The heelers are tired, stiff and sore.

And so am I. I suspect we'll start tomorrow with some nice office work, rather than another classification route.

We were about a half-hour from being done this morning when I heard the annoying, bubbly tweedle-dum tweedle-dum dee coming from the cell phone mounted on the dash.

Already knew who the caller was. He's a little early, but this'll work.

A graduate student, doing research in our part of the state. Been trying to meet with me to go over some maps for over a month now. I told him where I'd be this morning.

He's finished his antelope routes for the morning. Is there a place we can meet?

He's about fifty miles west of me. Nothing between us but sagebrush, dirt roads and two fences.

And one cabin.

So that's where we met. For a little over an hour.

Although more than half that time was just visitin'.

Then he headed back west, and the sisters and I turned southeast.

As we entered the northern extreme of the gas fields, I noticed the newest pipeline is covered with beeplant. The same stuff the hummingbirds were squabbling over yesterday evening.

Mind you, those birds were only a few miles from creek and trees, where you would expect to find hummingbirds. This pipeline is twenty-five miles from the nearest tree.

I slow down and look.

Sure enough, as I pass there's a tiny bird darting straight up out of the planted flowers. And another. And another.

I stop in one spot and grab the camera. There are at least five broad-tailed hummingbirds flitting about and fighting within 30 meters of the truck.

And this pipeline, covered with lavender blossoms, goes on for miles.

There are hummingbirds every piece of the pipeline I check.

Must be hundreds and hundreds of hummers.

They certainly weren't raised here. And I have no idea how they found here.

But somebody, somewhere, is missing...

An awful lot of hummingbirds.