Opening Day is deeply personal and can encompass a range of emotions and experiences. There is a sweet serenity in the outdoors. The kind where you find God in peace in the historic trees, the dancing prairie grass, dense plum thickets, and warmth of the sun upon waking the world. That serenity is priceless and sets the tone for another season outdoors. Outside of this serenity, there are two things that I look forward to as opening day approaches. Connecting to nature and sharing tradition and ritual.
Extended periods of time in the outdoors leads to connecting with nature in a profound way. This day symbolizes an appreciation for the natural world, the thrill of tracking animals, and the opportunity to immerse in the wilderness. It’s a welcomed break from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. It is an escape from the demands of work, technology, and provides a platform for solitude and reflection.
The tradition of opening day creates an anticipation like no other. In my family it is a time-honored tradition that has been passed down through generations. Even though opening day looks different year to year, it is a chance to connect with family, ancestors, and honor the cultural history of those who came before you while building a legacy for those coming behind us. To me, that is a priceless moment in time that is cherished.
For me, opening day is a symbol of the goodness in this world. It is an opportunity to sit in the beauty that the good Lord has provided us. It is an opportunity to root ourselves in practices that feed our soul and it is an opportunity to share those moments with someone else.
Brittany French
CEO, Pass It On – Outdoor Mentors
Civilized. That’s what I regard the opening day of dove season as. For me anyway. It typically doesn’t involve rising early, frostbite, nor include a terrifying climb alone in the dark up a ladder. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of those things. Despite my protestations, I enjoy those, too. Just not as much.
No, for me, dove opening day, represents so much of what I like about hunting. Not only just being outside with friends—and I regarding dove hunting as one of the most social and enjoyable of pastimes—but it is one where hard work, knowing where the birds will go, and individual skill with your gun can make a huge difference.
Tuning up is part of the ritual on Clays long before legal hunting can begin. Trips to the range, and seeing if there is a target that is high enough and fast enough that it will get the genius targeting computer that is within your brain ready for what is to come. “Trapper, can you crank that crosser up, please?”
If you’re not first, you’re not necessarily last. But being first doesn’t suck. It is nice to have the knowledge that the season is open before the birds do. It’s something the department of game and inland fisheries and I like to keep from our feathered friends. And it’s not just getting the jump on early birds, it’s also walking through the field, and not seeing any shells, save those that are encrusted in dirt with their case heads tarnished by a year in the Earth, and maybe a brush with a farm implement. No power bar or desiccated Twinkie wrappers that have not been there since at least last season. Not unspoiled, but not recently sullied, either.
And being close enough to friends to see a shot, well made, and the wings crumple. It matters not if the shot was mine. It is a cause for group celebration.
And then there are the misses, and the personal ignominy or group ragging that follows. I remember one bird that flew the line of guns, which were emptied, as it passed through all of us. There may have been more lead in the air than the Ploesti raid. Unscathed, that bird settled on a wire at the edge of the field after passing the gauntlet. He sat and watched us for about 20 minutes, then went on to do bird things. When he did so, rightly, no one fired at him. Word, bird.
Mark Keefe
Editorial Director, NRA Publications
For decades, the opening day of dove season in Pennsylvania was a time when my family and friends would head out to our favorite hot spots to participate in a wingshooting adventure beyond just shooting birds. In fact, opening day was just the end of the journey.
Several weeks, if not months before, my dad would have my two brothers and me sitting at the reloading bench placing primers, setting the wads, and pulling the handle to fill our MTM boxes with shells. It meant a trip to the back garden in search of the biggest and juiciest red tomatoes for our sandwiches that we would make and eat on the tailgate of the 1975 Chevy pick-up. Driving down dirt roads, scouting thousands of acres days before "The Opener" to find dove activity in cut fields, gravel pits, flyways, and roast trees.
With all the details taken care of, we would then enter the field to start our hunting season. For several hours, birds would lobby back and forth across the field, into the trees, and back again as if testing our shooting skills. And test they did!
At the end of the day, everyone would return to the trucks. Sunburn on our arms, neck, and nose, we would carry our shotgun, bucket of birds, and spent shells back to the day's final ritual. As the counting was complete and each hunter was weighed and measured, some felt great satisfaction, and others came up wanting, planning for next year's revenge on those brown mini missiles that we call doves.
Mark Sidelinger
Media Direct Creative Group
Here it is. A new season to learn and to grow. New opportunities to test myself, to expand my skillset—and if I’m lucky, to reinforce that which I’ve honed over several processes. Opening day means even more experiences to partake in, new adventures, and places before never seen.
Opening day reminds me of countless, tedious preparations that need to be made. Preparations that if executed with care and attentiveness will culminate in success down range.
This is the time when I will build upon what little I know while pushing myself past my comfort zones. New firsts will come, each with its own unique story to accompany. Disappointments and revelations of things “not” to do again will inevitably be apart of it. Regardless, memories will be created, etched into my heart and soul. Mine for eternity.
New people will be met. Strangers will become partners if only for a short time and new friends will likely be made.
Even after several hunts abroad and domestically, I still don’t consider myself a hunter per se but instead, an eager student of what the field has to teach. The opportunities to spot, stalk and harvest seem so few and far between. But ultimately with opening day it means one more chance to truly live this one life God has given us.
Sean Utley
Editor-At-Large, Ballistic Magazine Precision Edition
Growing up in New York during the 1980’s, there was really only one ‘Opening Day’ when it came to hunting. As New York never had a dove season, and turkeys were non-existent in Putnam County back then, the third Wednesday of November was highlighted and circled on every calendar in the house; for that was opening day for whitetail deer.
The meaning of opening day has evolved for me over the years. In the 1980’s it meant that I got to play hooky from school and experience a different type of learning that day. During my first few opening days I learned about firearm safety, ethics, patience, comradery, how to brave the elements and sharpen my senses. Those early opening days also meant rite-of-passage, maturing, and learning how to handle taking the life of an animal the same size as me.
Once I became an established hunter, opening day meant it was time to see if my pre-season work was going to pay off. Hours and days scouting, managing habitat and checking trail cameras before the season consumed a lot of free time but increased my odds of success for many opening days.
Nowadays opening day means passing on the tradition, skills and experiences of hunting. I am fortunate to have spent the last three opening days with my father, who will turn 81 the day after New York’s opening day 2023, and my youngest son, who is 17. With three generations piling in the truck, opening day 2023 will be about making memories. I will be spending more time watching my father interact with my son than I will be watching the woods for deer.
What future opening days will mean remains to be seen but I do know that they will include a heavy focus on recruiting the next generation of hunters that will help take the place of the current generation. I wish the best of luck to the millions of my fellow opening day hunters and hope that you too will consider asking someone new to come with you to the woods and fields this season.
Jim Curcuruto
Executive Director, Outdoor Stewards of Conservation Foundation
What Opening Day Means To Me – Monday, Aug. 28