The second day of this month was spent collecting the wing barrels I had set up for the sage grouse season. We were rushed, it was lots of boring highway miles, and I was surprised at how few pictures I took.

There was, of course, a shot of the first barrel, 45 miles away.

The heelers had to wait for the curious local to pass on by before they were allowed out to dragrace.

By the time we passed the red butte the second time...

we had six barrels in the truck. One in the cab, banging away in the back seat because the truck bed was full.

By sunset, we had seven barrels down. Two more left to go for the day.