A robin in the Box Elder tree was singing his opinion of the coming day. The eastern sky over the treeline was turning the color of nearly ripe raspberries as you poured your first cup of coffee and headed out onto the deck overlooking the tracks. Now the sun starts to burn through the remaining mists in Court Creek valley.
Rabbits play on the foundation of the old station next to the tracks.
A distant rooster sound reveille, and in the nearby timber a few wild turkeys answer. As you sip your coffee a rumble in the east announces a westbound train working up the valley. The railheads bending around the curve a mile away begin to glow, then a trio of headlights pushes into view. Below you the crossing bells start, the flashers blink awake and the gates groan as they drop. A minute later FRED disappears into the mist and all is quiet again except for perhaps a few coyotes whose morning patrol was interrupted by the passing train.