Cole's Bucket List

What would Cole's bucket list look like?

Anything to do with hunting, duh.
He was born at McAlister Kennels and through Cole, the McAlisters and I have built a decade long friendship.  
Cole has been my squirrel, goose, duck and rabbit hunting buddy.  He asks that we not forget the deer he helped get too.  But, quail, never.  His mom, pops, siblings... all log many hours quail hunting.  Time to check that off his list.

All aboard Monday morning for Cole's first quail hunt.  David McAlister went through the trouble of crossing the county to procure a dozen quail to put on a hunt for Cole alone.
Traditionally, the quail are placed in hiding among tall grasses.  The hunt master being the only one who knows where all the bird are set.  Then the hunter and his dog go about finding them.
Tradition flew out the window with the covey of quail from their holding box overnight. David was distraught.  I thought it was hysterical that a dozen quail were waiting for Cole and I in his front yard, huddled under a camellia bush.

A new plan was hatched: Cole would flush them out into the nearby field.

The birds had their own plans to fly higher and further than your average quail.  A dozen overachievers.  I'm glad Miss Susan wasn't home to see the shooting start in her backyard.  
Within minutes, we had a bona fide mystery on our hands:  where did they go???

Over yonder?

Over hill.

Over dale.
One by one, the quails' scent gave them away to the Great Colemiester.

He was in sensory overload mode, loving every minute of it.  Cole was finding them in the most unusual places:

He wedged his 70 lb self into 6 inches of crawlspace. 

He is my genius. His nose was right and he was relentless.

I shot one, David another, but Cole wished for us to save our ammo, by nabbing three on his own.

Unbeknownst to all of us, a bird was hiding in the garage.  I was in the loo adjoining the garage when I heard the C-bomb hit.  Cole tore the place up, knocked plants over to get his bird. I'd just finished picking up the debris field when he tore back in for the second bird hiding in the Boston fern.  Miss Susan, sorry for the wake of destruction.  If it's any consolation, he had an absolute blast.

For supper that day, we all shared in quail with mustard and white wine sauce.

Old King Cole preparing to feast.

Huge thanks to David for the adventure and it's delicious aftermath.

Memories made and cherished.