Most people who take the time to visit while getting their game and licenses checked at this check station make comment about how boring it must be. And sometimes, yes, it is. But even if you stay in one point all day, there are always different views to see.

Like this immature golden eagle that circled over us Sunday morning, after the clouds and rain went away.

You can tell it's an immature bird by the white patches on each wing, and at the base of the tail.

And that wasn't the only raptor that we saw. There were several falcons, like this six-year old gyr-peregrine cross.

You can tell he's six years old, because his owner says he is.

Yes, the falconers were back again, enjoying their early season on sage grouse. Knew it before they came through my station, even before the game warden called to mention he'd checked them. You see, I had these hunters come through who couldn't understand what all the people with the SUVs were doing out in the sage with their dogs, but no guns.

Uhh-hunh. Falconers. Most folks don't know they also have to train bird dogs, to run through the sage and flush the prey up into the air. Falcons don't like to hunt things on the ground. Guess it kinda hurts to hit it at 160+ mph.

The falconers reported seeing more grouse than in recent years, which agrees with what we've been seeing. But in the two days they came through my station, their birds had been unsuccessful at hitting and killing any grouse.

Falconers are an interesting lot. So kind and loving to their birds, and yet usually their bird dogs are shoved into a cramped, windowless compartment under the bird's perch. And most drive expensive SUVs, which I guess one would expect in a hobby where the falcon can easily cost $30,000.

One outfit also had a trailer this year. To haul the hydrogen balloon they use to lift bait birds (otherwise known as pigeons) up high enough for the falcon to attack.

So the wife and I were quite surprised to find the six-year old falcon from Pennsylvania (yeah, they drive that far to hunt their birds) in this:

An ancient Jeep Wagoneer, complete with dragging tailpipe.

But the bird was housed and taken care of as well as any other I'd seen. And his birddog, at least, had part of the backseat and fresh air any time she wanted to lift her head.

Yeah, we liked him right off.

And yeah, the wife came out to visit, deliver the Sunday paper and hot coffee, and to retrieve the heelers from their boredom. She arrived as I was scoping out two folks having lunch down the road.

First spotted them about two miles down the mine road, on the Continental Divide trail. Thought it odd the shorter one was walking on the paved road, and the other a good twenty meters away on a parallel course in the sage and greasewood. Then a half-mile away, in plain sight but far enough away to have privacy (except from people with 22X spotting scopes mounted on their windows), they stopped for lunch.

And for the shorter person to strip off her pants.

At least I hoped it was a "her".

But no, it was no afternoon delight. Just a hiker getting rid of long pantlegs after the day started to get warm. But being alone on an empty highway with nothing else to see or do, it got my heart-rate up.

And I was really hoping the smaller person would turn out to be female. Else I'd feel just a little strange.

She was.

Perhaps they didn't speak English, or perhaps they don't like hunters, but they passed by with smiles but not a word to the wife and I as we visited with hunters.

Now me, I tend to ignore traffic on the nearby highway, unless it honks, but the wife watched it quite a bit, spotting this antique far enough down the road for me to get a shot.

Probably checked less than ten antelope that day. Less than one an hour. But early in the morning, I got to check one of these:

Which got a great deal of attention from the heelers, at a totally new smell.

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