This is Brooke and Cash. I think my favorite thing about this hunt are the nicknames, the ongoing pranks, the fathers and sons, or even mother and son. A new dog’s clumsy retrieve, an old dog’s strut, a dog acting birdy only to pee on another dog’s mark. The crazy whims of Lance, seeing little Zack get bigger and more full of himself, more like Lance, old Mr Reilly coming out on a tractor to check how we’re faring. Out of breath dogs too tired to move, caravaning through fields in seven trucks with tailgates down, the sun coming low for three golden hours before sunset. Standing in front of the combine and cleaning birds, making fun of missed shots, hiding the dead jack rabbit in Derick’s truck for the third time, because Kayce never should have shot it, admitted he hated to because their numbers are thin, but that he hadn’t got a bird all day.

It’s our tradition, it’s their tradition and out of state hunters befriending South Dakota farmers is a tradition in itself.