The call came at 11:26.

And, less than an hour later, I find myself here.

Thirty-six miles from home. And somewhere, out there in that view, at least 15 miles still further out...

Is a truck.

A truck with another biologist.

A truck with a habitat biologist.

A truck with a habitat biologist that is stuck in the snow.

The truck... not the biologist.

I didn't recognize her voice at first. But then she apologetically explained that she'd "been digging for 40 minutes" and still hadn't gotten out. So she figured it was time to call.

Problem was, she's new. So when she tells me she's just north of "the gate", that doesn't help an awful lot. There's lots of gates out there. Telling me "the north gate" narrows it down some, but there's several gates in the north fence of the place she was trying to go.

But since our trip out there in November was her first to the place, and she's been snowed out ever since, I assume she doesn't know about the other gates, and is on the same road we used that day.

It's over fifty miles. It'll take me about an hour to get out there, I warn her.

So, when I reach the turnoff onto that north road, I am happy to see fresh vehicle tracks in the snow.

A mile or so off the pavement, and I stop to take care of the business the heeler sisters have been whining about all fifty miles...

A dragrace.

Yes, they had other business to take care of, too...

But racing first.

Another mile or so down the road, and I am happy to see...

A stuck truck.

My compadre is outside, waiting for us, one shoulder covered in mud. There's not one, but two pairs of drenched gloves drying in the sun on the tailgate. I can see her rig is already halfway dug out.

But she quickly explains... she's got no shovel.

Yeah. No shovel. Whoever left her this rig last fall when they transferred out and she transferred in, took the truck's shovel.

Or else they somehow managed to work in this country without one. Which means they probably didn't work much in this country. So today, she got to discover her truck is spadeless.

"You've got three shovels!" she exclaimed when she peeked into my rig.

First case of spade envy I've ever seen. Well, no, thinking about it, it's the second.

Well, no, I explain. There's actually just two. The third one doesn't have a handle. That's for blocking a tire when you have to change a flat.

But anyway, she managed to half-way scoop out the snow underneath her truck by hand! Hence the soaking wet gloves.

Impressive.

Although, she was a little chagrined when I suggested I might have popped off a hubcap to use as a scoop...

As we used my two shovels to dig out the worst of the snow suspending her wheels in the air, she commented on how useful a shovel is.

Yeah. Right now it ranks up there with the great inventions of civilization, like "fire" and "wheel", huh?

But like any outdoors person who is stuck and requesting a tug, she already had her chain hooked up and strung out my direction. After clearing just a little snow, all I have to do is turn around, back up, hook up, and go.

Twelve minutes after my arrival, she's out.

And I forgot to take a picture.

I'm sure she's grateful for that.