The territory out of which Early County was formed was obtained by Gen. Andrew Jackson from the Native Americans in 1817 at the conclusion of his march through their territory in southwest Georgia. In 1818, the legislature of Georgia divided the land into three counties, Early, Irwin, and Appling. Early County received its name in honor of Gov. Peter Early, said to be one of Georgia's purest and ablest statesmen of the day. From 1857 to 1923, the county's 3,750 square miles were divided into a total of 10 counties, leaving Early with only 514 square miles. From the very beginning, agriculture was the dominant industry, and Early County became known as "the Peanut Capital of the World."

It is hard to say exactly what it is that makes friendships develop. There is certainly the bond of common interest. But friendship is more than that. It grows stronger with shared adventure, shared pain, and shared laughter. ?I have a better insight into why you enjoyed those trips to South Georgia,? Ruth said after ?proofing? the chapters for me, but she expressed concern that some of the stories might be too ribald for the grandchildren to read. But I am only relating what was said and done as best I can remember. When I told Paul that I was writing about the trips, he also suggested that I might not want to tell it all. But I did ? all that came to mind anyway. To really understand, you?ve got to know it all. The stories in this book are about the annual quail hunting trips Paul and I made to Early County, Georgia over a period of twelve or so years. More than that, the book is about the friendships that four men developed and the bonds that grew over the years. William and Paul lived in the same dormitory when they were students at Auburn University in the late 1950?s. During that time they began making a yearly trip to quail hunt at William?s family farm just north of Blakely, and after Paul retired from the Marines, they took up the tradition again. In February, 1993 they invited me to join them. You will see from these dates that we were not spring chickens when the hunts occurred. The exception is Toby, the sprightly young grig, who was a friend and neighbor of William. I use ?neighbor? in the rural sense because they were not in hollering distance of each other. I could tell that they had a bond when I met them, and that Toby went to ?choir practice? with William?s older buddies. ?Choir practice? was William?s euphemism for playing poker. I do not think that either had a corrupting influence on the other. They were also fishing and hunting partners, the same as Paul and I. Anyone who loves dogs will understand the special bond that develops between owner and dog, or in my case, it seems, between owner and man. I love my dogs, and, thank God, Ruth does too ? probably more than I do. This story is about them, too. Most of all, the story is about the gentleman himself, Mr. Bob White. I fear that I have not done him justice because he is hard to describe. He is fast, agile, allusive, elusive, evasive, and smart. He is gregarious with his clan and forms a covey that moves like an army and springs into the air simultaneously, each foot seeming to leave the ground at the same millisecond. Covey rises always seem choreographed, and even when you know it is about to happen, it is like a surprise, a startle. The sound of a covey rise is frequently expressed as being like an explosion, or thunder, or eruption, but it is not like that. Actually the sound comes from the wing beats, and the pounding of the feathered appendage against the feathered body. But...you just have to be there. Paul and I live in east central Alabama, the lower Piedmont part of the Appalachian foot hills. Here quail and quail habitat have largely disappeared over the last half century as patch or subsistence farming has drastically declined. Quail do not do well in cow pastures and pine plantations. The opportunity for us to hunt birds in Early County, Georgia was a thrill difficult to over state.

The Orange County coast had its Joy Zone and its Fun Zone in the early decades of the 20th century. Knott's Berry Farm sprouted from a simple berry stand in Buena Park. The spot that would become Walt Disney's theme-park empire began as a citrus grove in Anaheim. Before long, Orange County was recognized as the nurturing ground for the growing amusement park industry. This book concerns the early history of such parks in the county east and south of Los Angeles, before high-tech digitization, when custom cars, enormous alligators, stunt planes, dolphin leaps, and movie stars' wax likenesses thrilled patrons. Some amusement parks have come and gone over a century of development, and some are still here, changing with the times to create new adventure and excitement for park goers.