"Will you look at that!"

We were standing at the back of the second of two truck/trailer combos from one of the farmland states. I'd just finished checking the fourth of four recently deceased antelope bucks, the cornhuskers complaining about our bitter cold wind.

I looked where he was pointing.

A pronghorn buck. Less than 70 meters away, walking down the highway fenceline.

Towards us.

I made a dash to the front of the line of vehicles, and dug out the camera. As I spin to aim, I see all the hunters brave enough to stand outside also reaching into their trucks to grab digital cameras.

These guys who probably spent, literally, thousands of dollars to come out here to kill four of these critters, are thrilled to death themselves when one comes walking by.

It was a young buck, not the same one the heelers and I rousted from his bed when we arrived this morning.

Pacing the fence, trying to find some gap that would allow him to cross the highway and challenge the older buck guarding a harem of does to the east. Like most males, he is so intent on watching the females, he is right next to us before he notices where he has put himself.

He spins and backtracks, but soon realizes he is moving away from the does. And right now, that is the last thing he wants to do.

Again, as with most mammal males, hormones overwhelm common sense, and he makes a mad dash down the fence past us, so he can safely cross down the road.

The show over, and my data taken, the out-of-staters jump back into their heated trucks and begin the long, downwind drive home.