A few years ago in spring I was wandering around the lowlands with my yellow lab, Daisy.
As we walked up the hill surrounded by the bog, Daisy, as befits a good hunting dog, was about two-thirds of the way ahead of me, sniffing the grass for a pheasant. As I stepped carefully through the hard-packed grass, I felt something press into the back of my calf, causing a tedious, stabbing pain.
Once the snow is gone, it’s time to get down to deer hunting
