I’ve spent a hundred mornings in Tom Rosenbauer’s kitchen. His dog Trilly taught my dog Pickett how to retrieve. He founded the Pawlet Duck and Retriever Club, whose only members were the two of us, Bob Murphy, and our three dogs—its very existence and grand moniker typical of Tom’s self-deprecating and often ironic sense of humor. We shot the occasional duck, but mostly we just sat by the Mettowee River behind Tom’s house, drank coffee, watched the sun rise and the river go by. Were it about shooting ducks, we would have quit long before, but in retrospect, it was more about Tom sharing himself and his river with Bob and me. . . .