I awoke Sept. 1 way too early. It was the first day of hunting season and I didn’t want to be late.

After a quick breakfast I loaded the dogs into the truck, double-checked my gear, and grabbed a mug of coffee.

On the drive down I worried that someone would be in my spot, but when I got there of course no one was. Opening day of upland bird season never draws a crowd despite my fears.

It was dark yet, and I sat in the truck listening to Ace whine in his box. When it was light enough I fastened Dot’s collar around her neck, slipped two shells into my shotgun, and hollered “Let’s hunt...