Last night Finn and I sat in a cut wheat field hoping to shoot a few doves. The birds weren’t flying, but we had a wonderful, magical time chasing crickets, collecting spent shells and playing in the stubble.
As we were collecting our gear in the waning moments of the day, the setting sun glowed hazy-red as it dipped low in the west.
Coyotes started yipping and howling to our north, south and east. Finn shot me a worried look and asked, “Is there any chance those coyotes could be dangerous for a kid like me?”
I smiled and held his hand and we walked down a golden row back to the gravel road. “Not as long as a kid like you has a dad like me around.”
“Daddy, I know we didn’t see any doves. But I still had the best time ever.”
“Me too, bubba. We’ll do it again soon.”