Quail Hunting: Does it really taste like chicken?

Rumbling down Route 60, crammed in the back seat of an over-crowded Jeep, the vestiges of Saturday night's debauchery still lingering, I half wished I had stuck to my usual Sunday routine of noontime D-Hall and an unproductive afternoon in the library. But as soon as we rolled onto the gravel driveway and saw Demas Boudreaux standing in front of the 19th century estate that is home to Commonwealth Birding, I knew I'd made the right decision. In front of us, we had an afternoon of quail hunting in beautiful rural Virginia.

We hopped out of the car and headed over to the office, a small building that houses little more than two computers and about two dozen shotguns. Boudreaux, who graduated from Hampden-Sydney College and Virginia Tech University and works as a lobbyist in Richmond, offered us drinks and delicious, homemade pork biscuits. He gave us all a once over and immediately knew which of his guns best suited each of us. We each bought a box of shells and the cursory blaze orange hat.

After settling the bill and filling out a little paperwork, we began the walk out to the reserve to start our day of shooting.

On the field we met our guide, Brian (another Hampden-Sydney alum). The entire Commonwealth Birding staff, including their bird dogs Jake and Bea, was both knowledgeable and fun, creating a relaxed hunting environment while still staying safe and professional. We had a slow start to say the least, which was unsurprising considering two of us had never before shot a gun, but our guides remained patient - albeit, perhaps at some points wary for their lives. After we'd worked all the kinks out, though, the process started running seamlessly: The dogs would find birds and point them out to us, the guides would kick them out the bushes they were nestled in, and we would fire away.

After hitting a bird, we'd track it down with the help of Jake or Bea, "finish the job" if necessary, and toss the bird in the pocket of Boudreaux's vest. For the day, we ended up with eight quail, not including the one we gave to Jake.

After the hunt, we headed back to one of the barns on the estate to clean up our kill. Boudreaux led the way as we began to skin, trim and gut each quail, all while enjoying some ice-cold "liquid bread." I gave the skinning a whirl, but the minute Boudreaux told me to "stick your finger in there and scoop it all out," I decided these things are best left to the experts.

We then rinsed off any feathers stuck to the fowl and Boudreaux bagged and tagged them for us.

Before we left, we all piled into Boudreaux's SUV, and he took us over to an old fort from the "War of Northern Aggression" on the property. This was a fitting end to such a testosterone-fueled day.

We refrigerated the quail overnight and cooked them up the following evening. By Boudreaux's recommendation, we basted them in barbeque sauce, wrapped them in bacon and tossed them on the grill. They came out just as good as that sounds - not to be cliche, but they tasted just like chicken. Though they were delicious, the most satisfying part of the meal was eating something I had killed myself. Rugged and primitive, it just felt right.

If you're interested in visiting the people over at Commowealth Birding, check out their website (commonwealthbirding.com). They've got beginners' packages starting at $125. While you're there, be sure to also check out the Commonwealth Birding clothing line, so you can be properly outfitted for your hunt. They offer a great variety of quality items, including hats, t-shirts, polos, belts, croakies and dog collars. Commonwealth Birding is a private hunting preserve and offers hunts to guests by appointment Sept. 1 through April 30.