Kaiser's Ranch South Dakota 1990

I lie prone n the grass, listening to the meadow larks calling, the rustle of the grass. The gravel is rough under m, a newly emerging cactus sticks my in the thigh. I view the prairie dog village, miles of mounds marking their homes waiting patiently for things to quiet, my presence to fade into the smell of the sage. It gives me time to watch cotton puff clouds hang still in the bright blue sky, a Redtail Hawk circles over another part of this huge village looking for lunch. The dogs start coming out of their holes and so it is time. I shoulder my rifle, thumbing off the safety, the smell of gun oil replaces the sage. I pick my target, focus on my sight picture cheek welded to the varnished stock. Slowly I squeeze the trigger, holding my breath, steadying the rifle. It seems as though minutes have passed before I hear the retort, see the shiny spent casing fly out in front of me, feel the bolt ram another cartridge into the chamber and see a puff of dirt an inch to the left of the prairie dog.

He seems unconcerned so I adjust my sights a bit, take a breath,hold, and squeeze the trigger, again a loud report, the casing flying yards in front of me and the prairie dog disappears down his hole.

Then a shadow passes over me, the Redtail has come to join my hunt. The dog's shrill whistle warn of the danger from the sky and all duck into their holes. The hunt is over for now.