Invariably, through the course of a busy opening weekend of hunting season, game wardens end up collecting animals in the backs of their trucks. Or parts of animals.

Yesterday, my two wardens happened to stop in at my check station at the same time. One headed out of town, the other headed back in. Each with parts of antelope in their rigs.

And naturally, they compared what they had acquired.

Yeah, hers was bigger than his.

One had the head of a yearling buck antelope, lopped off by a hunter who only had a license for a doe. Now, yearling buck horns are often small, smaller than those of some does, forcing a doe hunter to rely on the absence of a black patch on the cheek to be certain the animal is female.

This one wasn't.

But this buck's horns were small, even for a yearling, and his black patch faint. So the hunter shot it. Seems like at least one or two make this mistake each year. And if they're honest about it, and hadn't been engaged in some careless flock shooting, they often get by with a written warning. But this fellow, who had a cell phone in his pocket where there is great tower reception, instead decided to hide his error and cut off the male organs, and the head.

His mistake.

So, no simple warning for him, and he essentially doubled his fines by confounding his crimes.

And this warden has a little buck antelope head in his rig.

The other warden started the day with a call of an antelope shot and left in the field (a call reported to me, since the guy making the honest call has had his own troubles with the wardens).

This, less than an hour after shooting hours opened. So the meat was salvageable.

Didn't take long before she had tracked down the offending vehicle, and managed to match bootprints on the scene to the two gentlemen in the truck. But they protested their innocence. Yeah, they'd shot at an antelope at that spot, but it had run off. And when the hunter tried to load a second round, he found his gun had misfired and that the bullet (not the brass cartridge, but the actually lead bullet), was still in his gun, plugging the barrel.

Well, to hear her tell it, it was an investigation worthy of a CSI episode. But she and the suspects were able to put the entire scene together, including examining the size and shape of the entry wound in the antelope's hide, and were able to determine that, contrary to their logical assumptions, only half of their bullet had jammed into the rifle barrel. Being a jacketed slug, the central core of lead had continued out the barrel, and hit a crippling blow to the antelope.

So. They need to quit reloading with those bullets, and thank their lucky stars that the whole slug hadn't jammed in the barrel, 'cause then the barrel or chamber probably would have exploded in his face.

Aaaanyway, this isn't about the wardens' cases this weekend.

It's about antelope eyeballs.

You see, after salvaging the meat, the second warden had only kept the skullplate of the cripple loss buck. For those of you not big game hunters, you get the top plate of the skull off by sawing from the back of the skull, behind the horns and above the ears, forward to the top of the muzzle.

If you do it right, your cut goes just above the eyeballs and brain, leaving you with a clean piece of bone with horns attached. But if you're in a hurry, as apparently was the case in this circumstance, the eyeballs sometimes come clinging to that plate.

Yeah, it's kinda gross.

A point made by the other warden. Repeatedly, as the second warden took this opportunity to trim the eyeballs off the bone. (Which is hard to do, since they tend to be kinda slippery.)

As the first eye was finally cut off, it was flung towards the mouthy partner. Who neatly palmed the gooey ball and dropped it, irretrievably, into the narrow space between her toolbox and truck bed.

There to rot and stink, for who knows how long.

And he hastily beat feet back to his own rig, burning rubber as he popped it in reverse to gain distance between himself and the other warden, who was ripping the second orb of ammunition off the skullplate.

It was like watching a couple kids in a snowball fight.

And I soon found myself in the crossfire, as an antelope eyeball went winging over my left shoulder to splop onto the hood of the rapidly receding truck. Leaving a slime trail as it rolled off onto the asphalt. The truck then sped forward and away, before the eyeball missile could be retrieved and reflung.

Now, they have discussed a lot about eyeballs in the forensic shows, like CSI and Crossing Jordan. About the vitrious humour inside, and such. But never have I heard anyone mention how loud one is when it pops. But the front tire of the escaping rig nailed this eyeball dead on.

Even brought the heelers up out of their seats, looking for where the boomb-a-loomb came from. Like popping a really big bubble of plastic bubble wrap.

And it left a wedge of vitrious humour sprayed halfway across my parking area. Which the heelers wanted to check and taste every time I let them out.

This I did not appreciate.

So, anyway, that was yesterday.

Today, the warden with the pronghorn eyeball jammed in her truck bed came out of the field first. And lo and behold, in the day's bouncing, the dried sphere had rolled to one side where, with a little uncomfortable twisting of the elbow, I was able to retrieve it.

And unbeknownst to the second warden, who came into town an hour or two later, he left my check station with an antelope eyeball.

Surreptitiously hidden alongside his toolbox.

There to rot and stink, for who knows how long.