I remember it all very clearly, even though I was a young boy, and it has been so long ago now. It was the first year I was allowed to take a stand by myself. It had been so exciting in September, the first time I was alone on a stand. The heavy morning dew soaking through my boots as the mist rose skyward, the sun warming the cool morning. In my hands the smooth wood of a well worn stock and the cold steel barrels of an aged sixteen gauge double barrel shotgun. The gun had been my father’s, and my grandfather’s before, but now it was mine. Pride swelled within me as I stood in the glory of God’s morning, turning my head towards the warmth of the sun.