There aren't a lot of times when you like to use the word "limp" as an adjective.

But if describing the windsock when you're getting ready to fly, well, "limp" is a good thing.

We started our antelope count early in the morning, when shadows were still long.

And most of the people in the home town below, wife included, are just starting their day.

For the next two and a half hours, we were looking for these:

Pronghorn antelope, just minding their own business, being antelope.

Haven't tallied the numbers yet, but we saw hundreds. Maybe over a thousand. And four deer, five coyotes. And two bunny rabbits.

Yeah, we're flying that low.

You could tell by the pause in the voice from the pilot of an incoming airplane. Our transects took us pretty close to the airport, so when an incoming flight announced their approach, my pilot went on the air to advise of our location.

Standard procedure when you operate without air traffic controllers and radar.

My pilot advised we were "three miles to the southeast, at around seven thousand feet."

And then came the pause from the other pilot.

Because he knew the airport is around 6,800 feet.

Most planes don't normally fly 200 feet above the ground.

Aaanyway, a pleasant, but busy flight. Not quite half done with the ground we need to cover. Try to wrap it up tomorrow.

Not much opportunity for photos, seeing as how I had to be almost constantly watching for antelope. About the only chances for photos were when the river, one of our count boundaries, wandered inside our transect line...

or we passed over water, where one wouldn't normally expect to see pronghorn...

And I managed to sneak in a couple shots from the basin flats, where any antelope would have been easily seen.

Yeah, that countryside should be a lot greener than it is. But sad to say, unless the weather turns around, that is as green as it's going to get this spring.

You folks in New England wouldn't mind shipping some of your extra water out west, would ya'?