A good quail hunt is where great friends and good dogs make memories that stretch beyond the field. Life changes but traditions endure. Turkey Hill Plantation is a sportsman’s dream, a bird haven in a pristine Southern landscape, complete with majestic live oaks, pines, and plenty of wire grass and little bluestem grasses to support the quail, whitetail deer, ducks, and dove.
Today is my first quail hunt but even though I was simply going to observe, I was excited to be part of it all. The road narrowed as I approached a sign that read Turkey Hill Plantation. I pulled through the gates onto a dirt road with a canopy of live oaks that led to a stately white brick two-story house. From there my car bounced along a rustic path, trying to avoid potholes through tall timbers to Log Hall where I came to a clearing and met up with my group and plantation manager, Canada.
A strong wind was blowing as I got out of the car. I wrapped my wool scarf up snuggly around my neck and shoulders now realizing I had forgotten my gloves. Canada led us all inside where a crackling fire at one end of the room warmed us. Morning sunshine cast its rays across wide plank floors. By the time the coffee pot made its final gurgle, we were seated and ready to get our instructions.
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