Today was supposed to be a day off. The first since August.

That theory ended with the phone call at eight o'clock. Not a big deal, nor a large time consumer. But the demands of the job, and the season, just kept intervening all day long.

Like the disgruntled deer hunter who called because he hasn't been able to find a big buck deer.

Big, as in scoring >170, for those who know what that means. He's been looking hard he says, but judging from the answers to my questions, he hasn't been looking far. Or wide. He found several 4-points, but not big ones. No monsters.

I point out, when we issue those special licenses, we aren't planning on every hunter getting a record-book deer. Nor even half, or a quarter. Maybe just a handful. I also happily point out, perhaps unkindly, we already had a 190+ buck taken in his area during the archery season.

"Is it too late to turn my tag back in?" he asks.

Umm, yeah, We don't do that here. Or any other state I know of.

Mind you...

His hunting season doesn't even start until tomorrow. And he's already discouraged and complaining.

Geez.

So, of the domestic tasks I had planned for the day, well, laundry got done. And the dishes. The bowl of sloe were pitted and squished, yielding a pittance of juice I know not what to do with. Maybe tomorrow's breakfast. Heelers got their pills, but not without fierce resistance by the little maskless one.

Good thing she likes ham. A lot.

And 1,139 photos spanning the past five days finally got downloaded. Here's one:

Yeah, that's the view from my office window on Sunday. Kinda hard to take, I know. But at least it keeps changing.

Except for tomorrow, and the two days after that. When I will once again be staring at the same stretch of highway for ten to eleven hours.

And cutting deer throats.