Outdoors: Perdiz hunts offer lasting memories
By JIM DARNELL
The lemon and white Brittney pointer crept slowly through the short grass with her nose full of the scent of perdiz. Then he would stop and then move up some.
Perdiz — like scaled quail — would rather run than fly. Suddenly, from my left the bird burst out of the grass like a brown bombshell. I spun around and touched off a shot that missed. The second round hit the bird hard and he went straight up into a climb as he was dying. Then my partner’s shotgun roared. The climb ended and the bird dropped instantly.
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