It can happen at any time, whether moments out of the truck at the start of the new day or at the end of it all, tired, footsore and cold.

“Don’t take your eye off the dog,” Darren Roe said. It was a lesson we would learn again and again.

Bill Herrick, my companion on the hunt, and I stayed the night before at the Running Y Ranch in southern Oregon. The next day, we met up with Darren, of Roe Outfitters, before heading east into the sunrise on Highway 140.

The day dawned better than we had any right to expect, with a little wind to start. A light snow blanketed the fields, perfect for tracking valley quail behind a pointing dog. We turned off the highway and followed a track through a series of gates and parked next to a corral. Darren followed his young pointer, a German wirehair named Oreo, while Bill and I spread out on either side…

…Oreo whirled and stopped, one foreleg off the ground, nose locked on scent. Darren didn’t trust the point, but…