Tom proceeded to take us to the far south lands, which were across the railroad and near a large power plant. We hoped some of the doe scattered and ended up in the southwest field, or that there were more doe there. We slowly drove along a fence line. Mike scanned the land with his binoculars while Tom slowly crept the truck forward. Tom stepped on the brakes as Mike pointed out a small herd of pronghorn right near the railroad tracks a mile and a half away. Because they were peacefully grazing, and at least three of the four animals were does, Tom kicked me and Mike out to walk over there. 

Mike and I could sneak up on the grazing pronghorn relatively easily. The pronghorn were grazing in a bowl, and there were several hills we needed to walk over, which would make us invisible until we were 400 yards away. Because of this, for the first three fourths of a mile, Mike and I ran. We kept our eyes on the pronghorn to make sure they couldn't see us, and we kept our bodies low. We were adrenalized, cold, hungry, and badly wanted to get something today. 

When we reached the final hill before a ridge, we slowed to a stop. Mike checked out the herd again with his binoculars, and was surprised to find that all four pronghorn were does. One of the animals was a yearling, but the rest were large and mature does. They were all broadside to us, and peacefully grazing the grass below the ridge near the train tracks. As long as we were very slow and careful up to the ridge, I would have a good chance to shoot. 

We stalked towards the ridge in a crouched position. One of the mature does suddenly shot her head up towards us, and we didn't even dare to breathe. For 15 seconds or so, we maintained eye contact with the doe, who was about 350 yards away. But she soon lost interest and went back to grazing with the others. Again, we lowered our bodies and stalked some more. I would've been on all fours, but I had my rifle in my hands. There was no way I was gonna throw it over my shoulder to stalk lower. 

Halfway to the ridge, we dropped to our bellies. Our plan to army-crawl the rest of the way was ruined, when both Mike and I silently jumped and winced as soon as we made contact with the ground. Despite the pain, we dared not move as the whole herd was now looking our way. Mike had yelped very quietly, but audibly. We stared back at them for what seemed like hours, but just like last time, the does forgot about us and went back to grazing. We slowly pulled ourselves up to our knees, carefully making sure we didn't get any cactus needles in our clothes. I looked to Mike for guidance, and he motioned me to follow him forward while remaining crouched over my feet. 

We made it to the ridge without spooking the pronghorn, and we slowly placed the rifle on the tripod. I was about to lay down, but Mike tapped me on the shoulder and led my eyes all around the ground. I was surrounded by very small and very spiky cacti. I'd have to take the shot in a sitting kneel. In order to fold my legs under my body, I had to balance myself on my left hand. I winced and bit the inside of my cheek as cactus needles skewered deeply into my hand. I tasted blood. Mike also cringed pretty hard. I was determined to get a shot, so I ignored the pain even though I had a fistful of cactus needles stuck in me pretty deep. I could not use my left hand to hold the barrel stock on my rifle. I just had to trust the tripod would do the work without my help. 

Mike took out his binoculars and started naming positions of each doe. We could see three animals, and the fourth was barely visible since she had found a ditch right below the rail tracks to graze in. I sighted in the middle doe. It would be a long 225-235 yard shot if I took it. To put it into perspective, that is about as long as a city block and a quarter. I knew it was a risk, but it was a risk I was willing to take. It would be the only chance I had that day. As Mike continued to mumble numbers and positions to me, I kept the sights steady on the middle doe and calculated where my round would hit the best I could. 

I flicked off the safety. My ears went deaf, and my vision became completely tunneled through the scope. I let all of the air out of my lungs, carefully began to pull back on the trigger, but just before I could fire, I sucked in a breath to return sound to my ears, and straightened my finger off the trigger. I watched without blinking or breathing, as the small fawn crossed between my sights and the mature doe I was aiming for. My heart was pounding in my ears, and it looked like slow motion as the fawn slowly passed the mature doe. The does suddenly looked up and everything paused. The does stared for a few seconds towards us, but went back to eating, and the doe fawn wandered away.

Again, I began to slowly put pressure on the trigger, my vision tunneled through the scope, and the world went silent. I had my black crosshairs on the doe just behind her shoulder. I counted the tick marks to make sure I would hit right where I wanted to hit. As she grazed just a little more, I felt the stock of my rifle kick back, and I pulled away from the sights. I could barely hear anything over the ringing in my ears, and a major adrenaline flush blinded me almost completely for a second, but as the seconds ticked, I slowly regained my hearing and eyesight. I could hear Mike's voice, but couldn't exactly tell what he was saying for a couple seconds, and all I could see was a black silhouette of my gun and pale yellow everywhere else. When my eyesight returned, I briefly saw two does charging at us from the left before they veered towards the east and disappeared behind a hillside, but the ringing was still deafening. 

"Stumbling... Stumbling... Down!" Mike announced over my ringing ears as he held binoculars to his eyes, "You got her! You got her!"

I let out a long breath as the ringing almost completely went away, relieving my lungs of the air that had made them sore from holding in for so long. I leaned back from the rifle with my hands over my face. 

"Ohhhhhh.... Lord....." was all I could whisper as I inhaled and exhaled again. 

"You did it! You freakin' did it!" Mike mumbled again as he tapped my shoulder. 

"I did? I did?" I shakily whispered as we bumped fists, "You sure? I lost track of her."

"Yes. You got her." Mike confirmed as he looked through his binoculars, "She's down."

I looked back towards the direction we came. We couldn't see the truck, but I knew they could see us. I made several hand-waving motions in that direction, and pretty soon the sound of a diesel engine disrupted the silent plains, and a red truck came up and over a far hill. 

"Chamber another round. We'll wait." Mike instructed. 

"Why?" I asked as I pulled out the bolt to let the empty round out and chambered a live round. 

"Well, while she is down and probably dead, it's always good to have another round handy just in case. Sometimes pronghorn will "play" dead, but our movement will scare them up again. We will approach her very slowly, but you had a good shot. You did good, Maya, you did good." Mike whispered as he gazed at her using his binoculars again.