These moments on one of my favorite stretches of Lake Superior Beach to photograph were a brief respite from the droves of "leaf peepers" that descend upon the Northwoods in late September and early October. My intention was to grouse hunt along the Union River, as well as photograph there. The trolls were as thick as mosquitos in a UP cedar swamp in the first week of June. If you want to create panic, just walk up a trail with your shotgun grouse hunting and meet a family or two of leaf peeping down-staters who must immediately have visions of "Deliverance" and freeze in their tracks with a look between panic and some semblance of flight or fight. After those initial awkward moments during which time they accurately surmise that I am not a psychopath with a weapon, then predictably begins the all too familiar series of questions which for a local, seems like some variety of interrogation (for which I have become well rehearsed). Today, the elder female called her husband forth and proclaimed, "He lives here Bill!" Bills asks, "Do you need to hunt for food when you live here?- I mean there are probably not many grocery stores around eh?" The wife, Michelle, as she introduces herself, pronounces that they are from Ohio, near Cincinnati, and came to see the colors in their motorhome (a behemoth contraption with a 4WD Lexus in tow dwarfing my RAV4 in the parking area, making my beloved two track runner look as inconsequential as a discarded go kart. Michelle then embarks on a paranoid discourse that would make the most fervent Republican Tea Party conservative feel at home..."We heard that there are bears here that will kill you just for your graham crackers and marshmallows!" "We told the kids last night to stick close at all times." My friend, Wendy told us there have been sightings of Mountain Lions here too!" I then embark on my pre-rehearsed and often used empathic listening and calming intervention, assuring my nuclear family of errant Buckeyes that both they and their little pre-teen miscreants are all quite safe indeed. I noted that the last bear mischief I was aware of was four years hither, when a female backpacker on the Big Carp River Trail was faux charged by a sow with cubs. No injuries other than her likely urinated panties and hiking shorts. Michelle, Bill, Bubba and Bubbette ( I was not introduced to the pre-teen boy and girl who made little eye contact from their hand-held tablets) pronounced that they were glad to meet me and ventured back towards their large and safe sheetmetal container with 5000HP of diesel power to head for the Wisconsin Dells. Some days, even when I am not providing professional mental health care, it seems as though I am. Soon they will be gone and be replaced by rude snowmobilers from Chicago and Minneapolis who like to spend their money in the titty bars of Hurley, where the working whores care more about the size of billfolds than manners.