Of all the mornings to go out hunting in January, we had chosen one of the coldest.
My father and I arrived at a frozen parking lot in Royersford, at 7 a.m. My friend John was already waiting, his 6-foot, 5-inch, lanky frame stretched against the side of the car. Birdie, his German shorthaired pointer, paced nearby, impatient to get started and unbothered by the 9-degree weather.
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