Another morning of checking sage grouse leks. It's getting harder and harder to get up and going so dark and early.

Just ask the heelers.

Today, we probably should have been on the road at least ten minutes earlier than we were.

Eight minutes after hitting the asphalt, I heard one of my wardens call in to dispatch, starting his day.

Also checking leks, no doubt. Within the next ten minutes, two others also logged in, from somewhere in the state.

When you're out checking strutting grounds, you always feel so alone, yet in reality, there are literally hundreds of other wildlifers out there across the American West, doing the exact same thing.

Well, maybe not on Easter morning. Bet there's not many of us out there on that Sunday.

Ten or fifteen minutes after the flurry of wardens checking in, another came on the air, and went 10-8. Less than twenty minutes before sunrise. Anonymously over the airwaves, in an exagerated western drawl, a voice commented "Those leks had better be awfully darn close."

"They are," responded the late-sleeping warden. "In fact, I'm in them already."

And then all was quiet again.