The next morning was freezing, but thankfully not windy. We arrived at camp just before dawn, after spending a restless night in the hotel, praying and napping as 5:00 am slowly rolled around. Our hunting guides Mike and Tom were already there waiting for us. The truck was already running and heated. All we needed to do was grab my rifle, pack inside the truck, and go. 

For some reason, while I had accepted that I probably would leave this year's hunting grounds without meat for the freezer, I still felt that I had a chance. It was a very small chance, but the chance was still big enough to get me out of bed this morning, and early at camp dressed in layers of camo. I arrived at camp hungry, but I was too excited to care. 

Mike and Tom decided to take us far south near some hunting grounds just off the main highway. We could hunt on both sides; the east and the west. At first, Tom suggested we try the east towards the highway, but just as he suggested it, he slammed on the brakes and we watched as a large herd of pronghorn doe emerged from the east through the growing fog, and crossed the road. A younger doe got stuck at the fence and trotted around a little bit, but found a spot to slide under just as a buck came charging in after her. Tom didn't even get to stop the truck before me and Mike were outside running after the pronghorn. I handed Mike my rifle, and I quickly threw myself under the fence where the pronghorn had just gone, with enough force to slide right under just like the pronghorn, as he loaded my already-loaded magazine into the chamber. Mike then handed me my rifle, crawled under the fence, and led me towards the ridge the pronghorn had dove under. 

The pronghorn were trotting now, with their white butts towards us. I sighted one broadside doe in at 175 yards, but the buck just had to come in and chased her and the herd out at a canter. I still looked for another shot, but the grass was just too tall. I was on my stomach with the rifle barrel on a backpack. If I wanted to increase my chances, I needed to take a risk and change my position. I could only hope my gun was sighted in for a kneeling or a standing shot, just as it was for a shot laying down. 

We breathlessly walked back to the truck. I unloaded my rifle, gave it to Mike, and slid under the fence. We both climbed back into the truck, shivering with cold and excitement. Tom asked for our excuses as to why we weren't bringing back an animal, and Mike explained that the grass was too tall and the herd was already running off anyway. Tom agreed that I needed another plan, got out of his truck, and came back with a tripod.