So stunningly beautiful, I forgot to fumble for my camera. I watched, mesmerized waiting for a second flash of the red tail that captured my attention at first.  A five-foot span of downy white underside, the color of an expensive sheepskin rug, lifted on the breeze and soared above me; spiraled, ever more distant toward the rising sun.  It was a red-tailed hawk, female by the size, soaring on the morning thermals about an hour after sunrise.

When the morning sun is at just the right angle, windows can be deadly for birds.  During the same hour the Blue Grouse was pursuing her reflection, a small, sparrow-like bird came to grief and sat stunned for several minutes regathering its bearings and equilibrium. Finally, it flew away.

Meanwhile, the dusky hen made her way around the building and chowed down on some juniper berries.  At least she is not starving in her solitary situation.

Yesterday, while hiking, I saw a fair number of Pinion Jays – but they will never sit still long enough to get a picture.  Frankly, I have no desire to trick them with windows or mirrors; nor delay my progress on the chance one will forget my presence and alight close by. It is enough to know I am the only human in a one-mile radius.  I am content to enjoy without capturing so much as a photo.

The Desert Bighorn Sheep, it seems, really do own the road.  They have even learned to read.  Not often that I see six or seven rams bringing up the rear of a heard of 40 or more sheep.