Time to remember the shots I made

Hunting season must be over. I unplugged the boot dryer last night.

For four months I’ve been carrying a loaded weapon more days than not, my finger on the safety, ready to raise the gun and fire. I shot a lot of rounds, killed more than a few birds, and wore out a pair of boots.

I opened the season hunting ruffed grouse in the Beartooths, not knowing what awaited me back home on the prairie. I soon found out. For the rest of September, I hunted earlier and faster than I ever had before in a vain effort to stay a step ahead of the swarms of mosquitoes that dogged me.

I’d make a quick loop from...