The hunters took their places during the last vestige of night, a pale gray light streaking the sky above the eastern horizon. They situated themselves in a small corn field, two or three or four bunched together around little islands of corn stalks that stood in the otherwise harvested field. Others took positions along the field’s edges, their backs pushed against the scrubby bushes and gnarled trees that lined the field’s eastern border.
As the hunters settled into canvas field chairs and stools, the rising sun transformed an unremarkable gray dawn to a spectacular scene of pink and orange brushstrokes haphazardly washed across a purple...