“One Fine Morning” – Bill Callahan

Early season bird hunting is a frustrating and often fruitless endeavour.

The air is too warm, the sun is too hot, and every hill has you sweating like the uncouth beast that you are. You’re out of shape and your aim is poor. With the leaves still on the trees the birds are harder to find, even harder to see and still just as hard to hit. The still supple long grass trips your feet as mosquitos still linger and swarm your face and neck. You know its good for you and good for the dog, but there are times when you wonder why you don’t just wait for October.

But last year there were times when I thought we’d never be able to do this again. A freak accident put a stick into her artery and it was touch and go for a while. The idea of losing her was right there, an unfathomable loss, that become far too real.

But she pulled through.

A little slower for sure, and a little older it seems, but here. Twenty feet in front of me. Doing what she loves best.

And the fact that we managed to bag one.

Well it was one fine morning, indeed.