Birds are usually predictable little drama queens, but Pronghorns? They are still a mystery wrapped in fur - something I'will probably be puzzling over for quite a while.
Meeting a young, beautiful female pronghorn was a delight - and also a bit of a plot twist.
Young Pronghorn paused just long enough for me to kneel down and attempt a "majestic" wildlife shot from a low angle, like some kind of nature documentary.
And then... chaos. Out of nowhere, she suddenly ran towards me. I froze, somewhere between "wildlife photographer" and "frighten garden gnome" completely unsure of what to do.
Luckily, the young female stopped short, apparently satisfied with the look of panic on my face. I exhaled, legs still wobbly, and made a mental note: pronghorns don't always follow the script.
Generally, life is good.
