It's almost nine-thirty. The wife, getting ready for bed, stares at me as I put on the uniform this late at night.

It almost certainly won't work, but I'll never forgive myself if I don't at least try...

I grab the big camping flashlight as I head out the door. I have to drive several miles up the interstate before finding a place to turn around. As I pull onto the exit ramp, I call dispatch.

Can you let the highway patrol know I'm going to be parking my vehicle on the east-bound exit ramp with my emergency lights going?

"Sure."

She comes right back, "Can I tell them why?"

So I explain about my futile attempts to net the orphaned pronghorn fawn during the day. And my offbeat idea to try again at night, using a spotlight to blind the fawn. To hopefully let me get close enough to use the net.

I pull up alongside the dead doe.

No fawn.

Just the same, I gather my huge butterfly net and lantern, and trek out into the dark sage. Sweeping the light, hoping to glimpse some eyeshine.

There is no one.

But you know I had to try.

As I pull into town, I let dispatch know I'm no longer parked on the interstate.

Her voice is hopeful as she asks, "Were you successful?"

No. No, there is no joy in Mudville tonight.