The night before the hunter checks his ammunition and guns excitedly he waits,

for the sun to peak out as the dawn is about to break,

He and his children dress themselves in proper hunting gear,

Just like Indian fathers from the days of yesteryear.

Bright orange dots the Kansas prairies and plains

As the hunters walk the fields of harvested grain.

Suddenly, a bird breaks out into their light,

And the hunters have the bird well within their sight.

The rubble of gunfire could be heard from near and far.

As the pheasants fall, and they search for where they are.

Field after field, and shot after shot, the sunset ends the day.

The Hunters have cherished memories forever to stay.