• To the Hunt

    Here’s to 2 am alarm clocks and ice on the windshield. To us not being sure why our hands are shaking – is it the bitter cold, or the monstrous 10 point that just stepped into the clearing. The sound of a wood duck whistling his way unseen through the darkness seconds before shoot time.  The rattle of the dog boxes as the pointers bang their tails against the side, desperate to find their next quail.  The snap of a twig behind you in the tree stand – Unknown yet full of promise.  The whistles, of bobwhites and pintails and dog handlers . . . The clucks, of hen mallards…