Somewhen between ten o'clock and noon, the heelers woke me from my nap.

Someone at the door.

UPS. With the package I've been waiting for. The radio receiver.

We scavenged two receivers to use to follow the ten elk with radio collars. The best, which scans for all ten at one time, went to the pilot for his weekly surveys. The other needed new batteries, and other minor repair work.

So I've been waiting.

This afternoon, we waited no longer. Got some bureaucratic paperwork into the mail just after four, and then the heeler sisters and I were off to the country. Complete with receiver, two antennas, headphones, and the last known locations of our ten cow elk.

Most of the ten have moved far to the south, and according to the pilot are pushing snowline. But there's two or three who haven't moved as far that we might be able to pick up signal on.

In either case, I haven't been into this part of the Divide since last fall. Eager to see new country. Unfortunately, others had been more eager, and the now dry road is heavily rutted from their muddy travels. Got thrown, literally, into the ditch twice by the deep, wobbly ruts.

Folks have been claiming our snowpack is near or above the 30-year average. Good news for us townsfolk, but kinda hard to believe when you go out in the desert and kick up dust in early March where you shouldn't even be able to drive until mid-April.

Our desert is certainly still dry, but it looks like they're right about our snowpack in the mountains. Just a look at the snowbanks clinging to the Continental Divide (the entire Divide here, not just half of it), and you know we have a lot of water stored up.

The reservoirs and playas down below are all full, too. Haven't seen that for many a year. For the past few years, this reservoirs was a dry mud flat, not habitat for migrating buffleheads.

We had to get up onto Jim's pass before we got a signal. Number 644. Not from where she's been for the past few weeks, but hey, if we knew their habits so well, we wouldn't need to put radio collars on 'em. A few more miles down the road, I take another reading on her signal. And then again, even farther down into the Pacific watershed. (The heeler sisters having a drag race and snoop at each stop.)

If I find the time to plot it all, I should be able to get a better location (not to mention the pilot will fly this week), but for now, number 644 is somewhere in here:

Also picked up weak signals from numbers 564 and 622, but they may have been echoes off the mountainside. Too much snow to get on top and get good locations.

Didn't turn back until our dry, rutted road turned into a wet, rutted road. Right after we spooked the coyote. Took a break in a handy snowbank, and then headed for home.

Only elk we actually saw was this spike, feeding in one of the newer burns.

And right at dusk, on one of those reservoirs that has been dust, we found four shorebirds.

Haven't looked 'em up to see what they were yet (Peachfront, I'll bet you know), but they were definitely tired and sleepy.

Getting a night's rest before they tackle the next obstacle in their migration north.