As we've said before...

Check station work is boooring.

And much of today was. If you're a heeler. But for me it was terribly filled. A couple dozen critters checked,

and long visits with friends I haven't seen for months, or years. Including a couple deputies, one with the scoop on the latest domestic violence incident a couple blocks from home.

The Californians with tons of questions who I've already talked to several times over the phone in the past few months. Bowhunters with tales of close encounters with elk in the woods, who are bailing out of the forest before all the gun hunters arrive this weekend.

The pronghorn buck we chased off the highway first thing this morning came back. Twice.

Two different hunters asked if they could shoot one of his buddies just around the bend.

Nope. Inside the city limits. Leave 'em alone, please.

Roy, the hunter who has driven out here from Georgia almost every year of the past 20-25 years is still making the trip. As did Terry from Oregon who again lucked out with both antelope and deer licenses, and is just as excited as on his first trip what, 10-12 years ago? Won't be long before he's bringing the kids to hunt.

The US Marshall honked as he went by. We did our visiting on Tuesday. And he was right, they were front page on Wednesday's papers.

There's a 94-year old gentleman in the hospital today whose health I know too much about. Thanks to two different grand children (fully grown) stopping by at different times who gave me updates about his latest emergency call. (Basically he's too weak to make it to hunting camp this fall, so he's in a pout throwing snit fits at the medical staff.)

Two different outfits from opposite ends of the country (almost literally... California and Texas) stopped by just because they wanted to see the heelers.

Really.

They're almost famous, I guess. Both groups noticed the masked one's lost of vision.

But most of the traffic was headed out, not in. Folks setting up camps for the opening of deer season on Monday. I'm not sure, but I suspect if you don't already have a campsite on the forest... you're not going to find one. Unless you find some place a bowhunter just left.

And we watched the trains on the Trans-Continental railroad.

And the other miscellany that travels down a major highway.

But I was busy. Took over an hour and a half to finish lunch.

When the wife came out after lunch to visit, it was a half-hour before I had time to get back to the truck to say "Hi".

She suggested I take the opportunity to empty the pee bottle jammed in the truck door pocket that someone had interrupted me while filling...