It passes too quickly

It always passes too quickly.

When I parked my truck at dawn on the opening morning of bird season I was surprised to see a sage grouse sitting on a rise, silhouetted against the lightening sky. I took it as a good omen even though the bird flew as soon as I stepped out of the truck.

That seems a long time ago now and it has been nearly three months that I’ve been hunting this fall.

For the first six weeks I hunted the early mornings to beat the heat and avoid the snakes, sneaking Ace out to the truck in the dark while the puppy was still asleep.

I’d sip coffee and listen to depressing news on...