A Morning With Speedgoats

I drove back and forth across the beautiful state of Wyoming last week to attend the wedding of one of my best friends.  Between Rawlins and Laramie I saw hundreds and hundreds of pronghorn.  The sight of them always thrills me.  Eventually I exited the interstate, took a lesser road out into bigger country, and rolled down a two track deeper into the sage.  I hopped out of the car, grabbed my camera and hiked out into space.  Eventually I dropped down on all four and slithered in my skinny jeans and cowboy boots to within 50 yards of this pronghorn group. I simply wanted to watch them and so I did for the better part of an hour.  The wind was blowing in 40mph gusts.  The sun was shining.  I was warm if I stayed down low enough in the sage, like a coyote.

They knew I was there, pronghorn can see for miles, they allowed me in their space.  They huffed at me a bit and watched me for a while — they’re curious, too — before they settled back into their eating, sunbathing and flirting.  Something that has always charmed me about this species is the way bucks watch over their harems.  They’re protective, caring, always alert.  When they sense danger, they send their ladies and fawns ahead and trail behind the herd as they blaze across space at 55mph.  I’ve always loved that about pronghorn.  It’s something I love about the men in my own life, too — I always feel protected by them in sketchy situations.  They send me forth into safety and watch my back for me as I go.

After enough time passed, I hiked back to the car, brushed the steppe country off my jeans and vest, pulled an iced tea out of the cooler and much revived, I continued on my way.