...at least on the Southwest side. The water was so low I could walk out about 6 yards on the gravely lake bottom towards the geese which couldn't have cared less. There was no buillion and no sunken ship on the lake bed, no seven Chinese brothers, not even a turtle in hibernation, just some broken bottles and chunks of cement and brick. The song of the of Red-Winged Blackbird cheered me up, it sounded like a splashy guiro spazzing it up for fun and profit.
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