Slowly, they approach.

They come in packs. Pigtails bouncing, some swinging their small pink and yellow and mint green baskets, others fighting to keep their empty plastic Wal-Mart bags from blowing away in the cold Casper wind.

A giant rabbit greets hunters at the door in a building at the Natrona County Fairgrounds. The rabbit's perpetual, mute grin and larger-than-life ears scare a little girl in a puffy, bubblegum pink coat. She abruptly turns away and tries to run, before her mother catches her small hand just in time to keep her from being lost in the crowd.

Noon fast approaches. Families line up around the edges of an unnatural, indoor field of eggs. Nothing hides these colorful ovals from sight - so much for a "hunt" - and the only challenge for pastel prize-grabbers is the uneven ratio of hunters to eggs.

An announcer who obviously holds the microphone too close to his mouth almost comically yells to the crowd.

"You guys ready to get your Easter eggs?" he blares.

Hundreds of children shout in the affirmative. The announcer counts down from three. And they're off!

It's an achingly slow, often wobbly stampede.

Adults shuffle along behind toddlers, their tiny legs slowing the race. The smaller children fall, unsure of how to walk among the sliding, ovular eggs. Older children take advantage of the parental distraction and scurry toward their colorful prizes, squatting and grabbing as they scoot along the floor.

Eggs break open. Tinfoiled chocolate flies everywhere. A mother notices and reaches down for a piece, slowly unwrapping it and covertly shoving it in her mouth before returning her attention to the children in front of her.

It's 12:03 p.m., only a few minutes after the start of the race. The tinfoiled treasure hunt is over.

Parents and children gather outside in the snow. The giant rabbit waves, still smiling, as hunters walk to the parking lot, looking into baskets and counting at least a handful of eggs.

Contact reporter Megan Lee at (307) 266-0589 or megan.lee@trib.com