cutthroat day

But there were still enough hunters passing through with game that I could actually look at, and maybe learn something about, like its age.

Otherwise, I was challenged to find anything to do. The Sudoku puzzle in yesterday's paper didn't last long.

So, I took pictures.

Pictures of heelers, of course.

Pictures of the moon.

And tourists that stopped to read the sign.

And even a plane that passed over.

I took pictures of the far mountain, as the day wore on.

And the shifting shadows on the hills to the west.

After a couple hours, I was joined by a cutthroat crew. A couple of our fish guys who had volunteered to help man the station, and help cut deer throats to pull retropharyngeal lymph nodes for testing for chronic wasting disease.

They had less to do than I. But did manage to pull 11 samples during the day.

I had forewarned them about the boom and bust nature of check station duty (four of their 11 samples arrived at the same time, in the same trucks), so when conversation lagged after lunch, they retreated to the reading they had wisely brought.

A warden pulled in to see how our day was progressing, without even a twitch from the fish truck.

"Is he asleep?" was the incredulous question. As if prompted, the patient throat cutter quietly turned a page, and continued on.

About the only excitement was a fellow who came out from town, with his wife and a question.

How can he tell if his deer is safe to eat? Seems he shot a deer in the south seasons which had a wound in the hip. And now, that meat smells funny, and he's not sure he wants to feed it to his family.

I try to explain the method taught to me by our veterinarian, of checking the lymph glands through the various quadrants of the carcass to see if an infection had spread.

He's not getting it.

But, I'll be here all day, if you want to bring it out...

An hour later, right after lunch, they return with their funny smelling deer. And yeah, it had a large scab on the butt where it had been hurt, and had been healing up. And that hind leg is green...

The lymph node for the shoulder on that side of the animal is also a little green, suggesting an infection had passed through the lymphatic system. But the lymph node is also soft like jelly, which is really weird. Like it was decomposing...

I spread the legs and look inside the body cavity.

And it is full of mold.

Not the fine dusting of mold that you want to see in carefully aged meat. No, this is a coral reef of brightly coloured molds. Everywhere. I cut into the hip to look for yet another lymph node, and find...

Maggots.

And not tiny little, newly hatched maggots. These are full grown, active fly larvae, plowing around in the interstitial spaces between the muscles.

Otherwise known as the "meat".

When did you kill this deer?

"The first," he answers, proudly. Seems his granddaddy taught him to let his deer hang until "there was mildew inside".

Well, yeah. A dusting of mold on the crotch, sure. But everywhere? You let this hang in your garage for two weeks?

Do you see these maggots?

"Yeah, we've had them before, but you trim around them and it's fine. We've just never had one smell this way before."

Well, no wonder. But yeah, the muscles on the other side of the deer are red and inviting. If I had a hibachi going, I'd have no qualms about carving off a steak and grilling it up.

'Cept for the maggots, that is.

Me, I would call this "waste". But if he and his family actually eat meat like this, then it isn't legally wasted, is it?

So, I go back to my task at hand. We cut the deer's throat, releasing another hoard of even larger maggots, and check the lymph nodes up there.

Yep, the one on the infected, injured side is three times normal size, and greenish. The other side is small and perfectly typical grey. So, based on what the vet taught me, the far side is probably safe to eat, but I would recommend against eating anything on the side with the old wound.

Myself, I wouldn't eat any of it, but if he and his family come to the same decision, then he will have legal issues to discuss with a warden.

I cannot see the wife's face in the truck. I don't know if my prognosis saves her family half a valuable meat source, or condemns her to preparing something she would prefer to never have in her house.

As the day progresses, I continue to amuse myself with cheap digital images. To the amusements of my assistants. The younger fish guy points to a disintegrating contrail in the sky, and announces "Now that's worth a picture."

Yeah, it was.

And I grabbed a shot of the gal who comes out from town regularly for a hike with her dogs.

Mind you, town is immediately over the hills on the left. And we spent part of the evening keeping track of a vehicle that wandered and parked over near those valleys.

They came out just after sunset. Elk hunters. Seems there were 20-30 elk over there in those draws, within sight of us.

All day.