Slept well. I mean, really well.

Heard the rain start again on the tent somewhere around one or two o'clock, but it was a nice gentle patter, so unlike most of our vicious, sideways storms. Could see the skies were clear when I first awoke, but the sleeping bag was too warm, the ground too comfortable to get up.

Even when I heard my fellow leader rousing from the tent next door.

Finally, at seven o'clock, I decided to start the day. We didn't have anything to do until almost ten, and breakfast was going to be simple oatmeal, so there was no hurry. No reason to wake any of the others.

Got up just in time to meet my compadre, returning from the fire station across the street with two thermoses of fresh, hot coffee. Plain or sugared, your choice.

Now this is camping in luxury.

Wife arrived about an hour later, and we debated if the day's planned activities would even get off the ground. We were still the only ones to show. But soon, others began to trickle in, so I made the dash home, cleaned up, changed uniforms, and returned with the furs and my skulls.

Set up near the front gate, by the food tables and restrooms, so my tables tended to be fairly popular (the first aid guys quit early, because nobody stopped by their station).

Had a couple boys who were eager to show off their knowledge of wildlife, but of course there were always a few they didn't know.

Don't know why so many folks guessed mongoose for the mink skin. Do they really think we have such things? And all agreed the river otter pelt, when tanned to remove the waterproof guard hairs, was the softest thing they'd ever felt. And the beaver hide so treated made it clear why such was popular a couple centuries ago.

Most people couldn't keep their fingers out of the antelope hide. The hairs are hollow and stiff, so it's like running your fingers through a short, huge broom.

Several new residents came by who had hunting questions. One couldn't tell a mule deer from an elk, so hopefully I got him straight on that before he goes out and shoots the wrong thing.

A family of three from south Georgia who just stopped by for the historic site, and kinda stumbled on our activities. They had no idea what anything was on my tables. Not even the striped skunk!

Now that's urban.

And most were thrown by my bags of fecal pellets (although one gal knew them all). Always fun to mash a sage grouse turd in your fingers (it's almost pure sagebrush leaves) and ask them to smell. If they're brave enough, they usually figure out what it came from.

But the biggest hit of all, by far, was our rope bridge. Had to keep three adults down there just to keep traffic under control.

And yeah, most the adults tried it, too. Even got the manager of the historic site to cross it, with much cajoling. Boys got their revenge for the frights she gave them on the night tour, although they didn't know it.

And yeah, I went across, too. Several times. Gotta test the equipment, you know.

Pretty easy when you've got boots on with deep heels. Helps to hang onto the rope. Kinda hard to do one-handed, though, when the other is holding the camera.