As the days grow colder we see the signs of winter. The little blackbirds begin to swarm in larger numbers. One day the Canadian geese are no longer around. The leaves from our tree have fallen and the grasses are golden beige hues. The mountains in the distance are dusted white and many days are overcast and we simply trust that the mountain are still out there in the distance. But the sign we're most aware of, is the antelope. We enjoy watching for them in the mornings on gopher hill and look forward to their afternoon naps and visits to the pond and salt lick. All summer long we see a few here and a few there, but as they begin to congregate in larger numbers in the fall we wonder each day, 'Will this be the last day we see them this year?' It's always delightful to see them again the next day. They tend to come closer and closer to the house and we spend moments staring at each other...
Until... one day... they're gone.
This year however...
they left one behind.
This little guy was all alone behind the barn.
We called him Mohawk.
His leg was injured. He couldn't stand up and allowed us to get close enough to shift him and bring him some water. We didn't know what else to do for him.
We called the wildlife game warden and they came out and took him away.
