Every place I went today it was open season on antelope. Left and right, north and south, the land was open for the hunting of pronghorn.

Except, of course, for the stuff I went through after dark. That opens a half-hour before sunrise tomorrow.

But you'd never know it was antelope season by watching the antelope. Popping out all over the place as evening came, as calm as could be, out there feeding in the sage.

These two bucks that were challenging and chasing each other in the annual rituals of the rut certainly weren't concerned about the pickup truck with two red heelers parked nearby.

Nor was this third buck, who came charging over to drive the other two away from his small harem of does.

An excellent buck, by the way. Heavy bases with long, wide prongs that take off above his ears. The curl on the tip that creates the heart-shaped front profile of the horns, and adds so much to the total length.

Hunting season here has been open for five days, and yet here he is, living the life of a herd buck just a half-mile from the highway. Concerned only with pronghorn things.