True story: My fascination with snow geese began in bed. It was the late 1990s. I’d moved from St. Paul, Minn., to Aberdeen, S.D., only a few months earlier. Spring had sprung; warmer weather had finally started melting the snowpack after what felt like a particularly long, cold, gloomy winter.
One morning at sunup, my bedroom window cracked, the refreshingly cool spring air carried the din of something I had never heard before: the evocative, deafening barks and yelps of tens of thousands of migrating snows and blues.
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