I walk toward an orange and white English setter that is as motionless as a leopard before the pounce, the dog puffing quail scent like a man drawing the flicker of life into a cigar. I am only a two-hour drive from Atlanta but feel more like a half century removed from the city’s pace. Tucked into the north Georgia hills is an improbable escape that, at first glance, appears like the set of Mayberry.
Barnsley Resort, a 3,000-acre getaway, is a playground for outdoor lovers—including quail hunters who journey here to experience well-trained pointing dogs as they fulfill the promise of their genes—that is, to find and
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