I'd been driving the back roads since a little after sunrise. Searching for those little distinctive patches of red or white out in the ocean of bluish-green sage. Looking for antelope to classify. And been finding a lot. It was a good morning.

I crested over a ridge, and a buck jumped up on the right, less than 100m away. Didn't even need the binocs to classify him.

Another antelope jumped up 300m behind him. A doe. And out of the corner of my eye I caught movement far on the left. A line of dark brown objects coming out of a draw, up onto the sagebrush bench that my road is following.

Elk.

They're more than a half mile distant, but I can tell they are bulls without using the optics. They just look and behave different.

I swing the scope on them. The scope that is permanently mounted on my window on these working mornings.

Yep, all bulls. They aren't looking back at me, so they don't know I'm here. But they are seriously filing out of that draw, headed up on the bench ahead of me. Jockeying for position.

I use the term "bulls" in the specific sense. While some would include the yearling spikes as "bulls", calling them "spike bulls", they're not to me. Those would just be spikes.

But these are all bulls. All branch-antlered. Some people would immediately start trying to count the antler points, as if it were a way of keeping score on this experience. I don't.

They're really impressive now, with their antlers covered in velvet. The hairs of the velvet are the same color as the rest of the elk, making them look that much larger, that much more magnificent.

As they crest the ridge, they finally get their order settled down. The jostling is actually quite gentle. Their antlers are fragile now, and they know it. The lead bull is huge. Not big enough to scratch his ass with his antlers, but he could get to his hips.

Their heads are held high, which lays their antlers along their backs and opens their throats to their lungs. But they haven't seen me yet. This is no panic, just a wise move to more protected ground. I assume they heard my truck.

I continue down the road, picking up a couple more antelope. I'm close, and the elk know what they are trying to avoid now.

I swing the scope onto a group of five antelope on a ridgetop, and when I swing back to the elk, they are gone.

Just like that. Evaporated into the sage.