It was Saturday morning, and I had stopped to take a photo of the mists trying to boil over Lost Soldier Divide.

I hadn't even noticed they were in the photo until later, when I blew it up on the computer screen.

We were headed south, about to hit the new gas well access road so that we could barrel on down it and get to strutting ground number four for the morning.

I hadn't planned on starting my standardized counts quite yet, but we were late leaving the house yet again, and as we passed the turn to the first lek of the count, I abandoned hopes of getting to my planned survey of the lek 20 miles farther to the west, and opted to start the closer count route.

It was only minutes before sunrise, after all.

Found 20 cocks on the first lek, and 43 on the second. Just finished counting the third, normally the largest lek I've got, with 83 roosters strutting away.

And then I took the photo of the mists.

I heard them before I saw them, a gentle, rapid thundering off to the east.

Two feral horses, running at a gallop.

Directly at us.

As they neared the truck, maybe by 150 meters, they turned and circled us, counter-clockwise.

When they were due west of us, they paused, and looked us over. They're curious creatures, these desert horses. I and a former heeler were circled for several minutes, at much closer range, years back by a small band who could not understand what the biped was doing out here afoot with a tailless coyote.

These two only gave us a cursory glance and sniff. With the heeler sisters bouncing from pressing their noses against their window to pleading with me to let them out my door.

Curiosity satisfied, the studs wheeled to the right, and continued their run to the west.

The light grey showing the scars, some recent and still red, of his challenges for dominance of a band of mares. Apparently unsuccessful, since he is wandering the valley with his hapless friend.

And off we went, zooming down the new dirt superhighway the company put through this virtually untouched basin.