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I know what I'll be drinking on Opening Day...

I never knew I would, but I do, I love everything about it, but I especially love this: … sitting shotgun on dark and frosty mornings, deep into autumn. The small patch of highway under the car’s beams unfurling before us. Thermos in hand, each sip of dark, satisfying coffee that rolls from my cup rests heavy on my tongue and the anticipation for the days hunt grows with each sip … will I see nothing all day but that flash of white_ hind legs kicking off into thick underbrush, or will I find myself standing in a perfect glade of pines, a mature buck standing frozen, broadside at 75 yards.

Growing up outside of Boston, the idea of going hunting frankly never occurred to me as something I might like to do. It wasn’t until after my first child was born, having lived in Montana for ten years, that I decided I wanted to provide my family with an unending supply of fresh, local, organic meat. This season marks my fifth year of heading out to one of our (not so) secret spots and though it is still 22 days away I am already visualizing a success_ my bag is packed, my rifle is sighted and my thermos is shiny and clean.

And in the coming days, I will certainly be heading to Black Coffee Roasters for a pound of The Hunt for good luck and because it accessorizes so well with the rest of my gear!

Molly and Taylor somewhere in Montana, Opening Day 2009. I scored a nice little four point buck that day and had the rest of the season off.