It was Sunday morning and we'd all just finished breakfast. It had rained overnight and I knew George and Alan
would be feeling feisty, so I grabbed the camera and followed them into the pasture.
They were moving much faster than I, so I had to race to catch up, dodging cactus,
retrieving a shoe that got stuck in the mud, and generally trying to stay upright.
Once I reached them, they did not disappoint.
Alan: He cut my nose and it's bleeding. Make him stop right now!
I was about to go in and break things up but something caught both of their attention and a truce was called...
...for about five seconds.
I was loving the light and the clouds hovering over the mountains in the background.
The boys were cooperating fully as I angled here and there to capture their best expressions.
Me: Work it, boys, work it!
Me: Howl like you're coyotes.
I was having so much fun watching them and taking pictures, it was sad to see them take off.
It wasn't until I looked up from behind the lens as they ran away that I finally saw
what I had been missing for the last 10 minutes.
That whole time I had been photographing George and Alan,
a herd of pronghorns was sleeping in the pasture right next to us and I was too distracted to notice.
* slaps forehead *