‘CALLIN’ BOB WHITE!’

Ol' Bob, himself

          Like I’ve said before, my family’s big on back porch sittin’. Just as soon as the weather warms up enough, you’ll usually find us out back, sittin’ in the rockers and the swing. We talk and laugh and catch up with one another. We watch the calves and new colt playin’ chase down in the pasture, or the nieces, nephews, and grand-kids monkeyin’ around on the swing set out in the yard. Sometimes, we simply sit and admire the flowers and trees and the birds and such.

          But the first time one of us hears a Bob White Quail sound off down across one of the pastures, mine and my Daddy’s fun starts. Now, many of you probably know the distinctive whistle of ol’ Mister Bob White Quail. Yet, I’d be willin’ to bet that very few of you know that of his Missus. My Daddy does, though. And, just as he learned it from his Daddy, I learned it from mine.

          Back in the mid to late 1960’s, Papaw Jennings would come in from the woods where he’d been cuttin’ pulpwood all day, sit out on the back porch of an evenin’, and whistle in a couple or three Bob Whites.

Call ‘em right up to the edge of the porch he would; then POW! He’d shoot ‘em with a .22 rifle. A couple of birds were all it’d take, and in just a li’l while, Mamaw would have a mess of quail and dumplin’s fixed up for them and my great-grandfather, for supper.

'Missus' Bob White Quail

Daddy and I, though, call ‘em in, nowadays, just for the fun of it. And I DO mean fun! In a clear, strong whistle, Daddy’ll let loose with “Pherrrrrr, phee-phee! Pherrrrrr, phee-phee! Pherrrrrr, phee-phee! Pherrrrrr, phee-phee!” In just a bit, ol’ Bob will answer back. A minute’s worth of pause, then Daddy’ll call out again, and Bob’ll again answer.

Now, it don’t take a whole lot to get ol’ Bob White to come in from as far as a hundred to two hundred yards away. That’s one hot-blooded li’l rascal, so’s when he hears that there ‘girl-bird’ a-callin’, he ain’t got nothin’ on his mind but findin’ and meetin’ that ‘new’ gal.

Why, he’ll come in on the run, small wings a-thunderin’ and tiny li’l legs just a gettin’ it. The first time you hear him call out, he may be waaayyy out yonder in the pasture or woods. The next, he can almost be right on top of you. Ol’ Bob gets so excited with ‘passion’ that he throws caution to the wind and barrels right out into the open yard, lookin’ for that girl-bird.

They’ll sometimes run around the house a couple of times, tryin’ to pinpoint where the call is comin’ from. They’ll fly up onto a tree limb, tryin’ to get a better look-see in an effort to find that there girl-bird.

          It’s hilarious to see how excited they get. My Daddy can get ‘em so tore up that they’ll even fly up and land on the rain gutter at the edge of the porch, then fly back down in the yard and pace back and forth at the edge of the screened-in porch. Why, I’ve even seen ‘em climb up the porch steps to peer in through the door.

The funniest thing I ever saw, though, was the time my Daddy had two Bob Whites so wound up that they were runnin’ around the yard, soundin’ off loud as could be and lookin’ for that girl-bird, while all the time dodgin’ the cat what was tryin’ her darnedest to catch the both of ‘em! Now, THAT was funny!

The next time you hear you an ol’ Bob White sound off, give it a try and see if you can’t call one in for your own self. ‘Callin’ Bob White!’ is definitely entertainin’!