Dear Deer, Please forgive me.

I love Saturday mornings in the country!

I get up early even when I do not have to because I want to get out to the pasture. The pasture is a big open field approximately 6-7 acres large and bordered at its back by a dense forest, which is my view every time I open my front door. When I am early enough, which is about half-past dawn, I get to see the deer rise and greet their day.

This morning, I am looking for the two deer that sleep in what appears to be a favored bedding ground.

Rewarded! They are there!

When they see me, I can tell they are surprised. Like deer in the headlights. Without the headlights.

I get the deer stare for a moment and then a snort of irritation and annoyance before they quickly leap over to the shelter of overhanging tree branches from the one tree in the whole field. The tree is enormous, and as of right now, I do not know what kind it is, but you can bet I will find out. That is my next mission after experiencing this early Saturday morning expedition. For now, the name of the tree is Big-Huge.

I continue into the pasture and walk along the perimeter. The owner’s son, my friend, had mowed a path for me that is honestly more like a road. He did this to provide a shoulder on which Co-Co and I can walk for exercise and exploration.

I use the word “mowed” here, but I feel I must clarify. Before I moved out to the country, whenever I thought of “mowing,” it was with a fancy push mower or, at the most, a riding lawnmower on a little spot of grass that comprised a lawn in the suburbs.

The contraption that showed up to mow this pasture was a colossal machine that looked like space-aged farm equipment. My friend rode in an air-conditioned cab that he said smelled like a “lizard had died” in the vent while behind him was a piece of winged machinery 15-feet wide and attached to the tractor. The great wings folded upright when not in use and were fascinating to watch in motion.

A bat-winged mower is the name of this awe-inspiring attachment, and its name does NOT do it justice. I would call it more of a pterodactyl-winged mower or albatross-winged mower instead. It is something to see for sure.

He mowed this path/road for us after Co-Co and I had a particularly harrowing adventure while in the field “exploring” AT DUSK! It was so bad, Co-C0 does not follow me into the pasture anymore. However, that is another story, but I will point out that dusk turns to dark relatively quickly. In other words, I was foolish. Again.

I digress, as I am wont to do.

Okay, so; deer in the headlights. I mean pasture, deer in the pasture.

I see my two deer friends once more as they leap away from the shelter of Big-Huge in which they had initially taken cover. I bet they wish I would leave them be, but I cannot. It is too wonderful of a sight to not seek out. The purity of this natural setting is what drives me to it morning after morning.

I do have the thought and am somewhat worried that my presence takes away from the naturalness of the scene. I try my best to stay quiet and small with visions of Jane Goodall in my head, attempting to become one with the wildlife.

“At least I’m not building a subdivision,” I say to myself as a way of rationalizing my invasive actions.

I am so in need of this natural therapy that the deer simply must forgive me. The offerings of this Saturday morning expedition help me to stay in the here and now as I observe first this, then that, then yet another fascinating plant, bird, insect, or ground animal. It is exercise for my brain, fodder for my creativity, and a form of meditation for my soul, which is in much need of the respite care nature has to offer.

I love Saturday mornings in the country!