The Moon Shot

Before I ever fired a shot, I was trapped in a camper shell with a gassy dog, freezing my tail off, and trying not to pass out. By sundown, I’d botched the flush of a lifetime, dodged my own shotgun spray, and earned a nickname I’ll never live down. This is how one hunting trip in Red Cloud, Nebraska, went from moon shot to punchline—and why my dog still gets the last laugh.