I'm still angry. Which means I probably shouldn't be posting this.

But hey, there's a delete button around here somewhere, right?

The pilot's wife called me late last week. "Could they change my Tuesday flight from eight o'clock to twelve-thirty?"

Ohhh, geez. That means fasting until at least two o'clock in the afternoon. No food, no coffee. Not even water. 'Cause if there's anything at all down there, it's gonna be up and out my throat sometime during the flight.

But yeah, we can do that.

Again. Because this is like the seventh or eighth time in the past year we've rescheduled or delayed one of my flights so they can take an additional charter. In this case it was someone else in our outfit who wanted to look for where pronghorn are spending the winter. And you pretty much need to do that first thing in the morning. With a higher sun around midday, antelope just about disappear into the snow and sage.

Unlike the big, brown elk I'm looking for.

So, we reschedule for twelve-thirty. And with all the deep, unblown snow, I'm hoping we can also squeeze in a count of my elk to the north. A possibility I suggested to the pilot two weeks ago. Would really be handy to know how many we've got out there before we set nonresident license quotas in two weeks.

At twelve twenty-five, I suspect it might be best to call to see if the pronghorn flight is done.

Well, no. They canceled.

So the pilot took another one of our wardens up, on this perfectly clear, perfectly calm morning, to look for elk in his district. And they're late getting back.

Finally, about a quarter after one, we get up in the air. "We have to get this done quick," the pilot warns. He's got a dental appointment at two-twenty.

We hadn't gotten three miles from the airport, the plane banging and bumping right and left, and up and down, when he "wonders where all the wind came from."

It's just the wind we get every afternoon in the winter.

Another reason I schedule my flights first thing in the morning.

So you know what the flight was like. Quick, hard turns over the top of elk signals. Before I could write the data down for one elk, he was turning to chase the next.

Great for the stomach. And twice he claimed we were over an elk, when there was absolutely nothing below but white. The collared elk being actually found maybe a mile or two further on.

Yeah, he was in a hurry. Cutting corners, so to speak.

As we finished the tenth and last elk, he announces "I'm scared to tell you how quickly we got that done."

You don't have to.

My stomach knows.

But he made his dental appointment, which I understand was important.

But another warden, who had not even scheduled any flights today, has good numbers to base his license quotas on. And had perfect snow cover, perfect sunlight, and perfect air to fly in.

My perfect morning.

And I, who has been rearranging schedules and fasting half-days in order to be the nice guy? The one who actually scheduled a flight this morning?

Did I get a call asking me if I wanted my eight o'clock time slot back when the antelope guy canceled? Asking if I want to count my northern elk on this perfect morning?

No.

I got screwed.