Call of the Wild

One of Lamar's redeeming qualities is the herd of deer living on the town's edge. They bed near my parents' home and we often see them when we go for walks. During our last Christmas visit, Skip and I hunted the group in hopes of capturing a large buck in a sunset photo. Or Skip was trying to get his pregnant wife to workout.

He dressed me in snow camo and tugged me through the foot of snow until the deer sensed us. Then he'd have me crouch down and sneak up to them. Yes, me and my 7-month baby bump slowly approaching a buck with antlers larger than my frame. My family way did nothing to soften the deer to me, but I think they remember Pippa.

Today on a walk along the creek, Pippa and I came across the same herd of deer with their fawn. I had Pippa in her carrier. You'd think she'd revel in snuggling next to my chest, a gentle breeze on her face, chirping insects and birds singing, and my undivided attention. I gazed into her eyes the entire time, chatting away about her beauty. No, tonight this did nothing for her but interrupt her nap and she softly whined for the first mile of our journey.

A whine that called to the deer. As they crossed our path they watched us intently. Pippa's lower lip would tremble, her face drawn in a so sad clown frown and "meeeeehh." The deer would instantly stop, turn their heads and stare at us curiously. The closer we got and with Pippa's continued whimpers and whines the curious stare turned into a glare as if to say, "why do you torture that child."

I'm glad the bucks missed this chance meeting, no need to become a statistic of mother's gored by an angry buck trying to protect an infant. Much better to report that Pippa is her daddy's daughter and has perfected her stranded fawn imitation. Bow season opens in September?