At daybreak, we could already hear the cheerful song of attentive western meadowlarks -pleasant even to Slate, who had been on night duty.
Pronghorn fawns, little darts on the canvas, have already mastered three gears: a walk, a trot, and a see-you-later gallop.
Bison calves also are up for the race. Standing next to their meaty parents, svelte. Mom gives him a good lick with a monstrous tongue coming out of her giant head.
A wild mare quietly and patiently leads her colt by.
Of course, there is much more life on a smaller scale. As we round a shrub, grasshoppers of all sizes shoot out in every direction.