Field Eats Video

Quail Stir Fry

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Steven Rinella fries up a quail with salt pork snack before heading back out for an aoudad.

One Response to “Quail Stir Fry”

  1. woodswoman

    Enjoyed your show last night. Even though you didn’t get the Aoudad I can sympathize with you. So it got me to thinking on my past experiences as it reflected in your show. By the way, love the way the show is filmed. Whomever is doing it has mad skill. Why is it when you go to hunt, the quarry always knows to come out just as the light is failing which makes it hard for you to see? I think those Aoudad were organizing against you. Probably up there behind those rocks snickering at you. Which brings me to a personal story (which I’ll recollect two for you). One evening my dad says to me, “Howse about you crawl up there on that buck barn and shoot one of those deer out there in the field?” Of course I eyed him with trepidation. This wasn’t the first time he had conned me into doing some questionable stuff. So he leaves and I go crawl in the deer stand. As the light starts to fade I wasn’t having any luck so I decided to go to the house. Undoubtedly I was ‘thinking about it’. So I saw the ladder which he so crucially left there and decided to crawl up. Safety first, I made sure the rifle was laying flat- business end away from me. I petered up on top of the Roanoke buck barn. Much to my dilemma I realized that I didn’t have a chair so I was sitting on by rear. No tripod to steady the gun, I figured I would just wing it. Sure enough the light begins to fade over this field of broom straw and beige grass. I was thinking this was the stupidest thing I had ever done (which now upon recollection—probably not). I started scoping with this rifle. I realized that I saw movement. I knew it was a whitetail. That was when it became sketchy. My angst is the time at which the light becomes so low that you can only decipher movement and shapes. You can’t really tell if it’s a big one or a small one. I run though the allotted questions:
    1. Should I shoot or not?
    2. Is it a buck or a doe?
    3. In this light, if I shoot will I ever find it?
    4. Is it worth my time?
    5. Should I just give up on this and wait for better light? Of is it on to me and my doings?

    Then that little spirit on my shoulder gets all upset and says to me, “Why are you talking to yourself -shoot and ask questions later!”
    So I acquiesce because I wanted something to go in my freezer. Sometimes, depending on what I am after, I get a little too excited then start shaking like Barney Pfiff before I shoot. This time I was calm as a cucumber because I was intent on making this shot which was basically going to be in the dark. Don’t worry though, because knowing the property, no pedestrians were harmed in the harvesting of this deer. I cracked off a bullet from my rifle, laid it down and called for help. My dad was strolling around with his cane in this field grumbling that I was wasting his time with my faulty shooting. I told him I hit it-more retorts. Finally my dad’s schnauzer made a sniff/whine. I looked on the ground around where she was laying and there was less than a teaspoon of blood which I followed just inside the pines. I shined the flashlight and finally found it off of the eye-shine. Sure enough I had hit it based on – what looked to be – a small moving shadow. I was using a Marlin 30-30 circa 1970’s; just like the Rifleman but that was a Winchester Model 1892. My watered down cousin told me that it looked like I had shot a distance of 326 ft (maybe his eyes are bigger than his stomach?) but my understanding is the gun shoots 200 ft. but my dad said he had been ‘doing some adjustments’ whatever that meant-lmao. They were satisfied with the fact I had ‘laid it over‘.
    As far as Quail, my mother use to raise quail. We had this old red cow named Molly. So this cow must have smelt the grain in the quail pen. Her strategy, as cows do plot and plan, decided to lick the latch off. So we’re out there watching this cow, licking away. After running her off and checking the latch it seemed to hold her out but that cow was not to be stopped. Late in the night, she crept. Licking the pin right out of that latch. We found her the next morning head deep in that pen and not a quail to be found. Not to be undaunted my mother looked at her three offspring and said, “You three are catching those quail.” She expected this to be done by hand? We looked at each other then regarded the cow who stood there chewing cud. Besides, all evil villains of the story remain aloof. At this point, the cow was the Butler and she did it! Some of the quail, looking for the evening feed came back but the ones that made it to the woods proved to be harder. We were running around in the bushes with coveys of quail flying up everywhere and getting absolutely nowhere with them. Nowhere.

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