Really don't know what to write here today. It was a long day. After a quick check of emails, the heeler sisters and I headed out to collect wings from my 17 wing barrels. A grand tour of my "area of responsibility" that put over 380 miles on the rig. And at least a third of those were dirt miles.

Left a little after nine-thirty, got home minutes before nine o'clock. Heelers were worn out.

Doesn't usually take almost 12 hours for this route, but had a few visits along the way.

Stopped in at our outfit's antelope unit, to check out the Signature Wall:

The little maskless heeler was horribly nervous in the sheering pen, more so than normal. Had to call her back three or four times.

The last time she didn't come back. So her sister and I headed on out to the truck, harassing a cottontail along the way.

Only to find no little heeler.

And she's not wearing her orange yet.

Yelled and whistled and yelled. No heeler. With an interstate to the north, railroad to the south, and miles and miles of nothin' east and west.

Yes, I was getting worried.

Then she popped up out of nowhere, only to get hustled into the rig and dressed in her orange.

Our first human visit of the day was in the gas patch. They've done a wonderful job of realigning the county road north of the highway, and the grader was reworking the section by my barrel.

Fortunately he said the barrel was far enough off not to be a problem. And we visited about deer seasons (they open tomorrow) until the water truck came along, wetting down the right side of the road so it could be bladed (can't blade dry roads, else they just turn into dust).

To avoid driving in the new mud, the grader operator suggested I just drive on the wrong side of the road.

"Nobody cares around here."

And he's right.

Second visit was about mid-way across the desert. An antelope hunter quite surprised to see someone out that far on a Monday. Been hunting elk near Jackson, and heading home to University Town to take his boy out on his elk hunt tomorrow, and just swinging through the desert to see if he could fill his antelope license.

Elk hunting in the high country was poor. With all the moonlight at night, they're staying in the timber most of the day.

Third visit was with a grouse hunter breaking camp with two birds. I had just picked up the wings from the barrel on his route, and decided not to collect his as well, since they missed the recorded collection time.

Two miles later I decided that was stupid. We know his birds were taken on opening weekend, so they ought to be used for hatching date and nesting success estimates (can't use the later collections for this, since you don't usually know the actual harvest date).

So back I went, backtracking four miles to collect two more wings just minutes after he dropped them in.

Yes, I can be anal sometimes. Would be simpler if I were just anal to begin with, rather than thinking about for a minute or two.

Fourth visit was a retired couple, just setting up their elk camp in Crooks Gap. Pleasant folks, looking forward to two weeks in the mountains, if need be. He was unloading the 4-wheeler when I pulled up. She was filling a trash bag with someone else's trash and broken glass from their selected site.

Of course he wanted to know if his plan for tomorrow morning was a good one. I have an idea where the elk on his mountain are, since the warden has been chasing them off hay meadows for weeks, so I suggested a slight change. Need to start looking low this year. Where the water and green feed has been.

Fifth visit was the longest. Rim just happened to come out their ranch road the same time I was collecting wings from my barrel. Got caught up on the latest family gossip. And, as usual, learned several things about goings-on in my country that I didn't know yet.

Always learn something new from Rim.

If all goes according to plan, the end of an era should arrive on 7 October.

That's the date the last of their sheep are scheduled to be shipped out. The last of the sheep from the last of the sheep ranches. From country that was the world capitol of domestic sheep production for decades, if not a whole century.

Not sure if I'm sorry or not.

Another disadvantage of the new truck, besides the smaller bed which necessitated many more miles and trips to get wing barrels put up, is the smaller gas tank.

Watched the needle go down all the way across the desert. And did lots of mental calculations, rechecking at each known landmark.

With older rigs, I could make the complete route on one tank, even with wet weather detours that increased the trip over 400 miles. But every calculation I made said I was going to be short. By about two gallon.

Leaving me stranded somewhere near Coal Creek.

No thanks.

And no place at all to gas up en route. Not unless I want to use my own money, and pay 20 cents a gallon above market.

So back to town we went. Also picked up burgers for me and cheeseburgers for the heelers, but they made it clear what they really wanted was to go home.

We're so close!

The detour for fuel also allowed us to spy this young fellow

bedded down with his mom.

In town.

Just 30-40 meters from the intersection by the highway shop, McD's and Wendy's.

Hope he's streetwise.

Then it was back north, past Independence Rock, for a huge loop for the last three barrels.

Rain and drizzle most the way, which is good. Need the moisture. Were treated to just the briefest glimpse of the setting sun, behind the Granite Mountains.

Last two barrels were checked by flashlight. And the little maskless heeler went and disappeared again at one.

Another slight panic.

Man, I wish she didn't insist on so much privacy when she needs to leave a pile. She was clear out past the headlights.

Needless to say, the heelers were thrilled to finally get home.

And tomorrow (actually today, already) is the big one. The opening of all the deer seasons south of town. Like having all the antelope seasons on one day. Need to get to sleep, and get ready for a long day of check station.

(Oh yes, gassed up again when we were done. If I'd tried to make the whole route on one tank, we'd have been three gallons short. Long walk.)