The meeting started with the obligatory annual viewing of the defensive driving videos. My thoughts went to the reality of winter driving, rather than the generic situations of the video. Like us having to follow a semi tanker traveling at 34 mph for over eight miles. See, he/she was the first heavy traffic on the highway that morning, stirring up a huge cloud of impenetrable snow in its wake.

There's a tanker in there, I promise.

Really.

And not that far ahead of us, either.

With no safe way to pass. Twice oncoming vehicles came bursting out of that white cloud. One being a snowplow. Finally, after eight miles of straight, slow highway, we reached Ice Slough (where pioneers were able to dig ice out of the ground in the middle of summer, a fantastic treat for wagon travel). Here the highway makes a slight bend to the right, allowing my passenger and I to scan two miles of highway ahead.

No oncoming traffic.

Wait a quarter or mile or so for any car that may have been hidden just ahead, and then into the blind white we went.

Even though we knew the road ahead was empty, it is still a weird feeling to be passing when you cannot see the road you're on, much less any of the road in front of you. As soon as we were through, in open clear highway, we radio'd to the warden behind us, still stuck behind the tanker, that the coast was clear.

And waited for his green truck to emerge from the cloud.

That is winter driving in our state.

After the driving videos came the bi-ennial viewing of the sexual harassment video. During the scenarios discussing quid pro quo harassment (the offering of promotions or favorable reviews in direct exchange for sexual favors), one of the four females in attendance loudly announced "We just want chocolate!"

The same woman, my younger twin, later passed around a couple pair of elk teeth. These upper canines, called elk ivories, are quite prized in the elk hunting world. She's been carrying these in her pockets for years, one pair since the 2002 hunting season.

They're just about polished enough now to be mounted in jewelry. She and her partner in crime showed me bracelets with inset elk ivories they each have had made by a jeweler in Buffalo Bill Town.

Nice.

Need to think about that for the wife some time. Got a half dozen pair sitting in plastic cases that would be better on display.

Guess I better put a pair in my pocket.

One of our wardens received his pin and certificate for thirty years on the job. The pin got passed around the room.

Not something you see every day, you know. And now we all know...

For thirty years, you get a pin with three rubies.

The warden next to me leaned over to whisper "Fifteen months."

Fifteen months until he can/will retire. Why a person would count down the months in a job like this is beyond me. I asked him, then what are you going to do?

"Anything I want," was the reply.

Aren't you now?

But given the piece of state he gets to call his own, I suspect many a younger warden will be counting down those same 15 months, waiting for a chance to apply for a transfer. Or, as was said about his predecessor in this primo district, whenever one of them shakes his hand, they'll be secretly checking his pulse at the same time.

The big treat of the day?

Free lunch.

More than that, though... the lunch was free moose burgers. Courtesy of the big boss, and his successful moose hunt this fall. Burgers that were grilled on the patio, in the deep snow.

Even had old boss there, who shared details from his tour of the New England fall foliage last October. (With tales shared by a fed who stopped by, a native of Weymouth.) Something you just can't experience working for this outfit until after you've retired.

And then it was the long drive home. Alone, this time, since the enforcement people still had tests to take. Pleasant enough while there was still light...

A little less so after the sun was gone.