40 years ago we hunted quail in Naples, Florida in places that are now covered with houses. We were in our vehicles going home by 9 AM because the rattle snakes were starting to move about. The palmetto bushes were so thick you could not see the dog, but when the bell stopped ringing we would rush to the spot we last heard it. When the covey broke it startled me to death despite knowing it would. Fond memories of Naples and Everglades was about the only spot to shoot clays.
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