slow opening day

Yes, the highway reconstruction is drawing near to being done. They're at the reclamation stage. And so, for the morning, I got to smell straw.

Not necessarily a bad thing, you know. The smell of dried grass, and just a touch of mold.

Like a barn.

Which brought back many pleasant memories. Of swinging on a thick rope at neck-breaking heights from one hayloft to another. Using hay bales as forts in wars with air rifles and BB guns. Checking for new, huge brown eggs. And feral, still-blind kittens.

Not unpleasant memories at all.

But the day was spent looking at these.

And an abundant supply of these.

Even had to ask one hunter to pick one off my neck, 'cause I feel it crawling up towards my ear.

Probably the nicest buck of the day was this one.

And yes, we weren't just looking at deer. We were sampling deer.

I had the same CWD technician down to help as last year. His first day of cutting deer throats after half a year spent trapping grizzlies and setting remote cameras up in the wilderness. It was a slow opening day (only about 35 deer), so we spent considerable time standing outside and talking. Primarily about what his plans for the future should be.

Does he take the 12-month temp job that will finally give him the experience for the permanent job that he wants?

Which happens to be the same as mine.

Or should he take the Master's degree project that he's been offered, and spend at least two years at university? And then be qualified for the job, plus have a Master's degree for other options down the road?

At first I was flattered that he would want my professional advice. And I gave plenty of it to him. It wasn't until much later in the day that I realized it wasn't my opinions he wanted.

Just my plans.

We had lots of truckloads of nonresidents come through, several commenting "You were here last time we drew licenses!"

Yep. My 32nd consecutive October 1st, parked right exactly here.

One of them asked, "When you gonna retire?"

And I gave the same answer I give everybody...

My finance manager (i.e. the wife) says I have to work for ten more years.

Which seems to stun most folks. I suspect with the grey, thinning hair and all the sun-dried skin, I look a lot older than I am. And yes, ten more years will get me to social security, and extend our health insurance. But the real reason is that she can't retire for ten more years, and she says there's no way I'm staying home and sitting on my butt while she goes off to work.

Ten more years it is.

But when I gave that answer this time, I saw my assistant's face fall. And then it struck me.

He doesn't want a job like mine.

He wants my job!

The reason for the question about a one-year job versus a two-year degree is because he wanted to know when I was going to retire, and did he have time to go get his Master's?

Ten more years. He's worked temp for the outfit for over three years already.

He was kinda subdued all the rest of the day.

In our discussions about his career plans, he ended up asking about my advanced degree. He seemed impressed about all the classes in nuclear chemistry, nuclear physics, dosimetry and radiation sciences. Lots of heavy math.

And yes, this was in the days of slide rules. Electronic calculators were a new thing, and half a month's salary.

Oddly enough, shortly after that conversation a scruffy, dirty hunter driving Idaho plates stopped by. The CWD guy was busy cutting a deer's neck, so the hunter and I visited off to the side. About his hunt this year, and about friends in common.

And the one who recently passed.

As my friend hopped into his muddy truck and drove away back into the hunting fields, I asked my tech...

He doesn't look like a nuclear physicist, does he?

But he is.

About the only novel thing through the station was the deer you see above getting his throat sliced.

Because there, stuck in his right antler was...

The broadhead of an arrow.

Some bowhunter got that close to killing the buck of their dreams.

And failed.

But the buck's luck ran out.

The day after bow season ended.