Twenty-three hours and fifty minutes after we were turned back by muddy roads on Thursday, the sisters and I were back at the gate off the highway just a few miles from Independence Rock. And this time the sandy road was passable, with only a few puddles and pools in the deep spots that we had to drive around.

The first strutting ground of the morning is a little different than most, in that the birds strut on a grassy slope down in a large draw, rather than on the exposed sage flats above. We got to the lek just minutes after sunrise, but found no birds.

Could it be too late in the season already?

As I made my notes, I noticed two shapes moving in the shadows. And then several more. Within minutes, nine cocks had walked out of the sage, and started to strut. I began to wonder if I'd spooked them when I drove in, flushing the birds off the lek.

Then nine more flew in, from the same direction as my approach.

Unlikely they would have fled towards a disturbance. I just got here before they did. This has happened a few times before in the past, almost always at this strutting ground. For some reason they don't arrive in this draw until after sunrise, whereas many leks are shutting down by that time.

Weird.

But the eighteen birds was all I found after 10 minutes, so it was off to lek number two. Which was empty, as it has been for many years.

The third lek of the morning has birds strutting in small clearings surrounded by fairly tall sage. Often all you can see is their heads peeking out over the brush. Which means, of course, that almost all hens are missed, and probably some cocks as well. I once bushwhacked across the sage to the top of the low hill just west of the lek, but that was rough and took forever.

Now I just stand on the cab of the truck. Counted 45 cocks from the driver's seat, 54 by standing on the top of the cab (strange place to leave muddy bootprints, though).

It's a lightly used two-track trail to the fourth and last lek, across a deep draw that you don't cross if there's snow, or mud.

Mud was still frozen today, but thawing quickly. Found 76 cocks and one hen on this lek, which I suspect is an all-time high. They're getting spookier as the strut winds down, and almost half flushed when I restarted the engine to drive a little closer.

Oooops.

The remaining birds were stubborn, however, refusing to quit so long as the hen hung around. So the heelers had their drag race, and I wandered down the road after them, taking photos of the spring's new blooms.

Fun, laying out there in the sage, watching the frost melt off the flowers as soon as they were touched by the sun (otherwise it was 36 degrees, according to the truck).

What started me on my flower search was the small blue flowers I spotted just outside my door. Unfortunately, some idiot had just run over the only blue-flowered plant around with his truck. But I found lots of moss phlox, (which I have been photographing for over a week now, they being among the first to bloom), some sedum,

plenty of salt-and-pepper (those blossoms are about 1-2 mm in diameter),

and one clump of the wife's favorites, violets (although these are yellow, like most our wild violets).

All the while, I'm laying/strolling in the sage, hearing nothing but the jingle of heeler collars, the strutting sage grouse not 200 meters away, several Vesper sparrows in the sage valley to the north, and a Western meadowlark.

Peaceful.

After the last grouse left, I meandered in front of the truck, finding this small plant

with even tinier blooms.

No idea what it is yet. And a leftover from the strutting grouse.

From the lek, we headed up onto the flats that spread out from the mountains themselves. Just a mile or two from snowline. And we found this.

Yes, I know it is a lousy photograph, vastly over-zoomed digitally. But it took quite a while waiting for that bird to get close enough even for that crappy shot. Trying to keep track of him as he darted in and out of the low sage and grass clumps at about a hundred meters.

That's a mountain plover (rhymes with "lover", not"clover"), folks. One of two I found making territorial breeding calls out there on that bare flat. And yes, they're a "threatened" species. As in, one step from "endangered." Probably only a few thousand left. And they love nesting in my country, so they seem a lot more common than they are.

As we drove on from the plovers, I spotted some more yellow flowers disappearing under our wheels. And stopped for photos, which gave the heelers yet another opportunity to drag race.

Found several dwarf mustards,

one of which was guarded by my first ant of the year.

Found several dwarf cinquefoils in the same spot,

as well as the same low blue flower species I got a shot of last year on this drive.

As we neared the highway, I stopped to give the heelers one last drag race to burn off energy, and tried hiding in the tall sage I had opted to park beside.

They wouldn't have found me so quickly if my first hiding spot hadn't already been occupied.