What's everybody looking at?

 

Pronghorns in the pasture

 Pronghorn #1: There she is again.

Pronghorn #2: She doesn't give up, does she?

 Me: Don't run off! Please?

 Pronghorn #1: The big buck calls and we must obey.

I, personally, would like to hang out with you, but whatever he says goes.

 Big Buck: You may have one picture of me before we leave.

Big Buck: That's two, and I'm sure it's not very flattering. 

Don't you dare post it on that damned blog.

A peaceful morning...as long as you tune out the chickens and Alan's drum solo

Mama and Junior 2.0

 I peeked out my office door and saw Lucy fixated on something.

 It was Mama 2.0. We met her a few weeks ago, along with her baby, Junior 2.0.

(If all of that makes no sense, click on the "pronghorns" label below to catch up on
last year's adventures with the first Mama and Junior.)

 Anyway, this Mama is not injured; she just seems to like hanging out here.

 She's a little shy and wary of me, as she should be,

 but she trusts the herd unequivocally. On three occasions last week, I was walking through

the pasture, only to come upon Junior napping in the tall grass –– with Mama nowhere in sight!

Hank, however, was just a few yards away. I'll swear that Mama is letting Hank babysit 

while she wanders around grazing and doing whatever else wayward unwed teenage pronghorns do
when they should be minding their children.

Judging by the little nubs that will eventually support her horns, 

I'm guessing that Mama is very young. She may not know yet that

she shouldn't be leaving her baby with a tall, handsome stranger.

 Me: Yes, I'm talking about you. Now go and find him before a coyote does.

Saturday encore ~ Distracted

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. 

I was confident I'd have at least enough blog fodder for Monday.

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 *

Sunday leftovers

Before we begin with the week's leftovers, a great big thanks to all of you 

for your comments and appreciation of the videos I posted on Thursday and Friday. 

Lesson learned: next time I'm at a loss for blog fodder, just take the video camera out to the barn 

for a few minutes of "this is what goes on here."

 A gang of four has been in residence all week – these three
(two young males and a young female, judging by their horns)...

...under the close supervision of this big buck. 

Whatever he says goes, and when he says, "Run!"...

 ...they say, "How fast?"

 Then I yell out, "Junior!" And whichever one stops is Junior for the day.

I have no idea if any of them really is Junior, but I like to think whomever stops

and makes meaningful eye contact recognizes my voice and remembers me fondly.

 

When last we saw Mrs. Hughes, she was sitting atop a hidden stash of 26 eggs.

The little bugger hasn't laid a single egg since ... that I can find. You don't want to know

how many treasure hunts I've conducted in the front yard that have turned up empty.

 Lady Mary and Edith have resumed their egg-laying in one of the regular nesting boxes...

 ...when they're not busy doing other things.

The biggest event of the week ... ok, maybe the fall ... happened Friday. I hauled Hank and Lucy to the vet 

for their annual checkups. No matter how many times I make the trip, I still agonize over it 

as if the world is going to end, and it never gets any easier. But as usual, it was completely uneventful,
the x-rays of Hank's knee looked no worse than last year, and they both got gold stars for being
such cooperative patients. The bad news is that I have to do the trip all over again in a couple of weeks,
this time with George and Alan. The fun and excitement just never ends.

Is it or isn't it?

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.

Bed check

It's getting dark and time to check on the herd one last time. 

Everyone is present and accounted for.

***

The Daily Pronghorn, Tuesday, July 29, 8 p.m.

Junior had visitors...

...a great big buck...

...and a surrogate mom. 

When last seen, Junior was showing her around.