Yesterday I woke early and headed to the local coffee shop to do some writing. Just moments before that, I nearly died.
At the north end of our town, there is a large, serene and beautiful cemetery carved out of an old desiduous forest. It’s populated by several deer, rabbits, bluebirds, and Dick Van Dyke. I like to walk my dog there, and take it all in.
Today, my walk was cut short a bit, and I only made it as far as the entrance of the cemetery. As my dog and I approached, we were both startled by what sounded like a cross between a girl sneezing and a 99 cent plastic bicycle horn. We both looked up and saw two deer quickly bolting from their grazing spot just outside the cemetery in a small residential area. A fawn (the one who honk-sneezed at us) took the path to the left, and the mother went to the right, both now on opposite sides of the cemetery’s mausoleum. The fawn ran until it was into the woods out of sight, but the mother stopped short of the woods, and turned around to look for her child.
During all this, I had continued to follow the main road into the cemetery, which coincidentally was the same path the fawn had taken. The mother didn’t see it as a coincidence, however. She glared at us from her post, then began taking steps toward us. Don’t let those cute anime saucer eyes fool you. Deer are ninjas, and they’ll take you down quick if you force them into a fight or flight decision, especially if it involves their babies.
We continued on our path, and the doe continued to close the gap between us. We were now a threat to her child, and we stood between them both. I assessed the situation, and decided that it was time to abandon our course and leave the cemetery. Except for my dog, I think all parties involved agreed this was the best solution. The deer were reunited, I wasn’t dead or maimed, and my dog was soon distracted by one of summer’s last cicadas on the way back home.