Chicago Sun-Times
Stray Casts will intelligently report and observe, hopefully with a touch of wit, on daily occurrences, reports and releases related to Chicago-area outdoors from bucks to bass to birds to bugs

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CLARENCE, Ill.--Ken Abraham looked over Saturday morning and asked, ``Well, what do you think of the mob scene?''


I had finagled an invite for opening day of pheasants from Gerry ``The General'' Rodeen. His merry band of hunters, associated with the Pioneer chapter of Pheasants Forever, work the fields and ditches around the border of Iroquois and Ford counties.

As dawn came, Rodeen organized 20 hunters milling around ``The Shed.'' It was an event filled with the usual guy backtalk mixed with serious weighing of hunting options.

A couple hours later, on a drive from one field to another, that Abraham, a long-time outdoorsman from Schaumburg, popped the question.

And I had a answer about the style of hunting I prefer.

``Probably just being by myself, roaming around and kicking at stuff,'' I said.

My absolute favorite time of hunting is sitting by myself for days in a row on the deer stand with only my thoughts bouncing around my head.

Some are born to savor the camraderie of the group experience. I prefer the isolation of being out by myself or with a couple respected buddies.

The hightlight of the day for me came after final push by the group of the day.

On the way back to ``The Shed,'' Otis Kirchhoefer asked if we wanted to be dropped off to work a short drainage ditch. So his son Kyle, a recent ISU grad, I and their two dogs, Dixie and Dakota, kicked out the ditch.

We didn't roust anything, but the dogs worked the middle perfectly as Kyle and I kicked the edges and talked of life.

It was a good way to end the day.

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This page contains a single entry by Dale Bowman published on November 3, 2008 10:15 AM.

When bathtubs fly on a Wild Sunday 11-2-08 was the previous entry in this blog.

In memory of Hendee (updated) is the next entry in this blog.

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