Since we'd been up to ten o'clock the night before running a night check station, the heelers and I were about an hour later than normal setting up again Sunday morning. And I instantly realized I'd forgotten something.

My coffee.

Sitting there on the cutting board back home.

Craaap.

So, do I drive all the way home and back again just for coffee? Or do I call the wife and try to sweet-talk/cajol/guilt her into driving it out to me?

The heelers were thrilled when, an hour later, our white SUV came up the highway, and they were rescued so early from a dull, boring day of check station duty.

And I finally had some coffee to see me through the morning.

Lukewarm as it was.

The day wasn't boring for me, though. First deer hunter arrived seven minutes after I did, before I got everything set up. The first hunter with a deer pulled in five minutes later. And it was steady traffic from then on.

Had a hunter's tag taped to the deer's antlers with hospital tape. A first for me. The hunter, as I carefully tried to peel the tape off to check the tag, spent the entire time picking keds off her deer's muzzle. Almost frantic to get all those "ticks" out of their SUV.

Another younger female hunter had her deer tagged with one of those plastic pouches that pins through the deer's ear. She dug into the pouch and handed me the tag.

I thought it odd the signature on the tag said her name was "William".

Odder still that it was an elk tag, on a mule deer.

And so, I was less surprised to find it was a tag from a 2000 license, not a 2005.

It's her Dad's earpin pouch.

Maybe he should clean it out once in a while. At least once a year.

And the paranoid part of me wonders how often I have been handed an old tag, and not noticed?

Did you know we had passenger rail service through our state again?

I didn't.

The tracks through our southern neighbor state closed by landslides again?

The late morning and early afternoon were really busy. Didn't even bother getting back into the truck, because before you could get the door shut, there'd be another vehicle coming down the highway. At times had five to six outfits backed up in my little pullout.

During one of those four-truck rushes, I looked up from the deer in truck #1 to see our A-Number One Boss standing next to truck #2.

Oookay.

When I get back to their truck, we shake hands, and I ask what brought him back to his old neighborhood.

Hunting blue grouse. They got five.

"Do you want to see them?", pointing to the cooler at the bottom of a fully stacked camper shell.

No.

"Do you want to check our licenses?"

No.

Don't know if those were the right responses for getting into trouble or not, but with traffic backed up onto the highway, the last thing I need is to be checking wingless grouse (hence no data) and bird licenses on a busy deer check station.

(But a couple top bosses ago, a new game warden happened upon the then A-Number One Boss fishing, and asked him for his fishing license. Boss didn't have one. And there ended a wildlife career. (The boss's, not the warden's.) So this boss may not be happy I didn't check his.)

Had several outfits stop by that hadn't been hunting at all. Just out enjoying the fall colours. They said Aspen Alley was just great.

And all I got to see was the yellow detritus they left in my parking lot.

When business slowed down to a steady rumble, I amused myself by watching the prairie dog at the other end of my parking area. Busily stuffing itself on roadside greens, oblivious to my traffic.

A father and son came out, and chose my station as the place to decide where to take their deer for processing. Here, locally, in the home town, or in University Town, where I assume the son is at college.

Father opted for University Town.

He wanted to see "Miss Cleavage" again. A university student who worked part-time at the receiving desk of that town's processor.

And with that statement, it was decided.

I wonder if her boss knows what is drawing some of his business?

I wonder if our local processor knows why he is losing some of his?

Traffic increased again in the evening, with multiple vehicles in my lot, waiting for my attention. As I crawled into the back of yet another pickup, a hunter I do not know came over and quietly said, "Hey young man. There's a burger and shake waiting for you on your front seat."

And then he left.

Several vehicles later, I got to see if he was kidding.

He wasn't.

There, on my seat, was a McD's bag. With a warm double quarter-pounder and a cold chocolate shake.

Cool.

A gift which I quickly snarfed down. In between the following three or four trucks.