As I said in the previous entry, things just keep popping up. Before I could get that entry posted, dispatch called to report four antelope on the Interstate. So off I went, along with the masked heeler.

Turns out there were actually eight antelope inside the right-of-way fence, peacefully feeding on the shrubs that have been buried under snow and unbrowsed all winter. With experience, I've found it is usually best to leave stray animals on the highways alone, especially the interstate. Last time I tried chasing an antelope off the Interstate was in the 1983-84 winter. Rather than going where I wanted him to go, namely onto the snowdrift he used to get across the fence in the first place, he squirted across all four lanes of traffic to run along the fence on the other side. In the process causing a family in their station wagon to slam on the brakes and very nearly get creamed by a semi. No antelope is worth killing someone over, so I learned my lesson. If they got themselves on, they usually know the way off.

But now we've got eight desert goats on the highway. Don't know how they got inside that damned woven-wire fence, but there was a small gap of five-wire fence at a creek crossing about a half mile up the highway. So we crept along on the shoulder of the road, emergency lights flashing, slowly pushing the antelope towards the creek. Dozens of semis, pickups and minivans passed us as we slowly worked our way west. The lead doe was a sweetheart, leading the whole mob right down the fence towards the gap. No thought at all about crossing the highway.

Then she spotted a small piece of trash hooked on a bush, flapping in the wind. That did it. An immediate about face, and off they went, barreling past us down the fence the wrong way. At least they stayed off the asphalt. So we pull a quick u-turn across the median (always fun, just like the bandits and patrolmen on COPS, but don't try this at home, kiddies: "authorized vehicles only!"). We get ahead, cross the median again, and again push them up the fence line towards the gap. But a little faster and harder this time. They hated the sound of tires on the wake-up bars on the shoulder of the road.

When we reached the trash again (one of thousands of pieces left after the snow melted), I pushed a little harder and it worked. That lead doe hopped over it like it was a rattlesnake, and everybody else followed. Great! Then she suddenly realized what she had done, turned around to stare at the trash, and then jumped over it again and headed the wrong way. The bitch! Naturally they all followed. I considered getting out to pick up the trash and try again, but by now they were spooked. If they saw a human on foot, we'd have antelope hopping all over the highway like popcorn. Somebody would probably die, and it might not be an antelope.

At this point it occurred to me that if I got out the rifle and put her down, I might at least be able to save seven antelope. I am more hesitant about killing things than probably most folks I know, but sometimes that kind of triage is necessary. But certainly not today, not for trespassing on a highway. Sometimes the first lessons are the best. We went home and left them to their lunch of shrubs.

Some of you are probably thinking me a monster for even considering killing the lead doe. But if someone rolls their minivan and wipes out half their family trying to dodge one of these antelope, we'll know I made the wrong choice.

btw, while herding antelope we were buzzed by a ferruginous hawk. A ferrug! Spring is here!