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Dawdling gets us nowhere

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The one and only time I talked to Kay Bowles, Wyoming game warden, was in summer of 1976 after a hike I made into the Washakie Wilderness. I had a creel full of Rocky Mountain whitefish and a few cutthroat trout, but since I was hundreds of miles from my home in Cheyenne, I stopped in at Bowles’ place in Dubois to see if I could use his freezer.

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