As I eased past the two German shorthairs locked on point, I tried to anticipate the feathered explosion that was about to take place.  Stepping forward, gun at the ready and my feet mere inches from their position in the broomsedge, I still managed to be totally surprised by the eruption of quail taking flight

 

The little 20-gauge came to my shoulder naturally, as if it were an extension of my arm and, just as quickly, both barrels emptied.  My initial shot missed its mark as I was a bit behind the avian rocket that had launched to my right, however, the follow-up shot was true, and I dropped my first quail of the day.

 

My hunting partners for the morning, my son Dan and friend Greg Monsour, also dropped a bird apiece from the covey, but there was little time to celebrate as Josie and Rodney were soon pointing again down the lane in front of us.

 

I had been looking forward to this morning for over a year.  It was the renewal of a tradition that my father-in-law had started many years ago, the annual Thanksgiving week quail hunt, and after seeing the first covey rise, I knew it was a tradition worth keeping.

 

For years, Billy “Pop” Hull would take the boys quail hunting near the family farm in Louisville the week of Thanksgiving.  Initially, “the boys” were myself and my brother-in-law Michael Van Veckhoven.

 

As our families grew, so did the hunt, which expanded to include my son Dan and nephew Billy Van Veckhoven.  Dan and Billy both shot their first quail on those hunts, and I have vivid memories of each of those milestones.

 

Many years have passed since our last quail hunt with Pop, and Thanksgiving has changed as well.  In 2019, the year that we lost him, we moved the family Thanksgiving celebration to Oxford for a change of scenery.  However, in 2020 it was back at the farm in Louisville, albeit with a smaller crowd due to the pandemic.

 

The farm had also become our home in 2020, and Thanksgiving 2021 found things back to normal with all the family gathering at our house for the holiday.  Yet for me, something still seemed to be missing from our annual celebration.

 

We relived the quail hunts each year, sharing memories as we gathered around the turkey fryer or dinner table, but I still longed for the shared experience. Finally, I could stand it no longer, and early in 2023 I began reaching out to outfitters to secure a hunt for Thanksgiving week.

 

As it turns out, we’re not the only folks that have a quail hunt tradition that week.  Every outfitter in the surrounding area was booked solid; 2023 was a bust.  When I finally found an outfitter that had an opening for 2024, I booked the hunt a year in advance.

 

When I saw the smile on Dan’s face Saturday morning, I knew that I had made a good decision.  As it turns out, earlier that week I had made another good decision when I decided to hunt with my dad’s double-barrel 20-gauge.

 

The old Stevens side-by-side had been in the back of my gun safe for years.  The last time that I can remember using it was on a dove hunt somewhere around 2005 or 2006.  It was time, and using it also brought back a wonderful memory from my youth.

 

My dad bought the Stevens at Gibson’s Discount Center in New Albany.  I remember standing at the sporting goods counter with him just like it was yesterday.

 

While standing at that glass counter, I held the H&R single-shot .410 that was to become my first gun.  It was the gun that I would use to learn gun safety as well as how to shoot a shotgun.

 

I envisioned all the game that I would take in the moments that I held it and, looking back now, those visions all became reality.  I remember handing it back to the salesman as my dad said, “We’ll take that one.  Now, will you hand me that double-barrel?”

 

As I watched in awe, my dad broke open the little 20 and then snapped it closed and shouldered it toward the sky.  “We’ll take this one as well.”

 

I think about what it took for my parents to buy those shotguns.  It no doubt put a strain on their finances.  It also, no doubt, is why I sit recording this memory today.

 

Those shotguns were a gateway to outdoor adventures for a father and his son.  I shot my first squirrel, first rabbit and first dove with that little .410, hunting alongside my dad and his double-barrel Stevens.

 

Years later, I stood in that same Gibson’s most weekends picking out a cassette tape of the hottest new release—ZZ Top’s “Eliminator” album comes to mind—but I never failed to walk back to the sporting goods section to relive the day that I got my first shotgun.

 

Walking out of the field Saturday morning with Dan, Greg and our guide Blake, I visited that moment again.  I also thought about all our quail hunts with Pop.

 

Before we left, I asked Blake if the Saturday after Thanksgiving was open next year.  If you’re wondering, the morning hunt is now booked—the tradition continues!

 

If you are in the market to make some quail hunting memories of your own, reach out to Blake Johnson and his crew at Hatcher Ridge Quail Hunts in Maben at 662-769-6576.

 

Until next time, here’s to the moments that make the memories, and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.