Today Tom and I took a walk around an old cemetary. I know, that sounds sort of macabre and creepy, but we live near busy streets (not conducive to walking) with no real “parks” within walking distance. A lot of those old graves don’t get visitors anymore, so we’re happy to oblige. We walk around and take note of the stones, remarking on interesting names: “Guiseppe…Sabina…Tukis…” [Best name I ever saw was in an old cemetary on Martha’s Vineyard: Lucretia Storm.]
So we’re wandering and then Tom exclaims: “deer!” Maybe I would have considered this a term of endearment if not for the fawn springing among the stones across from us. Like this little lady, only we did not get quite this close:
She stood behind some gravestones looking around, turning her head and shifting those big ears like satellite dishes. While I would never presume to know a deer’s mind, I would guess something like this: “what’s-what’s this? what’s-oh-oh what’s that? and that and oh-oh this!” After a few seconds of this she looked right at us. We were standing very still, of course. Maybe she mistook us for some marble statuary, because she started leaping directly toward us, only to suddenly divert her path maybe ten feet away.
She was breathtakingly beautiful. I know that’s a cliche and all, but to see this speckled little creature, with her big ears and fluffy white tail leap out of the trees is a bit startling if you don’t see such a thing every day. As much as I loved looking at her, the proximity of the busy street made us nervous, and we started murmuring “go back, go back”. Luckily she decided to do just that. She turned and sprang back – not simply running, more springing and leaping and fairly flying – and disappeared into the trees at the back of the cemetary. Phew.