I honestly believe he saw the early dove season as a portal of sorts, a door that led from his precious Madison, Missouri and Yellowstone trout waters to his winter haven of McRae’s Pond in Eutaw, an event that fit into a wonderful year starting with tracking a monster buck through the snow in January, calling a strutting tom in for mom, hooking a spring stringer of bass and bream with his mother and sisters, landing a twenty-one inch brown hooked with a twenty aught PMD on Depuys….always with a dry fly and never a wet one, shooting doves with his friends and family across the pond from his cabin, teaching his children the miracle of anatomy while processing a doe for the table, praising God for the bounty in which He blessed the McRae family during a full blown Thanksgiving, and finally working a wad of greenheads into the spread on a Christmas morning duck hunt in a marsh that he created and named after his dad - all whilst contributing to a thriving medical practice, acting as Chief of Neurosurgery of a Birmingham hospital, raising a family, nurturing a wife, and modeling the hands and feet of Jesus Christ at every opportunity. That’s who we memorialize at this dove hunt.