THEY COULD’VE BEEN carrier pigeons, flying through the smoke and pops of gunfire on a century-ago battlefield to relay a secret message. But they were just doves, hellbent on eating popcorn. My buddy Ryan and I knelt in the shadow of a tobacco barn that had wisps of smoke curling from its rafters as we waited for birds to sail over the roof and into sight. Most of them had already set their wings and were gliding into the picked field by the time we saw them. As doves go, it was easy shooting.
Tobacco barns, where “dark-fire” tobacco leaves are cured by smoke prior to