So the new boss was there, maybe a little late in the morning. He spent part of his summers growing up in this community, so the standing around on check station for the opening weekend of deer season has been like homecoming, or maybe more like a class reunion, for him. Lots of old friends he hasn't seen for a long time.

Me, I just worked away as usual, along with my part-Lebanese assistant. Checking deer, listening to disgruntled hunters, and cutting deer throats to get samples for chronic wasting disease.

I had warned the CWD tech to expect throat botts somewhere during the weekend, and today he finally cut into a deer that had some.

Had a mouthful, so to speak. He didn't scream like a girl, but it still grossed him out some.

Guess they don't see these too much in Wisconsin.

As usual, I never let my camera be too far away, and managed to get shots of some of the nicer deer that came through:

and a few oddities.

The local game warden and his ride-a-long joined us near sunset, and there were then five of us to process the hunters through. After one wave of mostly empty hunting vehicles we gathered by the trucks to await the next arrivals. And I turned my camera on to peek at some of the most recent shots I'd taken.

The new boss noticed the ever-present camera apparently aiming at the gravel lot and snidely asked the others, "What's he taking pictures of now? Rocks?"

No, the gal in the last truck, showing me her purple thong.

"Riiiight. You wish!"

He's new here. It's not his fault he can't tell when I'm lying.

And when I'm not.