The wind blew hard across the open plains. It was early January in South Dakota, when high temperatures rarely venture above zero. I stood squatted alongside the road, admiring a trio of Bighorn Sheep from a distance. Much to my delight, as I sat and watched, the Bighorn slowly approached me, coming with yards of where I sat. Although I was nearly a camera-clutching popsicle, these gorgeous Bighorn seemed to be having a ball grazing on the grasses of the Great Plains.
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