Three calls. Less than fifteen minutes apart.

The first was one of my wardens, with good news.

Our mountain is on fire.

Actually, there's four new forest fires, all apparently started by lightning during the Fourth's wonderful natural pyrotechnics.

Two on the mountain to the west. Which could be good or bad, depending on where they're burning. And one fire just across the river to the east of us. Burning in a couple rocky canyons where it looks like it will be relatively harmless.

And one burning on one of our mountain ranges. A range that we have been trying to get prescribed fires on for real close to 20 years.

Last year there was a small lightning fire in the middle of dense lodgepole forest, the stuff we would just love to see burned open.

And they put it out.

But not this year. With the federal documents we finally got updated, and the general shortage of fire crews because there are fires burning where there are real people concerns, they are going to let this one burn. So long as it keeps itself inside the wilderness, I presume.

Cool.

Just too bad the lightning didn't start a blaze on the mountains where we really need a fire. Where the bighorn sheep could really use some open space on the mountainsides.

The second call was bad news. A man reporting a flicker had slammed into their house window, and wasn't doing well.

Okay. Give me 10-15 minutes to get there.

Third call was less than two minutes later.

There's no urgency. The bird died.

Oookay. No real surprise. Birds that fly into windows seem to do either of two things. They stun themselves, and are just fine after a few minutes. Orrrr, they break something internally, and don't suffer long.

But the heelers are already excited, and eager to go. So we head into town, and pick up the deceased male flicker.

And since we're already out...

Might as well at least look at the fire north of us.

Not much to see.

Just a narrow plume of light colored smoke rising to form a bank of smoke over the mountains.

But, without driving a full hour to see the north side, it looks promising. Might be in the dogtooth lodgepole pine we would like so much to poke some holes in. Probably not anyplace that would help bighorn sheep much, but the elk will probably like that spot for the next twenty years or so. And we might actually get a little aspen back on the mountain.

On the way back into town, I remembered the flowers I spotted on Monday. And made a quick stop with the camera.

Prairie penstemons.

Just a few days ago they looked thick, bright and swollen with blossoms. But now, after just a few days of summer heat, their pink has faded, and some blossoms withered.

Summer is here.

Me, I could have used another week or two of spring.