Prairie Provisions

Mors tua, vita mea

Taking the river bottom byway through the sage in search of pronghorn who have eluded us all day. They dance like a mirage on some distant rise, the miles beneath our feet have not shortened how far we have to reach to touch the quarry we seek.

It was a perfectly placed shot, well within range, but he didn’t fall. While the antelope herd bounded away across the muted plains, the buck stood still. Legs splayed, he wobbled and swayed, nimble hooves firmly planted on the line between this life and the next. Another rifle report granted him peace. I marveled with shaky hands at the resilience of that tough old relic, determined to die on his feet, hoping I too could live with such tenacity.

Photos by Rick Hutton