The full moon was still high in the southwest when the heeler sisters and I hit the highway this morning. A quarter before five o'clock, all of 36 degrees.

And then it started hiding behind the clouds.

Popping in and out, occasionally launching a broad, light blue moonbeam straight up into the sky. Casting intermittent shadows over traffic in the other lanes of the interstate.

It wasn't until we were off the interstate and almost ten miles into the gas fields that the moon finally deigned to come below the clouds.

And another six to eight miles before it finally set.

After watching the west horizon for so long, I was startled to see bright clouds already glowing in the east. And slammed on the brakes at the crest of the dropoff into Horseshoe Basin, flushing an owl out of the sage and propelling the little maskless heeler into the dash (again), just to get the shot.

This morning we were once again trying to locate a new strutting ground, where others have reported suspicious flocks of grouse and fresh grouse sign in the gas field. In a field where the companies are currently proposing to double their number of wells.

Kinda important to find the lek before someone unwittingly puts a drilling rig on top of it.

And we failed again. But at least this morning I was there at a decent time.

And did not get lost.

We looped through the desert again, scouting out a ridgeline two-track that I had never driven before, to get home. And found this herd of feral horses playing King of the Hill.

I don't know why.