All hail the quail
Old Contemptible, who recalls memorable outings in Africa and beyond
During all the time I have penned screeds for Shooting Times, I have never touched on the tender, toothsome little quail. I can recollect, not so long before World War I, Tom Mighall of Compton Verney, near Kineton, Warwickshire, sending me a vivid account of putting up a bevy of quail, about a dozen, in fact, when cutting his wheat. A brace of these were bagged early in September in splendid condition, and were at first totally unrecognised by the natives.
Well, what became of the other five brace? For quail will do well in any part of the British Isles, on land that is favourable
