We were in South Dakota, hunting pheasants and Hungarian partridge. The sky was overcast, and as the afternoon wore on we saw prairie lightning in the distance. Black clouds roiled toward us across darkening plains. Sheets of rain were slanting low and electricity hung in the air. "Time to get back," one of my friends said. I gauged the movement of the clouds and sun, and the photographer-dictator in me came out. "No, not possible!" I shouted. "We're staying!"