The dogs plowed on.
But then, like a shift in the air, there was an alert difference in them. They were looking up and ahead, seeing something I could not.I followed their signals and there, up on a curve in the road, was this beautiful buck. He just stood there, long enough for me to turn on the camera, pray it didn't jam on zoom and get off a couple of shots.
We stared at each other, no doubt with very different sensations, my being in awe, him being in potential danger.Then he hightailed it (and now we know where that saying comes from) down into the safety of the bush.
I was left laughing and thanking the dogs, the deer, the universe.
I've loved this poem for a long time. Adjusted for a Caribbean setting or right in your own world, it is very true for far more than deer.
|How to See Deer || |
|by Philip Booth |
Forget roadside crossings. Go nowhere with guns. Go elsewhere your own way, lonely and wanting. Or stay and be early: next to deep woods inhabit old orchards. All clearings promise. Sunrise is good, and fog before sun. Expect nothing always; find your luck slowly. Wait out the windfall. Take your good time to learn to read ferns; make like a turtle: downhill toward slow water. Instructed by heron, drink the pure silence. Be compassed by wind. If you quiver like aspen trust your quick nature: let your ear teach you which way to listen. You've come to assume protective color; now colors reform to new shapes in your eye. You've learned by now to wait without waiting; as if it were dusk look into light falling: in deep relief things even out. Be careless of nothing. See what you see.