An incredibly slow day.

Yeah, I checked over 30 dead critters, but most of those were already cut up into neat little packages, or even fat sausages, and well frozen by the time they reached my check station on the highway. Almost all headed to points west, but a few going east.

Only six animals from my areas, and a few from neighboring parts of our region. It was well into the afternoon before I cut out my first CWD sample, and ended up with only four for the day. (Compare that to 41 samples on the opening day of the south deer seasons.)

Included in the day...

Three gents headed back to Missouri. One quickly and proudly showed me the antlers from his buck, and all the paperwork. The second lingered near a cooler at the back of the trailer. Kinda quiet. When it was time to check his animal, he sheepishly hands me a small card, rather than the expected long, thin game tag.

"I messed up..." he starts out. And explains this story about watching a spike buck move in behind a tree, where no other deer had been.

"So you shot the deer that came out the other side," I finish his story for him.

And it was a doe. This apparently honest hunter just committed a crime. And you can tell, days later, it is still eating at him.

But the card he handed me is the documentation from the game warden from that area, a fellow who has been mentioned here before, for allowing a can of pepper spray to explode on his dash (someone else in the outfit did that this month, by the way). Who was so impressed by this hunter's remorse, and the fact that he cleaned the doe and brought it in to town to turn himself in, that he issued him a citation, then went to bat with the local judge at the behest of the hunter.

And also let him keep the doe.

A retired warden once explained to me that you have to punish some people when they make a mistake. Or else they'll never be able to live with the guilt.

And it's true.

Managed to pluck a handful of snow off an ATV in the back of a truck from the north. Yeah, we had horrific wind all morning (Tried to lift the cooler from the back of the truck. Really. Literally. Had to bungee it in.), and was taking the coat on and off all day as the wind shifted from cold West to warm North (and that makes no sense, either, but that's what it did)). But we had sunshine and warm temps. And here hunters were coming by who awoke to 12 inches of snow on the ground, not a hundred miles away.

First hunter out reported another hunter afield without any required blaze orange garment. Complete with license plate and physical description of both the violator, and his father. Had another hunter make the same complaint a few hours later. His description a match for the first.

The father and son didn't come out with their deer until almost sunset. And we were happily conversing until I asked the son if he had any orange. Which he promptly produced from the cab of the truck. As I tersely informed him he was supposed to wear that bright clothing, and as an outside layer, he got indignant.

Even after I explained he was seen by another hunter, complete with license plate, he denied breaking the law. (But as a side note, the nearest game warden was over an hour away, already settled into camp for the night, and couldn't write a citation without a witness to testify. So no, this conversation wasn't going anywhere serious. But the young hunter didn't know that.)

Then I explained about the second witness.

"When I get two independent reports, I tend to believe them," I reproached.

And was surprised to hear a loud, but stiffled, snicker from the father behind me. Apparently they had already had this discussion.

And Dad just won.

Sometime before noon, a truck and trailer with three hunters pulls in. And as we gather at the back to check their game, one asks if I minded if he took a leak. He's desperate.

"Well, the heeler might mind." I don't explain that the masked heeler had been gingerly picking her way through the litter and apparent human waste on the shoulder of the road in order to get to the open sage to do her business. I'm sure she won't want another scent post to avoid.

So, when they pull out, I find he completely missed the shoulder of the parking lot. And relieved himself in the middle of my parking lot.

Hey man! Thanks a lot. I work here.

Makes me want to find the cubicle or office where he works, and leave a puddle of my own.

And by the end of the day, other hunters had added two more huge wet spots on the asphalt for me to step around. Bad enough to be working next to a roadside latrine, but now I'm working inside a urinal.

Yeah, I'm hoping for rain tonight, since we're sitting the same place tomorrow.

Highway patrolman stopped by mid-afternoon, to ask about my day. While mine was boring, his was the opposite.

"Got run off the road up the way," he explained. A young woman in her car, too impatient to stay in a line of traffic, tried to pass when there wasn't enough room before the oncoming Patrolcar.

Man, it would be bad enough to run someone off the road.

But a Highway Trooper?

I was surprised to find he then had to chase her down several miles and red light her to stop. After waiting for a break in traffic to turn around.

I mean, you run a State Trooper off the road, you know you're gonna get a ticket. Why further aggravate the officer by making him chase after you?

Me, I woulda pulled over right then and there and waited to take my medicine.

The evening was grey, and dim, with clouds to the west. No impressive sunset, I was sure.

I was wrong.