Deer Crossing

I was nearing the end of my long run today, trying to complete an extra half-mile to meet my goal of ten miles.  I ran down to the end of Fifth Street, stopped to stretch a little, and then came back and turned up Chestnut Street.  It was there that I saw something that I have never seen before on a run during nearly 35 years of running in Highlands.  No, not a snake (I've jumped over little ring necks on Lower Lake Road), nor a bear (I've seen them more than once, and closer than I liked).  A deer, a big doe, ambling casually across Chestnut Street just above Village Walk.  I stopped to watch as, less than twenty feet away, she strolled in the front yard of one of the condos in Mill Creek Village, and then walked down Village Walk where I had planned to run.

I love watching these graceful creatures, which we often see in the wide pastures down our road in Clear Creek, or in remote places like Mt. LeConte, where I took this photo a few years ago:

One does not expect to see deer wandering around Highlands.  But my wife and my mother-in-law have both seen them this summer, perhaps this same big doe.  She has found the Village Walk hostas so tempting, I suppose, that she was willing to risk encountering cars and gawking runners to nibble at them.  She tip-toed down Village Walk Drive, the same street where lawnmowers and leaf-blowers had been whining just an hour ago, and then it seemed as if she was becoming uncomfortable with my quiet, reverent pursuit, and in one quick move she leaped across a hedge and began walking across the big expanse of grass behind the condos, looking over her shoulder and twitching her tail.

A couple was walking toward me down the street, and although I did not know them I thought I had seen them earlier in the week.  "Just saw a deer, a big doe!"  I said.  "You might still be able to see her, over across that field!"

"We've never seen one here before," they said.  "Or a bear, either!"

"This is the first time I've seen one right in Town," I said.  "Isn't it great to live in a Town where you can come upon a deer?"

"It is," the man said.  "But sadly we're leaving Monday and going home."

I didn't ask where home was.  But I knew where home was for me, and I was thankful that it was here.  I was reminded of one of my favorite poems.

Deer Crossing

The deer crossed the road--a doe, I think--

As suddenly as a stone skipped on bright water,

Breaking into my lazy morning reverie.

She did not hesitate, but leapt across unerringly,

As surely as anything I knew--as surely

As an accident, a coincidence, an unavoidable encounter,

Like rope snapped out taut, an event in time and place

One knew could not have been circumvented.

How unlike us!  Headlong with her grace,

Plunging down the steep grade and out of sight;

Not choosing her footing carefully

As the theologians do.