Jaci Dawn

I will be gone for the next ten days.

I’m going to the desert. Not the hot, sultry desert of shifting sand dunes, but the high desert of the Great Basin country. The sagebrush country of icy October winds and sudden snow squalls, black ice and dark purple rain clouds. The high desert country where you can see for miles and miles and miles and all around you are purple mountains jutting sharply into the sky.

Wild horse country. Open range country where cattle roam free. Coyotes scavenge, turkey vultures sit on the telephone lines contemplating road kill, golden eagles sit atop power poles and contemplate turkey vultures, and the jack rabbit plays Kamikaze Bunny.

Oh. You don’t know that game? It’s a game where the jack rabbit tests his skill and speed against oncoming cars. Usually the jack rabbit loses. And the turkey vulture likes that. The jack rabbit doesn’t learn: before cars came, he was the master of speed and agility.

The antelope beg to differ. They race cars, but they have the sense to run parallel to the highway, not try to cross it.

Most of the time.

There are rattlesnakes, bull snakes, Jerusalem crickets, and Mormon crickets. If we see any Mormon crickets, I’ll be sure to take photos, but I think they may have gone into hibernation now.

It is also the country of the elusive jackalope.

You saw that coming, I hope.

I’m going to take my official jackalope hunting license just in case we see one.

I’ve seen mounted jackalopes, so I know they exist. (Unlike Bigfoot, which I have never seen an official head mount of. But I know Bigfoot exists, too. How do I know? It’s just a “knowing”, like a sixth sense or something.)

I have a “knowing” about jackalopes, too.

I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures.