A Sojourner’s Tale: Dawn of the Upland Season

My mission is to help you have a healthier dog and breeders to raise healthier Llewellin Setters puppies through educational content based on over twenty years raising, training, and breeding Llewellin Setters. To help support these efforts, this page may contain affiliate links. I may earn a small commission for qualifying purchases at no cost to you.

There’s a crackle in the Wyoming air tonight—the kind only bird hunters know. Tomorrow, September 1st, marks the opening day of upland bird season here in Wyoming and 30 miles away in Montana and my heart can hardly keep pace with the ticking clock.

A chocolate Labrador Retriever retrieving a bird in the field.

Truth be told, the season here at the ranch already has wings. As a hunting preserve, guests have been in the field, and the first hunts rolled out with laughter, tail wags, and the thunder of flushes. I had the privilege of tagging along with the guides—men whose Labrador Retrievers are as steady and eager as the sunrise itself. Watching those Labs work is poetry in motion: eyes sharp, tails buzzing with anticipation, noses locked on the wind. Guests left grinning, stories tumbling over each other, already dreaming of the next hunt. And me? I had my camera in hand, capturing the joy, the grit, the fleeting wildness of it all. I still can’t believe I get to tell these stories through my lens.

An upland hunt guide stuffing birds in his hunt vest.

Meanwhile, my own girls—Totem and Phoenix—are vibrating with anticipation. They know. Somehow, they always know. Their bodies quiver at the sound of zippers on the bird vest, the familiar clink of shells, the way I linger just a little longer by the gun case. Monday can’t come fast enough when we’ll head out beyond the ranch, into the wide sweep of the Thunderbasin National Grasslands near Gillette, WY. That’s where Totem and Phoenix shine—covering ground like feathered arrows, lungs and hearts tuned to the rhythm of the season.

If only the Ambo were ready to carry us there. She’s still sidelined—with a cracked head or head gasket (the verdict isn’t pretty). It’s the cruel irony of a nomadic bird hunter: home is your wheels, and sometimes, they betray you. Still, I’ll hopefully find a way. Maybe a rental, maybe borrowing something with four wheels and enough space for two impatient Llews. Where there’s a will, there’s a way—and come opening day, we’ll somehow be there.

Totem, a Laurel Mt Llewellin Setter working a field.

There’s something about this moment, this cusp of the season, that never fails to stir me. It’s not just about the birds or the shots or the miles walked. It’s about belonging to the land again, watching dogs become what they were born to be, and knowing the stories we’ll carry from this September into the long winter ahead.

And if you’re heading into the season too—whether with a bird dog, a shotgun, or simply your dreams—let me remind you: these days are fleeting. If you’d like to capture your own hunt in photographs that carry the dust, the feathers, the light, and the memory long after the season closes, I’d be honored to follow along with my camera. Just as I did for our recent hunt group, I can preserve not only your birds but your stories.

Tomorrow it begins. The covers are calling, Totem and Phoenix are ready, and my soul is already in the field.

Here’s to dawn, to bird dogs, and to another season on the wing.

Love, M.