There's a popular misconception in today's society. Somehow, the masses have been convinced that the start of the New Year is January. It's a month of short days dressed in frigid temperatures that echos Revelations rather than Genesis. May I offer an alternative? Join the leagues of men south of the Mason-Dixon who celebrate September as the proper start of the New Year. Why? Well, September brings with it that most dangerous mistress named Hope. Hope that the summer sun has done its worst and a reprieve is in sight. Hope of a 0-0 college football record in small towns and big cities. Hope a wing shooter possesses as he ponders his upcoming hunts.
I look forward to celebrating the start of the "New Year" dove hunting deep in the soul of South Texas. It's hot, as you would assume. Stamped with thorns, cactus, and shrubs, it's not known to be the most fertile or forgiving land God created. Yet it yields people who are strong, generous with what they have, and who have in them the independence Texans are known for worldwide. And if the conditions are right, it's a damn good spot to hunt dove too.
I'd compare dove hunting to a three-part cocktail. One-third sportsmanship: The gratitude one feels after landing a shot successfully can shock a man at first. One-third camaraderie: Old stories being shared as new ones are being made with genuinely good men around you is a blessing that fills the heart. Then there's the final part: An unfiltered connection to God's creation; Fresh air has solved many mental and physical ailments.
The wings of September are near. I plan to greet them sitting on a swivel bucket with the Rio Grande at my back and a field of sunflowers standing before me. I imagine watching the burning sun break into the morning light and asking myself, "When's the last time I watched the sunrise?" I promise to do it again soon, and at the moment, I mean it. Then, a pop goes off. Then another. After a few minutes, an unorganized choir of shotguns is spattering the sky, and another year has begun. I hope I have enough shells. I hope I'm able to get my limit. Because September is a time for hope.
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