the bird not a bit.
When finally flushed, they fly about 6 feet off the ground, darting through tunnels in the brush like a scene out of “Star Wars.” A clean shot at a Gambel’s is something one dreams of. When it finally comes, a hunter generally has been so discombobulated by what happened before that he blows the opportunity completely.
Often as not, a hunter finds himself taking absurd snap shots that, captured on film, might have a sort of cartoonish appearance. After an Arizona quail hunt a couple years ago, this writer spent the better part of a month trying to reassemble his form. Shooting desert quail is as sporting as it gets. Pretty it is not.
“You’ll get every kind of flush imaginable,” said Mark Zornes, an Arizona Game and Fish Department biologist whose rich East Tennessee twang has tracked him through similar assignments in Wyoming and New Mexico.
Zornes directed this expedition to the rocky, uneven terrain northwest of Phoenix in the general vicinity of Wickenburg, where spring moisture four times the norm sprouted a bumper crop of quail.
“The more famous area down south around Oracle didn’t get as much rain. This is the place for quail right now,” Zornes said as he swept an arm in the general direction of a million acres of wild country stretching off northwest toward Kingman. Zornes also touts the even more rugged terrain in Tonto Basin, around Roosevelt Lake.
An ambitious soul seeking an Arizona quail slam – Gambel’s, Mearns and scaled – might try the higher elevations south of Tucson or around Douglas.
Much of this affords public access: national forest, state trust land, a sprinkling of BLM. In Arizona, anyone who carries a hunting license can stroll unimpeded onto state land, a refreshing arrangement that might be considered in Colorado.
“Three-fourths of the state contains populations of Gambel’s quail,” said Zornes, who then proceeded to say how to find them.
“Unlike other ground birds, Gambel’s roost in shrubs off the ground. Usually you’ll find them in the bottoms of draws in desert hackberry and Fremont barberry. Look for the roosts, then follow the birds up the slopes toward the things they feed on: seeds, legumes, green vegetation.”
Gambel’s quail, Zornes said, is a boom-and-bust species whose proliferation is tied to seasonal moisture. Just the right amount at the right time and you’ll have quail all over the place.
“There’ll always be a few and the populations will just explode in good years,” he said. Arizona’s consistently warm climate promotes re-nesting, producing more than one brood a year when conditions agree.
A bird dog with whom you are on good terms and who has a forgiving nature will be of great assistance in pursuit of desert quail. Once the larger coveys have been flushed, singles often will hold for a point in good cover. There’s something about a fine dog on point inches from a clumb of prickly pear that sticks in the mind, if not the pup’s nose.
If the cactus spines get too tough, there’s always a spot waiting back at the pool.
Listen to Charlie Meyers at 9 a.m. each Saturday on The Fan Outdoors, radio KKFN 950 AM. He can be reached at 303-820-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
