Imagine my surprise

The bird season opened on an unsettling note.

With my obituary.

I’d gone to bed early and missed the text message my friend David sent later that evening. But when I woke at 5 a.m. and glanced at my phone to check the time, I saw it. Under the heading of obituaries was a picture of me.

David, the gravedigger in town, regularly checks the online version of the local paper, for upcoming work. He’d spotted my mug on the obits page, sent condolences in a text to my wife, and called dibs on my semiautomatic shotgun.

I considered going back to bed.

Sleep, however, was out of the question. I w...