This evening's route took us straight east of town, following the railroad tracks. A desolate route, with little water, and few antelope. After waving to the young woman with a child at the remote historical Fort, who waved back later as she passed us on the highway, we headed back to town.

From there, the heeler sisters and I headed northeast, along the Golf Course road. After driving past home, just to drive the heelers a little crazy.

After miles of empty, dry sage and saltbush, the narrow, paved road drops down along the river, into the cottonwoods, choked with climbing vines.

It was here that I heard just a snippet of a radio message. Dispatch calling a warden, in a town I didn't hear.

They had a report of a deer with a jumprope tangled in its antlers.

Really.

Now, I have heard of deer getting wire tangled in their antlers. And rope is always a possibility.

But a jumprope?

I mean, these ropes have handles on them. They're not the sort of thing you leave hanging up somewhere a deer could walk into it.

I mean, usually there are hands attached to the handles of a jumprope. Otherwise it just sits on the floor or in a drawer.

How in the world do you get one in a buck deer's antlers? Did he try to join in?

There is a story I would love to hear.

Speaking of deer... I don't know the numbers of the layout of this nine-hole course along the river, but there were five mule deer does and their six fawns feeding and bedded on one of the greens by the river.

Peacefully ignoring the four friends I spotted trying to get their putts in on the next green over, less than 30 meters away. They waved as I went by, just as oblivious to the deer. A regular obstacle on this course.

Like the dozen antelope feeding on the western fairway, also ignored by the two couples carting their way through.