We left home at 04:40. Clear skies, full moon up in the southeast. Warm, forty degrees according to the truck. Pulled off the highway exactly an hour later, at 05:40, to open the gate so the heelers and I could head into the sand country south of Independence Rock for the first lek of the morning.

We were late. Sunrise would be in 18 minutes, and we had six miles of dirt road to go.

As I stopped at the gate, I looked at the pink clouds of the morning's sunrise on my left. Nothing impressive, but I seem to want to take a photo of every sunrise and sunset I see in the country now, no matter how bland. That's when I saw him.

A pronghorn buck, standing silhouetted on the rise between me and the dawn. Inside the highway right-of-way.

Quickly I grabbed the camera, and swung back to the antelope. But he was already moving.

After the first shot, I zoomed in, just in time to catch him turning back at the fence, only to drop out of sight on the other side of the embankment.

Since I had the camera ready, might as well grab a sunrise shot. As I aimed through the viewfinder, a vehicle came onto the screen. And I took the shot anyway, just because vehicles in the foreground look cool, sometimes. Certainly serendipity, since I probably met less than a half-dozen vehicles in the past 60 miles.

As I waited for the camera to reset itself, for a shot without the truck, I heard it. Not a "bam" nor a "wham", but more of a "whplam", like the truck had just run over a loose cattleguard, or a piece of heavy plastic in the road. I took my picture of the pink clouds with the empty highway, and as the image froze on the screen it hit me.

What that "whplam" was.

Ohh, no.

Sure enough, there was the pronghorn buck, staggering off onto the shoulder on the other side of the highway. I watched in dread, hoping he was only clipped by the truck, but knowing by the sound I had heard that he was not that lucky.

I could barely see him in the morning darkness, and all of a sudden he wasn't there anymore. And something light-coloured was flopping in the sage on the other side.

Chit.

Back into the truck, pushing the eager heelers aside, and onto the highway we went. For an almost immediate u-turn. And there he was.

Chit.

I had the blade of my shrade open by the time I reached the buck, and a quick check of his eyeball confirmed he was still alive.

But barely.

I had planned on ending his life, and his suffering, but now I could see that wasn't necessary. No need to inflict more violence on him. I stood silently, in the warm dawn air, and waited. After two failed attempts to draw air, it was over.

At 05:44.