2. New Mexico's Blues and Bobs
The Pecos River country in southeast New Mexico is one of the few places in the region where a hunter can reasonably expect to find scaled and bobwhite quail within walking distance of each other. A mix of agriculture and desert sand covered in mesquite, catclaw, prickly pear, snakeweed, Spanish dagger -- and in the wet years, bunch grasses -- along with an enlightened gulper system provides suitable habitat for both species of quail.

But when the rains don't come (and of late, they've been spotty at best), the country is awash in drifting, shifting sands and tumbling tumbleweeds, otherwise devoid of ground cover. Bare ground adds a whole other dimension to the hunt. Rumors of scaled (blue) quail in track shoes abound. Track shoes or no, these little rascals are speedy enough to rattle even the staunchest veteran pointers, to say nothing of their owners.

Truth is, all desert-dwelling quail run like hell on bare ground. Trust me, on bare ground, the only difference between a blue and a bobwhite is color. And in my experience, little brown quail sprinting like hell are every bit as baffling as little blue quail.

So the scalie swarm was currently vamoosing over yonder hill. Unfettered, Kate gave me that conspiratorial look and took off, hot on the track. We panted along behind as best as geezers can.

Knowing that we were about two decades past actually keeping abreast of the action, we hoped to at least keep the streaking dog in sight. But by the time we crested the hill and reached the far side, both the birds and the dog were nowhere in sight. But . . . by some freak of nature, there was lots of brown grass, as well as other assorted desiccated brown plants. Even the over-story mesquite, catclaw and prickly pear seemed almost lush -- comparatively speaking, of course.

Stepping lightly down the hill, we soon found Kate stretched tight, peering intently toward the sharp edge of a deep arroyo. And then the air suddenly filled with buzzing blue and -- surprise, surprise! -- brown quail.

This rare mixed-covey provided an even rarer (for us, anyway) instant mixed bag.

Moral of story: Find the grass, shoot the birds. Lacking grass? Well, my best advice is to invest in good running shoes for you and your dog.

Season runs from mid-November through mid-February. The daily bag limit is 15 combined quail, with no more than five Mearn's. Possession limit is twice the daily bag limit.

License fees are subject to change, but the last non-resident I bought cost me $75, plus a $5 habitat stamp.

3. Arizona's Dove, Quail Feast
North and west of Wickenberg is Gambel's quail country. Scaled and Mearn's live farther south. Normally, we try to target all three. But do you recall our emphasizing the importance of research, planning, flexible itineraries and the like?

Well, here is a prime illustration. At the last minute, our plan to head south and hunt the trifecta was squelched by reports of dismal summer nesting and brood-rearing conditions from drought, heat and wildfires throughout much of Arizona.

Hasty inquiries revealed our best shots: Gambel's in the Kingman region. So here we were.

We set up camp amid a sea of cholla cactus overlooking a huge sand wash. Next morning, the dogs found several large coveys of 15 to 30 or more birds each. But it soon dawned on us that a wealth of birds does not translate to easy shooting.

Obviously due to the poor to non-existent hatch, young foolish birds were in short supply. Coveys dominated by older, wiser birds required a change in operations -- more carefully executed attacks.

The key, of course, is to find and utilize niches within the habitat --grass, rocks, edges, and thickets -- where the birds might hold. Luckily for us, there were enough such spots surrounding camp to provide 10 days or so of OK desert quail hunting.

That's OK considering the conditions were less than ideal. Typically, six hours or so of tramping results in six to eight flushes of covey. Our best day, we counted 12 coveys, including a couple of certain re-flushes. All in all, none too shabby, compared to almost anywhere else in the country.