On one of their runs last Thursday, the heeler sisters discovered a road grader. At least eight miles from anywhere (as a crow flies).

Have no idea how it got here, or why.

If this is your grader, and you want it back, they found it here. Just 50 meters from the Continental Divide.

Sorry, but there is no easy way out of that spot. Dropping off the Divide to the west might be your best bet, if you can get it through the gate at the bottom of the hill.

And if you wouldn't mind, you could always drop the blade as you go down, and fix that horrible spot that gives me trouble every strutting season.

The day started cool and quiet, full of mist.

'Course about 10 miles down the road I discovered the reason for the quiet. Radio was off. Had turned it off during a phone conversation the day before, and never turned it back on. And apparently didn't miss it.

Within seconds of turning it back on my airwaves were filled with the sounds of wardens, pilots and dispatchers.

The quiet had actually been kind of nice. Just as the voices were reassuring.

One of the voices was a brand inspector, logging on for the day.

Dispatcher commented that she heard his part of the state got rain yesterday.

"Yep." But not enough to do much good.

And a tornado?

Yeah, he saw that, too.

We were circling around and through the north end of the Haystacks, and came across the same fluorescent flagging and stakes that we had found on the south end.

Marking seismograph lines. More exploration for oil & gas. I've seen the maps for this project. These lines are huge, extending for twenties of miles, northeast and southeast in a wide grid.

I wish them the worst of luck.

Stopped and gave the heeler sisters a running break where one of the lines crossed our road.

Masked heeler went over and crapped right next to a stake with flagging.

My sentiments, exactly.

Can you imagine that? Walking miles and miles of perfectly straight lines out here in the middle of the sage and greasewood, dodging cacti and rattlesnakes.

Only to step into a pile of dog doo?

A few folks have been telling me they've been seeing a lot of sage grouse this summer. Despite the drought.

Well, I've come across places with a few grouse. Wet places, mostly. Where there's water, there tends to be concentrations of everything. But an awful lot of the country is void of critters, including grouse. But I did come across this hen with her chick (Yes, the chicks are as big as momma by now. The male chicks may even be bigger. That's Mom in the lead here.)

Stopped in at the Buffalo Pits at the end of the route. All the holes and tinajas were bone dry, as expected. A lone buck antelope was catching the breeze and watching the world go by from atop the rocks.

The seismograph flagging was here, too.

As soon as I got back on the asphalt, got held up at a construction stop. They're rebuilding and widening this county road, and are almost done. Sealing and chipping now, and setting up the brand new right-of-way fences.

Truck in front of me had a young couple, and their child, maybe two years old. And two golden retrievers in the back, which got into a bark fit with the sisters. One retriever even bailed from their truck to come attack ours.

As the embarrassed young woman came out to try to retrieve her retriever, I noticed something unusual about their pickup.

It was leaking.

Leaking sand.

Leaving little white sand piles on the brand new pavement.

Aha! I know exactly what they've been up to. About four miles beyond this current phase of the county road reconstruction, one of the white sand dunes is trying to bury the road.

Has been, for as long as I've been here. County uses the spot as a source of sand for spreading on roads in the winter. And for construction projects. Just pull over to the shoulder of the road and scoop up all you need.

Lot of locals do the same, with the county's blessing. I hear it's not the best sand for concrete, though. Too much organic debris mixed in. Not that you would notice to look at it. Just looks a perfect whitish-dun. Only when you submerge it do all the fragmented plant parts and shreds of cow, antelope, deer and rabbit poop float up.

But it's perfect sand for sandboxes (preferably washed). Wife insisted I wash it when I collected a truckful for the eldest son's sandbox.

Which I'm sure is where this truck bed of sand in front of me was going.