Pre-dawn rise. Collars charged, canine chargers kenneled in the pickup. Black sky and drizzle. Fog. All four released into tall grass and ripening berry. Fur wet through to skin. Running hard and hunting as if it were the last day of the season instead of the first. All four into the mist of this first day of the best month of the year. Pause now, lead dog pointing, others backing. Walk in. Five birds rise. Autoloader: three raspy barks. Three young grouse fall. It doesn’t, it can’t, get any better. No way, no how. Not even with dry feet.
Mouthful of Feathers 
Dry feet are a small price to pay for an experience like that…Cheers!
Be even sweeter on the plate!
Accurately operated autoloaders can make for short days afield!
You had me until the triple. Then it became fiction lol.