Shannon would have loved this morning. A thousand shades of grey. The country along the divide was all still swathed with snow, and with the sun well below the horizon, all was grey. Grey fields sprinkled with dark grey clumps of sage, light grey snowbanks covering the hills, and dark grey sky beyond. Thin clouds covered the eastern sky, in bands of lightening grey.

Even the road was grey. Light grey travel lanes, banked by the nearly black, but not quite, dark grey shoulders. Stretching out before us in blankets of grey snow.

The only color at all was the yellow stripes down the middle of the highway. And the red and green glow from the dash lights.

As we passed over the Continental Divide (the real one, not the fake divide marked with Highway Department signs), a tinge of pink began to emerge in the east.

Five miles into the desert, this

is what we saw.

Got to the first lek about five minutes before sunrise, although who could tell, with the thin grey clouds covering the eastern sky.

Forty-four cocks, and at least 4 hens. Was almost through with my second count when I suddenly had two heelers trying to crawl across my lap to the window. Took a second to realize what got them stirred up.

Coyotes. At least two coyotes howling from the sage, somewhere north of the lek. Couldn't spot them, but they were close. Should be denning right now.

Grouse were strutting on the second lek, with more hens than cocks. Nobody on the third, but they haven't used that site for over ten years, so that's no surprise.

Had to work a bit on snowbound two-track roads to get to the right spot to view the fourth lek of the morning. Birds still going at it, but a few are walking off already.

When we were far enough from that lek, I let the sisters out for a race. And a little hide-and-seek.

Parked with a stand of tall sage on my left. Perfect hiding cover. So, instead, I dove into the shallow ditch on the right while the sisters ran. And the ruse worked. They scoured and scoured the tall sage before using their noses to track me down.

Little maskless heeler won. And lost, since she came back with three large cactus spines in one foot.

Still grouse on the last two leks, well to the north of the fourth, in high country with more snow. Only tracks on the road in front of mine were the ones laid down by the game warden's truck last night.

Time to head home. Got a set of environmental comments that have to be on the boss's computer by 13:00. Decided to head farther west, and then south to the interstate to get home. Need to scout roads in that country, and besides, I hate going back the same way I came.

At 0801, the cell phone rings. The boss, reminding me about the comments due at 13:00.

Twenty-five miles later it rings again. My compadre to the west, asking about three leks that are about to get 20 gas wells on top of them. These strutting grounds are technically in his district (which is why the environmental documents on the wells went to him), but nobody over there ever checked them, so I have been trespassing to the west a little bit for about, oh, say 15 years.

Had to park the outfit to keep from losing his signal. As we were saying our goodbyes, the local county deputy pulls up. Haven't visited since about September, so we catch up out there in the middle of nothing (unless you count gas wells). A three-cigarette visit. (You should have seen the heelers leaning out the window, trying to figure out why this guy had fire in his mouth. They don't see a lot of smokers.)

Seems he harvested a "buffalo" last fall. With his .44. Yes, it was a bison, but he called it a buffalo. Home grown on a ranch north of here. Pretty expensive hunt, but he filled up a freezer with delicious buffalo meat for 34¢ a pound. And is having the hide tanned and the skull cleaned.

And he says he had a walking cane made out of the dick.

Really.

A full-sized walking stick, with brass eagle head handle, made of bison penis. Says it's quite a conversation piece.

I'll bet.

Apparently a friend of his has one also. He reports it looks like it is made from a light-colored wood. His friend tells folks it is a Mediterranean salt-cedar. That you can still taste the salt.

He doesn't tell them what it really is until after they lick it.

Really.