Hope Makes the Hunter

Day's End

- Josh Greenberg

The point that may lead to Holden’s first bird is at the base of an old berm that separates a poplar stand from a tamarack swamp. The berm is overgrown and rises about a meter above the rest of the earth. At my direction, the boy stands atop the berm. The 20-gauge seems too large, but the boy has proven he can handle it, more through determination than by muscle. The dog, Fin, points back toward the boy, the fur on the nub of her tail flared. I’m behind Fin, looking down the line of her point, and right into the black eye of a woodcock that is pasted to the leaves. The collar beeps. The bell is silent.