There used to be a farm-stead beside the Range Road near Brooks that always had a flock of pheasant cock-birds on the front lawn. I think the owner fed them. During pheasant season, every truck that drove by would slow to a crawl, while the hunters would drool over that flock - nobody took a shot or anything, just drooled. With every truck that stopped for a look, the old guy in the house would come running out, screaming and yelling profanities, so red in the face you thought he was going to blow a valve. Word got out and everyone hunting that area would make sure they drove by his place a couple of times, just to make sure he got some exercise. The would make a cool story!
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