night station 2

Wondering if two of us could actually handle the traffic to come. Wondering if there would be any traffic to come.

But come they did.

You have to get about 20 miles south of town for most people to be able to hunt, and the best hunting in the evening goes right up to sunset, so right on schedule, about 30 minutes after sunset, here they came. From this spot you can see their headlights as they come down the hill, a mile off. And it was a steady stream. Fortunately, one of the first vehicles down was our second warden, so there were three of us working traffic.

And each driver dutifully stopped at the station, where they were greeted by a game warden.

Who either sent them down the highway if they were empty-handed, or sent them into one of our cone stalls if they had game.

As on the night before, the warden would check their paperwork and where they were hunting...

While I checked and recorded critters. Including a record book pronghorn

and a freak mule deer buck (the rest of the oddity photos are coming, Jules).

Traffic was slower, and for the most part, the three of us handled it well. With brief interludes of standing together, there in the dark, on the shoulder of the highway. Sharing war stories of the weekend as we waited for the next batch of headlights.

One of these was a truck, loaded with camping gear, pulling a flatbed trailer loaded with ATVs. Came in a little before nine o'clock. With the deer tied in on the very back, almost as an afterthought. The driver used to live here (one of the 150 families our community lost when the railroad decided to consolidate their crew centers, and closed ours), so I suspect he left the deer available in the back so it would be easier for me to check them.

Problem was, they had a different number of license tags than they had deer carcasses. And not the usual problem of having a lost tag.

They had a lost deer.

The dragging tarp and rope was the first clue, but he had to dig through the remaining two carcasses to make certain.

They were missing a doe.

Somewhere in the 35 miles of road behind them they had lost a deer. With a three hour drive yet to go to get home. You should have seen his face. I think he would rather have cut off a toe than turn around this late at night, but that's what they did. I did think to ask the folks in the next truck if they had seen a deer in the road, and they had.

"About eight miles back."

Well, it could be worse. And back into the darkness our luckless hunters went.

A few trucks later, another driver reported seeing a deer carcass in the road. But it was right at the beginning of the pavement. Eighteen miles down, not eight. So, about a half hour when they returned without the missing doe, one of the wardens got to give the Capitol City hunters the bad news. Or good news, depending on which is more important to you... deer meat or sleep.

And back they went again.

We didn't wait for them to return. After ten to fifteen minutes of dark, empty highway, we called it a day.

No reports of a deer being found in the road, and no reports of deer hunters falling asleep on the interstate, so I assume all went well for my displaced friends.

As well as it can driving highways after midnight.

And they have another story of hunting misery to tell around campfires in the future.