No lek surveys today. Had the alarm set, and even got up to start the hot water, but then decided not to go.

End of the month. Need to get the monthly reports done. About half done now.

The fun fact for April? 3,998 new miles on the rig. And probably almost half of those were not on asphalt.

In reviewing my planner to figure out how to code my days, I came across a note I scribbled for this diary, and then forgot:

"Wild Horse Basin"

We were headed back from our lek surveys in the desert when I heard one of the neighboring wardens come on the radio, calling for his biologist:

"You anywhere near Wild Horse Basin?"

"No, but I could be in an hour or so."

"Well, could you come over and give me some assistance?"

A pause...

"You stuck again?"

Now, this is kind of a break in protocol. You never know who might be listening. And snickering. Sometimes these conversations carry for hundreds of miles. You don't just come out and make somebody admit that they're stuck.

In our region, the code phrase is "and bring the kit." This lets the other party know you're stuck and need help, without broadcasting to the world that you've gone and got your rig stuck.

When I worked for the Forest Service in the north part of the state, we field grunts created our own '5' code, similar to the standard police '10' codes, for calling for help without everyone, including the bosses across the basin, knowing you buried your truck in mud again.

5-1 was "I'm stuck and need help."

5-2 was "I'm really stuck. Bring some other people."

5-3 was "I'm really stuck bad. Bring everybody, and a winch."

Lasted for a while, but after several episodes, the bosses began inquiring about the '5' codes. And we switched to something else.

So, the only response the warden was able to make to his biologist's query was "Yeah."

To add more embarassment? His biologist asked:

"Are you in the same spot as last week?"

Some friend.

The warden's reply?

"No, but I can see it from here."

And that was all.