Here we have the intrepid, but unsuccessful, sheep hunters gathered around their trucks for a late lunch.

And here, in the very next image recorded on the camera, taken from the same spot, we have the object of their efforts:

Ewe #312. Watching smugly from her perch on top of her chosen rocky ridge. Which is, unfortunately, at least seven miles from the nearest other known bighorn sheep.

And worse, only seven or so miles from the nearest known domestic sheep. An almost guaranteed source for often lethal Pasteurella, contact with which will guarantee this ewe either a) a one-way ticket to a research or zoo facility where she will never again be allowed contact with any other bighorn sheep or b) a lead injection and a one-way ticket to the necropsy floor.

So, it is in her best interest that she allow us to drug her, load her up, and haul her back where the rest of the bighorn live.

Unfortunately, we have no way of telling her that.

Three times they got within 40 yards of her with the tranquilizer rifle, and three times she bounded easily away before they could get close enough for a shot.

The after lunch pursuit was even more lopsided on the side of the ewe.

Next week, we try again.

Still, it was a beautiful, pleasant, remote place to spend a day.