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From Humble Beginnings
When I was a young boy, barely big enough to steal another biscuit off grandma's breakfast table, my grandpa, "Daddy Kinch" Musgrove began takin' me to the woods to learn of the "thrill of the chase". Now mind you, these early forays into Mother Nature's wonderland were about as far from wingshootin' behind a pair of bird dogs as a young nimrod could get. The only dawgs, that my kin were familiar with, chased things with fur and horns. We didn't hunt deer 'cause Grandpa didn't like the taste of Uncle Everitt's venison. That's probably 'cause the chase all over Calhoun county had rendered it borderline "musty" and about as palatable as new pair of Carhartt overalls. As a result, our quarry wound up bein' the" limb rats" that inhabited Red and Frozen bluffs on the nearby Chipola River. Don't get me wrong. Totin' a Model 41 Winchester and sneakin' up on bushytails can be awful excitin' for a 10 year old boy. My heart would get to poundin' so loud I couldn't understand why those squirrels couldn't hear the blood coursin' thru my veins and "hightail it" to a safer part of the woods.
Fortunately for me, along those same river ridges, the game we pursued cohabitated with the prince of game birds, Mr. Bob White. At a young age, I already understood what the old men at Uncle Johnny's gas station meant when they talked about the "excitin' flush of those 'brown bullets' from under your feet". I can honestly say that there's probably no one that knows that better than me. My introduction to their startlin' flight came one frosty, January mornin' when "nature's call" made it necessary to poise my backside over a fallen cypress tree. It seems that a covey of "bobs" had apparently decided that same ole' log where I hastily chose to relieve myself would be as good a place as any to spend the night. There's no "rush" I know of that's quite like droppin' your pants and drawers around your ankles and sittin' down on a whole covey of quail just before first light! Let's just say that runnin' around in 20 degree weather after you take off "soiled " clothes ain't a whole lot of fun! It's particularly bad when your grandaddy is the best "story teller" and practical joker in the whole county. The only reason I have lived that one down is that gramps and his cronies have all finally made it to the "happy huntin' ground". I don't know whether the stimulation of the first flush inspired my lifelong pursuit of "birds", but chasin' them and other things that spring from under your feet has become a passion that thrills my soul. Rearin' and trainin' dogs for myself and other folks and guidin' huntin' parties has become a true "labor of love".
Looking for an exciting outdoor experience? Panhandle Pointers and Outfitters has just what the doctor ordered. We feature exciting, yet reasonably priced hunting . Our executive, economy hunts offer challenging upland shooting on the popular "bobwhite" quail. If you are in to "pass shooting", our Continental Pheasant Shoots will provide you with a challenge you won't soon forget.
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All of our hunts showcase our energetic, well-trained, English Pointers and Pointing Labs. Many of our customers swear that our dogs are some of the best they have ever hunted over. As an added attraction, you may bring your own dog and allow him to get numerous opportunities to outsmart our cagey, hard-flying birds on one of our "roll your own hunts". We encourage our guests to take the "walking hunt" and enjoy the beauty of our natural surroundings. However, for those who unable to walk, we have a vehicle that will provide a comfortable outing in the woods.
Come take advantage of our quality, yet affordable hunting opportunities. Oil your favorite shotgun and come see us. You’ll be glad you did!For further information, call Millard Nixon at:: 850-814-6077 (cell), 850-265-4960(home) or e-mail us at pdogman@hotmail.com