A Georgia Eye-Opener

Discovering quail hunting at Burnt Pine Plantation

Something wrong with that second firing pin?" I marked my bird's fall by lining up the lingering spray of cut feathers with a towering pine far across the field, and then looked over at my host. The dogs were searching for the source of two feathery clouds that hung in the air ahead of him, and he was grinning broadly. There was nothing wrong with my shotgun, a Model 21 that had served me long and well, but I realized that although we already had flushed three coveys of bobwhite quail, I'd yet to settle down enough to try for a double on the rise.

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