That was the question the wife asked last night, as she came home from the film club's showing of The Last King of Scotland

No, I didn't go. I know all I need to know about the reign of Idi Amin. I need to see a movie about it like I need to see a movie about Hitler or Pol Pot. So she went with eldest son and his girlfriend.

Me, I would rather see fresh episodes of Crossing Jordan or Lost.

And did both.

But I was quite surprised when the news came on afterwards and started their broadcast with radar images of the winter storm front blasting through our state.

Storm front?

What storm front?

But there it was, a huge blue-alert winter storm mass blowing across our town.

I let the heelers out for their after dinner constitutional just two and a half hours ago, and it was warm, in the sixties. Shirt sleeve weather.

The wife came home after a two-hour movie and reported it was major winter weather outside again. Blowing snow, icy roads, one to two reflector post visibility on the interstate.

And bitter, freezing cold.

So this morning was just the same. Fresh snow, bitter cold, and strong, strong winds.

And I had the lek route in the dunes to run.

I suspected I was wasting my time, and precious sleep, but went out just the same.

Heelers were smarter, and stayed home in the warm bed.

First lek had birds, but numbers were just over half last week's tally. And sometime in the three minutes between my first count and my second...

They all left.

That does not bode well.

Lek two had two cocks on it. Just two.

No point in finishing the route. The numbers wouldn't mean anything about grouse populations, just their dislike of cold wind.

So, I tear south through the dunes to check a couple other leks, a little more sheltered by the Continental Divide. And find birds on the second, but less than half what I expected.

At least the morning wasn't a complete waste. With naught else to do, I sat there and waited for the birds to finish their business before heading home.

Kinda funny watching cocks struttnig in strong wind, trying to hold their wings stiff at their sides only to have a gust of air throw their wing, and them, off to the side.

The two hens hanging around stayed close to the sage, and were apparently unimpressed with the oddly choreographed displays presented to them. They left, as near as I could tell, unbred.

And we had the shortest of sunrises, somewhere after the second lek of the route. The sun's rays peeking through the narrow gap between horizon and overcast winter clouds to touch the hills, covered with a fresh blanket of snow, with a brief dash of pink.