Heron Lake Plateau Discussing conspiracies and prison facilities

The sun was on a downward arc, and after the drizzles earlier in the day, it was nice to see some light even though it wasn't going to be long-lasting.  Quixote had headed to the lake to try to catch another shorebird, but he hadn't counted on how the rain had expanded the squishy mud from just a foot or two to be significantly farther than he'd been thinking.  Well, that nixed that idea -- no way he was gonna be able to creep up close enough to be able to catch one if he was making gross, comic-style sound effects every time he took a step.

Sigh.  He turned away and dropped his head to sweep for signs of deer.  There had to be a lot that came through here, right?  It was an ideal territory for them -- grass to graze, water to drink, blah blah -- so maybe just by keeping his eyes out he'd be able to find something that they could go and fill the cache with once he'd figured out who all might be good to drag along.  He wasn't going to be able to take one down all by himself -- fawn, sure, but an adult would likely be way too uncooperative for Quixote to try to be awesome on his own.  First thing was first, though: planning.