Wednesday, April 20, 2005
It's not often that you spot them before they spot you. Yesterday, under an ominous and low but dry cloudy sky, I was chugging along on a 2-mile run when I heard something in the brush, not 20 feet from the trail where I stopped short. At first, I panicked, figuring the twin white stripes and upturned tail to be a skunk, who usually don't take kindly to interlopers.
I was confused for a few seconds while my mind resolved things: the creature's body was brown, not black, and it was far too large to be a skunk. By the time they noticed me, I had counted at least four of them. Later, I'd recall six deer peering curiously back at me, not inclined to run, checking me out as I tried not to move.
We had about five minutes together, silently peering around branches and me hoping nobody else came along. They got tired of me and took off quietly, and I watched them as long as I could. I felt bad about stopping my run, but I've never been that close to a live deer before. When I was sure they were gone, I booked it back home, in record time.
I was confused for a few seconds while my mind resolved things: the creature's body was brown, not black, and it was far too large to be a skunk. By the time they noticed me, I had counted at least four of them. Later, I'd recall six deer peering curiously back at me, not inclined to run, checking me out as I tried not to move.
We had about five minutes together, silently peering around branches and me hoping nobody else came along. They got tired of me and took off quietly, and I watched them as long as I could. I felt bad about stopping my run, but I've never been that close to a live deer before. When I was sure they were gone, I booked it back home, in record time.
