"SENECA, S.D. — Birds boiled out of the slough 30 yards ahead, brown streaks against a bright blue sky."

"'Hen, hen, hen, hen, hen,' shouted Sal Roseland of Seneca, S.D.

A call that could be construed as monotonous or frustrating also can be music to pheasant hunters' ears. That is, if they are focused on the future of the population.

It was clear this piece of central South Dakota was in very good shape."

Paul A. Smith reports for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel December 25, 2013. [2]