The end of strutting season is drawing near, and I have way too many leks yet to check. Starting to get the stress of trying to decide who is most important? Which leks need to be checked?

Took off early for the desert this morning, without really knowing where I was going. But either way I would be going past the mine, so I had fifty minutes to decide... my favorite fun leks out by the Honeycombs, or the leks south of Crooks Mountain?

The ones south of Crooks are about to get a dozen seismograph lines on top of them, so professional judgment won out over personal preference (even though I'm packing the extra five gallons of fuel to ensure I could get back from the Honeycombs, if I so chose). Didn't really decide until the last ten meters, though.

Really.

Birds were surprisingly cooperative, given the clear skies and high moon. Grouse were strutting on all the grounds I expected, and got good counts off a couple that I haven't really hit well for a couple years.

Nobody strutting on the second lek, though. But when we got out to check for sign, the sisters flushed up five cocks from the sage. Either these guys quit early, or something had flushed them before we got there.

Chalk up two more mountain plovers (that rhymes with "lovers", not "clovers"). Each being obviously territorial in low sagebrush, not grassland.

The habitat type the experts say they do not use for nesting.

Someone needs to tell the plovers.

Also nine elk just off the Divide (the Atlantic branch still, but over 60 miles from here). Five cows, two small spikes that still haven't shed last year's antlers, and two calves.

Of course, as of tomorrow, those calves will officially become yearlings. But today they are still calves.

We were cruising down the sandy county road, headed home, when the right side of the truck just dropped, like I had fallen into the shoulder. Truck started wobbling and heard "fwump-fwump-fwump", just as if we had blown the right rear tire.

Which we had.

First flat with the new rig. Now, I know the jack handle is under the hood (where else could they put it?), but where is the jack? I vaguely remember seeing it when transferring gear into the rig, under the rear seat, but was it under the little driver's side, or the bench on the passenger's side (which is heaped with gear and the sleeping bag).

Now this is out in the middle of nowhere. But before I can look to find the jack, along come two pickups. Government horse wranglers, stopping to see if I need help.

And let them find out I don't even know where the jack is yet? Are you kidding?

No thanks, it's just a flat. I'll be fine.

Was still trying to extract the jack when yet a third truck went by, from the opposite direction. Broken down in bloody Grand Central Station, I see.

Used to be I could change a flat in under 15 minutes. With a bumper jack, tie iron and loose tire, it goes quick. But now you have to open the hood for the jack handle, open the side door for the jack (restraining the heelers with your not-so-free hand), hold the bench up with your shoulder (easier than moving all the gear on top) and undo two bolts just to get the jack.

And the spare is under the bed, which is efficient, but slow and dirty to get out.

Took 43 minutes for one lousy tire. ('Course that includes a few minutes hiking back with the sisters to see what could possibly blow out the sidewall of a tire on a well-traveled sandy road. A rock. A flat piece of sandstone in the bank of sand that broke in half and went through the sidewall in two places.) Tire is almost certainly ruined.

Stop in at the Goodyear place when we get to town. Tell the gal at the counter about my problem. Need somebody to look at the tire to see if it's fixable, or needs to be replaced.

I'm leaning on the tailgate when Scotty comes out. As soon as he sees me, he's says "Oh, he needs a new tire."

Would have been nice if he'd looked at the tire first.

But he was right. Sidewall shot. They sell me a "used" tire to match. Less than 600 miles on it. A trade-in tire from somebody who didn't like the tires that came with their new truck.

My local game warden's old tire. Been waiting four months for me to come along and buy it back. Works fine.

But I need to go outside now and store it back under the bed.