"We have pie!"

I was working my way through a small crowd of trucks of hunters that had pulled into our check station when my partner and CWD sampler came trotting up with the news.

"The family that owns that barn over there? The mother just had her sons drop us off a couple slices of pie."

It was a half hour or so before we got the crowd gone and the deers' throats all slit and sampled, but there it was, on my dash.

A slice of home-baked apple pie, in a sandwich bag. Given for no particular reason, other than to share a dessert with a couple fellows who are working hard on a cold and windy day.

This is a good place to live.