Once again the predicted spring snowstorm failed to materialize. Though you could see it in the low clouds trying to hide the moon.

Once again, the heelers decided they would rather sleep in a warm bed with the wife than go out into the dark and cold with me. And once again, the local diner was already busy by the time I rolled through town.

I was 17 miles north, crossing the Louisiana line, before the dawn lightened enough to see the countryside around me.

And yet, I was probably ten to fifteen minutes late. Which is why I didn't stop to take any pictures of the sliver of sunrise peeking below the overcast sky.

No, I just zoomed the lens, pointed it out the passenger window, and kept on driving. Yielding a dozen or more odd but worthless images of what was a pretty good sunrise.

Some had a kinda neat effect.

But the one I regret not snagging the most was this one:

The reddening sunrise and mountain reflected in an alkali lake covered with just a few inches of reflecting snowmelt. It was cool, it was pretty.

But I was late.

The only decent sunrise shots came when I turned off the highway to enter into the desert and dunes, where I took only a few moments to get this...

Then it was back to work, off to try again to run my dunes route of six sage grouse leks.

It went well. The birds were happily courting away on the first lek, with 35 cocks and a pod of hens hanging around the center.

I even spotted a typically brief copulation, followed by the equally typical "ewww-ick!" maneuver.

The second lek, which had largely been flushed by a hawk on Thursday's attempt at this route, was full of grouse. Seventy-seven cocks and over 30 hens.

Here the hens seem to scatter about amongst the males, checking out the action in every part of the meadow, rather than moving en masse to some central male.

Lek three was empty, as it has been for over a decade. I had to flush a small herd of 32 deer off the two-track as I flew over the dunes to the next lek. That was the third large herd of deer I've seen this spring far out into the desert, with each herd walking steadily on their migration back towards the higher hills.

I didn't think this winter was tough enough to push them all this low, but perhaps last winter taught them not to stay too high too late.

The fourth lek had only a handful of males on it. But numbers have been steadily declining at that site, so I don't know if I missed them, or if three was all there was.

Lek five had 20 male grouse strutting on both sites

with a few hens wandering up past me as I counted their neighbors.

Not having heelers actually saved me a few minutes getting to the sixth and final lek, since I didn't have to stand and wait for them to finish their potty break at the first, and only, gate on this route. Just zip on through to count grouse.

Sixty-eight cocks and a couple tardy hens. And then I was done. All six leks checked, no hawks or eagles to mess things up, no rain or snow to discourage the grouse.

A good morning.

Upon reaching the highway, on a whim I turned north instead of south, and checked one last strutting ground, seven miles away. It was almost two hours after sunrise, and there really shouldn't have been any grouse left strutting.

But there were. Two die-hard males. Either they were desperately hoping for one last hen, or neither was willing to let the other be the last male standing.

And then, at precisely 1 hour and 59 minutes after sunrise...

They shut it off. Pecking at breakfasts of sagebrush leaves as they walked off together.

And to home I went.