Saturday, June 21, 2008
I Barked at a Deer Yesterday
(Obviously, not the deer in the photo. No snow on the ground yesterday. At least not that I noticed.)
When our collie-shepherd, Caroline, was alive, we never saw deer near the house. Caroline had only three legs (thanks to an overzealous hunter) and no inclination whatsoever to chase deer, but evidently deer didn't know that. They kept a respectful distance, which was a real boon for our garden.
However, Caroline has been gone for several years now, and it didn't take the deer long to move on in. Yesterday I looked out the kitchen window and saw a large buck taking his lunch break at my plum tree. Munch, munch . . . I watched the baby plums disappear and thought about the roses, hosta, phlox, and sunflowers not far away.
Remembering the deer's response to Caroline, I opened up the back door and barked. It was a great bark—deep, aggressive, and nasty.
I took a deep breath and barked again—louder, longer, meaner.
This time I got his attention. He stopped eating and turned to face me.
And then he lifted his leg.