We overslept again. Got up only about 20 minutes before sunrise and then had to hustle to get out country. Gotta quit staying up late with those damn diaries!

Still managed OK, found cocks on three of four strutting grounds, and I didn't expect them on the fourth. Nothing there now but three gas wells. There are stakes and flagging all around the third lek too, so I suspect those birds may be gone by next year. Enjoy your electrons, Californians.

Couldn't get to one lek. Bigggg puddle of melted snow in the road, about 3-4 trucks long. Ordinarily you could hit something like that at a good speed and coast through to the other side, but this morning it was frozen over. A layer of ice really slows a truck down. Probably wouldn't have made it to the other side. I've had water come in through the doors before, thank you very much. Discretion won out and we turned around. Now we have to spend another morning just to get to that lek... and the mornings are gonna get scarce soon.

About 25 years ago a wealthy nonresident bought a ranch out here to help expand his fortune, but it wasn't going to be through ranching. His plans didn't work out, so he quit payments and the ranch went to the insurer. With some coaxing and assistance of some conservation groups, the state bought the ranch for wildlife.

It has important wildlife values, but it also has some old ranch buildings. At the dedication gathering (it wasn't really a ceremony), I asked someone, from either the conservation group or the agency, what they would do with the buildings. His response was that they could burn them down, for all he cared. I was stunned. Someone so educated and aware of the direct and subtle values of wildlife habitat (as opposed to just caring about the critters themselves, which is pretty ignorant) had no comprehension of the value of human history. A mini-Taliban.

You see, I've been in those buildings. They were already dilapidated and unfit for use, which of course is what drew me in. They tell me these were the largest, state-of-the-art sheep shearing facilities in the world in their heyday.

You enter the shearing room the same way the sheep did (those woolly little engines DNA-designed to convert the sunlight stored in vegetation via photosynthesis into the long protein molecules we like to call wool and mutton). Through the sliding wood door, up the ramp covered with wooden slats so their hooves don't slip, and into the long shearing room. There were 12 open stalls for shearing(I've counted). Each has a chute covered with five boards that were lifted when the shearing was done. Then the little non-woolly engine was shoved down the chute to go harvest more sunshine. Wool was thrown on a conveyor that ran the length of the room into the weighing room, where it was then hauled by wagon to the nearby railroad.

But this fine example of early 20th century technology is not the neat part of this place. They apparently used an indelible black paint to mark their sacks of wool. And the men who worked here signed their names on the unfinished walls in that paint. Nearly thirty years of names, dates and home towns.

We stopped by this morning, since the snow was nearly gone, to check how they were.

E. Anthony, Springville Ill. 1928.

Leslie Thompson, Brigham City Utah May 18 1928.

J. Miller 5-12-36 Omaha Neb.

Ralph Hanks 1922.

Joaquin Felan.

H.M. Henslee 4-30-36.

Cruz J. Martinez.

Abel Espinoza 5/12/4? Taos NM.

J Beck 5-12-36 Richland MO.

Shorty 44.

Elmer Rausch, Wool Weigher from Wichita Kans was there at least twice, once in Apr 1936. So was Morten Richardson, in 1932 and again on May 5 1938.

W.F.C. left us a quick painting of a train on the nearby tracks, with a recognizable Scotty McKay Peak in the background. But his train is coming out of forested mountains. Wistful thinking about home?

There's Leo's name. I know his son and grandsons.

Ben Cardenos, Taos NM is signed at least twice. One entry includes "Curb Gone But Not Forgotten. Wool Sacker May 10, 1936." I have no idea of his meaning.

Harry Hensler labeled himself the "Pie eating Red Wool-man."

Carl Pearson was there Apr 30, 1930. So was Stormy, but he thought it was March. Had to paint that over and put in April. Imagine living a life where you didn't know what month it was.

My second-most favorite entry is "Jack Cairns, Top Weight in one sack 520#. 5/11/50." My favorite is the one written above it, with an arrow linking the two, "Henry Medina, Top Weight 522#, 5/15/50." Jack apparently scribbled a little note that his sack had "No Tags", as if that might make the 2 pound difference.

It was too dark and too cold to scribble all these signatures down. And the heeler sisters were starting to nose around in the dust and dirt. But someone needs to. Maybe this summer.