I can always tell. The temperature is screaming into the triple digits, leaves on the dogwoods are shriveling on the tips, tomatoes are ripening on the vine faster and faster, and if you have squash or eggplant in the garden you have enough to feed Moore County.

Centipede grass is going to seed. Bird dogs and retrievers are digging holes in the shrubbery to try to find some relief; but when evening comes and things cool down, they put their noses to the ground looking for birds.

The cicadas are singing, days are perceptibly shorter, and dawn comes with a heavy dew.

These signs can mean only one thing. Summer is waning and Labor Day and dove season are almost here. Bird hunters everywhere develop a spring in their step and they smile all the time. From now until next March, weeks will zip into months.

It’s as if they’re living out Calvin and Hobbes’ favorite mantra: “I’m having fun but not enough fun. Go faster!”

The season really cranks up for me personally when I receive the annual letter from Steve Dana and Greg Lyne, the co-secretary/treasurers of our dove hunting organization, the Southern Pines Shooting Club.

The letter contains all the information about opening day and rules and regulations for all members and their guests.

The organization has a real history. It was started by the late Col. Leon Baker in the early 50s and has been active every year, providing hunting opportunities to participants from all over Moore County. There are even members from across the state.

The club is much more than a hunt club, though, with special emphasis being placed on conservation and good hunter sportsmanship.

Safety rules are strictly enforced and hunting game laws are followed at all times. Randy Greene expertly runs the show as president with the able assistance of Charlie Rowe, the vice president and field director.

They run a tight ship but one guaranteed to provide an excellent day afield.

Dove hunting, for me, has come a long way from my early years hunting along the railroad tracks from Aberdeen to Pinebluff.

In those days when I was in the field, it was for anything that was in season. It was not unusual for me and my dog Smut, a curly coated retriever, to tromp up on the back porch after an afternoon in the woods with my game vest loaded with squirrels, maybe a quail or two, and if I was lucky, a couple of doves.

If it was available, it was in my bag. A big bull elephant would have been in trouble if they were legal and if there were any about.

Now dove season, especially in the south, has become a great social event. For example, our club meets at the farm of Bill Cameron about 10 a.m. on opening day for a delicious brunch with all the fixings.

After a morning of camaraderie discussing the good times from the previous year, the group convoys out to the dove field for an afternoon of hunting.

The past decades have changed the way I hunt. Now when I’m out on an expedition, it’s usually for one species, ducks, quail or doves. I even have shotguns for specific game. Am I having more fun today than I did at 14 with one shotgun that belonged to my daddy? Probably.

But I still miss those early years when I hit the tracks in Aberdeen and hunted all the way home to Pinebluff with the ever loyal Smut. Those were wonderful times and a lot of the fun was due to not knowing what was around the next bend.

Like Forrest Gump and his box of chocolates, we never knew what we were going to get.

Contact Tom Bryant by email at tom@thepilot.com.