Again I travel east, over a blue highway passing through big, open grasslands that stretch for miles. To my left, the mixed grass prairie extends north through much of the Dakotas and south through most of Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma. On this tranquil autumn day, the golden grassy hills seem to roll like vast ocean waves ahead of my pickup. All around me I see reminders of the first place I hunted greater prairie chickens, an event that has stayed in the back of my mind ever since. They’ve become a historical romance and a legendary gamebird in my life.