The white, fluffy fog rolled off the valley, slowly revealing the pine and oak trees that hid the Old Natches Trace. The small cabin was still dark as the sun had not fully risen, and the only warmth was that of the dog laying across the bed. He heard me stirring and lifted his head, and looked at me, as if he was asking what we were doing today. His fur was soft and warm as I petted him. "Let's get ready to go out and get some quail," I answered to his unspoken question. The cold hit quickly after removing the covers that shielded it from my skin. Pete followed me, his nails clicking against the wood floors as we walked to the stove and threw in more wood and filled a pot with water. As the water heated, I slipped on some clothes that can handle a walk through the forest filled with thorn bushes that just love to grab a hold on clothing. After I was dressed, my water was ready to be made into…show more content… The trail was called the Old Natchez Trace, it was a vast trail, extending 442 miles of land in Mississippi, Alabama, and Tennessee. A lot of animals lived along the trail, including the bob white quail we sought. The quail were a great game birds that are always a fantastic meal to bring back home. We continued down the trail, the chain that kept Pete with me was loose as he had not picked up the scent of the birds yet; we were still in too dense of forest for the birds, they preferred open field that have bushes for them to hide in. After a while, the dog started baying, signaling that there was a scent ahead. I loaded the shot gun and put some extra shells in my pocket; the sound of metal on metal clinked as the shell hit a coin in my pocket, it was a dime from when I bought the shells at the general store before heading out. I released Pete and he pinpointed where the quail were and I gave the command for him to flush the birds, "Sic 'em,
