There’s a certain kind of magic that happens along Illinois’ Kaskaskia River before dawn.
You know it if you’ve ever been there – when the mist rises off the water, the air holds its breath, and a handful of hunters lean forward just a little, waiting for the first flock to swing in. That feeling – that mix of anticipation, tradition, and camaraderie – isn’t something you can explain easily to folks who’ve never shouldered a shotgun in the half-light.
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