It's been about three and a half weeks since Junior moved out. When last photographed,
he was with a buck and an older female, and I suspect he's been hanging out with them since,
learning how to be a proper pronghorn. I may or may not have seen him in the intervening weeks –
they all sort of look alike and without photographic evidence to analyze,
who knows if he was one of the passing pronghorns in the pasture?
We're always on the lookout for him, though, and Lucy is much better at spotting him than I.
From this distance, it's impossible to know for certain if this is Junior, but he didn't run away when I called his name.
In fact, he stood there for a long time while I babbled on about how good it was to see him again.
He was by himself, as usual, and hanging out in his favorite spot, but he was also much bigger.
Could he have grown that much in three weeks? I have no idea.
He stopped to pee before leaving, so I want to believe he was telling all the other male pronghorns
that this land was his land and we belong to him and they should move on.
But again, there's no way of knowing for sure.
Me: What do you think, George? Is that your friend Junior?
George: Hard to say. Take this muzzle off so he'll recognize me.
Me: Nice try.