Imagine this scenario: You are tracking a wide and heavy mule deer buck over a low ridge somewhere in the sagebrush ocean of public land in eastern Oregon. The minute you crest the ridge, though, you are greeted not by the buck of your dreams within rifle range, but rather an industrial complex of high-tension power lines, chain-link fences and access roads. The buck has vanished into a labyrinth of modern machinery.
It’s not a gas field or a mine; it’s a solar farm, converting the abundant sunshine of the prairie into kilowatts. But to a public-land hunter, the effects of a shallow-gas
