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Stalking Deer Without A Deerstalker Hat

I thought this was a nifty title because (in some things) I am easily pleased. But I thought I had better get my facts straight about a deerstalker hat (’cause I only really had an image in mind). And I realized that that image was from Sherlock Holmes but, along the way, I found out that Holmes is never described as wearing a deerstalker hat, but that it was the device of an illustrator to his stories. So.
And, to be exact: The deerstalker is a fabric cap with a front and back peak and side earlaps which can be tied up atop the hat or worn down. The purpose of the dual peaks was to protect both the face and the back of the neck from the sun during long periods outside
We can be sure I was NOT wearing such a thing.
 
But the deer are real.
 
I had started down a hill toward a long copse of trees when I saw two fawns quite a distance before me. One bounded into a field but the other stayed on the road. It had to be an optical trick of perspective, but the fawn on the road seemed to be no taller than my knees. It followed the first fawn, but I waited because I was sure there would be a mother deer close by. And, in a couple of minutes, one wandered into view. Now, they had all given me a long once-over, but I didn’t move, so they all went their way. I eventually continued down the hill and along the road.
 
The road turned and I went with it. In a minute I saw all three across a field in the distance. The two fawns appeared to be grazing, but the mother certainly saw me. She stood stock-still and I did the same.
At a guess, we stayed this way for six or seven minutes. That is a long time to stand (for me) but I was in no rush..  The fawns were oblivious to me, but mother deerest did not take so kindly to such constant intrusion. She moved until she was out of my sight line, and then started to cough. Cough and wheeze at the same time. It was an exaggerated call, which the two offspring were ignoring. Their grub must have been good.
 
So I stayed, unmoving, for another few minutes, while the mother deer made this strange (to my ears) noise another half dozen times. Whether by this prompting, or by finally having enough of a feed, the fawns languidly made their way toward her. Soon, all were hidden by the trees.
 
I was relieved to continue on my way.
(image) https//:www.oldmission.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/deer-and-fawns-1020-1.jpg

A Bear Does Whatever It Wants In The Woods

bears-trail-camera-nova-scotia

One Christmas season over a decade ago, I looked after a dog whilst her owners went out of town.

Tibbit is a big, friendly dawg who likes inspecting piles of leaves. She has a long lead which her benevolent human allows to go as far as possible. She knows (better than her accompanying human) that there are treats at the end of each walk.

One Saturday I didn’t get Tibbit out until after dark. We skirted the university (where her masters work) and went up a street bordering the campus. We both liked the Christmas lights. Near the top of the street we met an inebriated gentleman, warning us of a bear in the surrounding woods.

“Flush him out,” said he, pointing at the dog, “And I’ll get my 3 aught 3.”

“Get the rifle first,” I replied.

We then went our respective ways.

Tibbit and I doubted the veracity of the gentleman, so when we came to a trail through the woods, we took it. I will admit I did peer more intently into the gloom than usual. One trail led to a larger trail, which led back to the university. We advanced without incident.

On Sunday, I again walked Tibbit toward the university, though from a different direction. It was a crisp, clear day, and she gamboled (as much as the leash allowed ) through the new fallen snow. Sunshine gleamed. This time we were on the other side of the campus, but our walk eventually led to a position about half a mile away from where we were the previous evening.

We followed another trail into the woods, and admired the sun through the fir trees. The path was wide and sloped. It came to a turn some distance away, that led us even closer to where we were the day before. At the top of the slope, Tibbit stopped dead in her tracks.

She stared and stared. 

She glanced briefly into the woods, but mainly kept staring along the trail.

I saw nothing nor heard anything (and I was intent upon both).

Tibbit did not move and made not a sound. She just kept staring. After a solid two minutes of this, I started to backtrack.

She made no complaint.

You betcha she got her dog treats.

(image) https://i.cbc.ca/1.4288335.1505334305!/fileImage/httpImage/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/original_620/bears-trail-camera-nova-scotia.jpg

A Boy And His Dog And A Bear // [Exit, pursued by a bear]

black-bear-snow-237327(image) http://4everstatic.com/pictures/674xX/animals/wildlife/black-bear,-snow-237327.jpg 

I suppose I’m too humble to class this as a Christmas miracle, for it is not up there with a Virgin Birth and all. But still, I do think God was in His heaven and all, in this instance (for me), was right with the world. 

One December I looked after a dog whilst her owners went out of town. Tibbit is a big, friendly dawg who likes inspecting piles of leaves. She has a long lead which her benevolent human allows to go as far as possible. She knows (better than her accompanying human) that there are treats at the end of each walk.

On Saturday I didn’t get Tibbit out until after dark. We skirted the university (where her masters work) and went up a street bordering the campus. We both liked the Christmas lights. Near the top of the street we met an inebriated gentleman warning us of a bear in the surrounding woods. “Flush him out,” said he, “And I’ll get my 3 aught 3.” “Get the rifle first,” I replied, and we went our respective ways. Now Tibbit and I doubted the veracity of the gentleman, so when we came to a trail through the woods, we took it. I will admit I did peer more intently into the gloom than usual, but one trail led to a larger trail which led back to the university. We advanced without incident.

On Sunday I again walked Tibbit toward the university, though from a different direction. It was a crisp, clear day and she gambolled (as much as the leash allowed ) through the new fallen snow. Sunshine gleamed. This time we were on the other side of the campus, but our walk eventually led to a position about half a mile away from where we were the previous evening. We followed another trail into the woods and admired the sun through the fir trees. The path was wide and sloped. It came to turn some distance away which would lead us even closer to where we were the day before. At the top of the slope Tibbit stopped dead in her tracks. She stared and stared. She glanced briefly into the woods but mainly kept staring along the trail. I saw nothing nor heard anything (and I was intent upon both). Tibbit did not move and made not a sound. She just kept staring. After a solid two minutes of this I started to backtrack and she made no complaint.

You betcha she got her dog treats.

DE

 

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