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plan, plan and plan again Plan A was me, armed with an oversized butterfly net, sneaking around to see if I could get close enough to net the orphaned pronghorn fawn. Didn't work. Plan B was basically the same as plan A, only at 10 o'clock at night with a bright spotlight. Didn't work. Plan C was having a local cowboy, quite adept with his lariat, try crawling up close to the fawn, again bedded next to her dead mother, and roping it. He got soooo, so close. Didn't work. Plan D was three of us herding the fawn into an oblique fence corner, hoping that either I with my net or the cowboy with his lasso would be able to snag the little fawn as she darted out. Didn't work. Plan E was me hiding in spiny, ant-rich greasewood bushes with my net as the cowboy ran the fawn past me, with the game warden using her truck to keep the fawn herded off the interstate. We would only have one chance, and my timing and aim would have to be perfect. |
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