It began to rain lightly sometime well before sunrise, so I moved my sleeping bag a few feet back under the edge of the metal roof. None of this silenced the frog that had croaked all night long some 20 feet to my left. I did enjoy the singing. The lightest of rain on a bare metal roof can sound like a monsoon in full roar. But, it was one long rolling rumble of the thunder that signaled the time to rise. And, with that, the rain stopped.
I ran off into the woods for an hour and a half to work on my own project, after which I returned as I was the bannock chef for breakfast. I was once complimented by the eldest elder of the Sauk Tribe for my frybread and for some reason the Smoke Farmer's like it too. Flour and baking powder...go figure. G made a fine set of scrambled eggs with left over sweet potatoes and shredded beef from last nights meal.
We hike the creek today. Where it exits the hill it is spread out in shin deep flood, as it has been all winter. When we walk the creek, where the creek is actually in the creek, I point out the beaver sign of cut trees, peeled logs, a drag or two. We end out at the river where my track casting assistant from yesterday teaches one of the others how to cast a track. It is all deer tracks, although there is a fawn in there. The two of them cast a good adult deer track.
On the return, we stop at the double log bridge over the creek and the kids spend a half hour jumping into the cold water.