Draped in Spanish Moss Quail are only part of the draw at Florida’s Honey Lake Plantation Story by tom keer photographs by nancy anisfield
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have an unparalleled view from my captain’s chair high up on the quail buggy, but I am captivated by the long skeins of Spanish moss draping from a century-old live oak. The combination of a delicate, flowering plant and strapping tree is profound, and when a gust of warm, humid wind blows I’m reminded of a weeping willow in my yard back home. In the past, Spanish moss was used for insulation, mattress stuffing and voodoo dolls, but now the Tennessee walking horses nick their heads and graze on it as if they were thoroughbreds nibbling bluegrass in Kentucky. Here, however, their worn McClellan-style saddles carry bird hunters instead of jockeys. Live oaks and Spanish moss are the hallmarks of Southern plantation life. When they are interspersed with broom straw, switchgrass and lovegrass, you’ll find coveys of bobwhite quail. Honey Lake Plantation in Greenville, Fla., has such courses, but they are also rimmed with hardwood edges. These fields beget quail the way that alder runs hold woodcock, hawthorns gather grouse, and cornfields fill with cock pheasant. This is the Red Hills, a tremendous tract of land that extends from south Georgia all the way down to north Florida. I am reminded of a sort of halcyon days long since passed. A setter and a pointer lock up and we descend from the buggy. It is not my turn to shoot, but I can’t resist a closer view of wonderfully trained dogs – the work of handlers Ed and Shei-
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la Hart – pointing a covey. I kneel and grab a handful of dirt. And when I hold it in my hand I feel an antiquity in a manner similar to when I grab a handful of sand while fishing where the Pilgrims landed back home in Massachusetts. If I ever get near the Mississippi River, I will do the same. I suspect I will easily connect with Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. For today, Tom and Huck might be whitewashing a fence, but Covey and Nye’s Lars Jacob and Covey Rise’s Kelly Waldrop are not. It is a trinity of coveys so to speak, with Lars taking a position to the right of the dogs and Kelly taking the flank. Huntmaster Rick Almarode cuts loose a pair of English cockers that sets into action one of the majestic sites in bird hunting. It almost seems unfair. The pointers and setters cover miles and miles every day in search of coveys of quail. When they find them, the cockers get to have all the fun, even up to the retrieve. Cockers dance and prance, true, but they are fiercely determined little dogs and wonderful to watch as they pick their way through the taller grass. These are Honey Lake Plantation birds, a mix of wild and early release quail, and they know how to find safe haven. Lars and Kelly are excellent shooters, and they each select one from the covey so the cockers can get some feathers in their mouths. The rest they leave for seed. Owner and visionary Bob Williamson, who bought the plan-
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When it comes to Southern quail hunting, the Red Hills are hallowed grounds, and I think about how many boots have been on the ground walking up to an elegant point. tation in 2008, did a tremendous job laying out the five different quail courses, and he manages his land to support a strong quail population. Shortly after, for the first time in a century, Honey Lake was open to the public. We load back up on the bird buggy and move on. When it comes to Southern quail hunting, the Red Hills are hallowed grounds, and I think about how many boots have been on the ground walking up to an elegant point. Maybe the Harts’ dogs have ancestral blood from the other dogs that hunted on the property. But wait, there is a raised hat signifying a point. It’s my turn to add my own footprints to the rich soil’s legacy. I grab my Parker and pop in a few shells. My shooting partner is Covey Rise’s John Thames, an Alabama native who is no stranger to quail. John is telling me
about his last trip, which was for South Dakota ringnecks. He loved it, but I get the sense that he loves anything that has to do with bird hunting and bird dogs. Thames grew up hunting bobwhites, and this covey rise will be a “welcome home” of sorts. We joked about our reaction times being a bit slow. We were coming off a breakfast of eggs, grits, biscuits and sausage gravy prepared by Honey Lake’s outstanding executive chef, Bill Mann. His parting comments were for us to return with a few birds so he could try out a Kentucky-fried quail recipe as a dinner appetizer. We didn’t want to disappoint him. “Get ready. This might be a hatblower,” said Rick, describing a covey of quail so big that the wind created by its liftoff threatens to blow the hat off of your head. “Say what?”
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“A hatblower. There were upwards of 40 birds in this covey last week.” In the afternoons we hear a quail concerto of whistles from all over the property. At this time of day, all stragglers are summoned together. Over a week’s time they grow in numbers, and when the cockers hit the turf, John and I scratch out a few birds from a massive covey of 50 or more. We were already thinking ahead: “I wonder how that Kentucky-fried quail is gonna taste?” I like the way Bob Williamson arranged his layered property. He built a main campus that centers on the stately gathering hall, which includes grand ballrooms, the Whispering Pines restaurant, a pro shop and a meeting space. He then added a wide array of lodging options just a walk away. The lodges, cottages and guest suites feature heart pine and cypress harvested from his plantation and milled to perfection. The appointments of Turkish towels, leather couches, rocking chairs and plush bedding are a plus. I’m intrigued that Williamson hosts non-sporting guests, too. Mixed-use properties tend to be stronger at one particular offering than at others, but in this case, Honey Lake Plantation has raised the bar. Williamson spared no attention to detail with regard to the outdoor pursuits. He arranged the quail courses so guests begin their hunt within five minutes of leaving the main campus and hunt up to within five minutes of their return. He hired the Harts, whose dogs have been staples in the win-
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ner’s circle on the field trial circuit for decades. Add seasonal wild ducks and dove, big Eastern wild turkey and lots of opportunities for wild and early-release quail, and you can see why Honey Lake is a sportsman’s paradise. And you’d be surprised just how many of his wedding parties or red hatter attendees are itching to get out of the meeting rooms and shoot clays at the sport shooting multiplex. Many of their breaks include a bird hunt, a duck hunt, a tour of the ponds to catch colossal bass and bream, or a sortie on horseback. For those who stay in, the full spa offers enough to rejuvenate exhausted spirits. Life’s pace slows in the Red Hills. At Honey Lake Plantation, you’ll find all the connectivity that you’ll need for your laptop, smart phone or tablet. What you’ll probably find, though, is that you’re too engaged in the plantation’s natural beauty and activities to plug in. The batteries will run down and render the technology useless. When that happens, kneel down and grab a handful of dirt. You’ll connect with what’s important. BUGGY BANTER Above: John Thames, Lars Jacob and Honey Lake Plantation’s Huntmaster Rick Almarode discuss bird-hunting strategy from the skybox of the Bird Buggy.
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