“We need a name for this place. Every special hunting spot is given a name, and this one is no exception.”

Leaning back on our elbows, the four of us pondered the assignment. It was a cold, gusty November afternoon on the South Dakota prairie, but we had found a perfect resting spot on a leeward slope dotted with junipers. The sun warmed our spirits as we gazed across the expanse and reflected on the day. A lake sparkled under the sunshine in the distance, and thousands of sandhill cranes cackled overhead, punctuating the sky with checkmarks of migrating flocks from one horizon to the other.