Sunday as I pulled out of the driveway heading to Bardstown, I looked over at the tree line that runs perpendicular to the fence line on the neighbor’s property. As we passed, I spotted a good size coyote standing facing the road. I tried to point it out to Emily, but she missed it, so I turned around in the neighbor’s driveway and went back. Still standing in the same place, looking strong and confident she was able to see it well, until I slowed down causing alarm and it ran toward the tree line. I moved on and directly on the opposite side of the tree line there was a buck. He looked so poised with his head up and antlers so perfect facing the road. He saw us and darted toward the tree line. The same tree line that the coyote was running into from the opposite side. The buck must have seen it as he ran toward the tree line and adjusted his gallop to follow the tree line instead of entering. I wish I could draw. It was all so eye and mind catching. The contrast of the coyote on one side of the tree line and the buck on the other.
I tried to remember the other awesome buck we saw on the parkway coming back from Bardstown, but I am struggling with the memory of where I saw it and the surroundings at the time because of yesterday's experience on the Hundred Acre wood. Yes, the very next day, Monday, we were schooling, and Daisy lay on the back step soaking up the sun. Daisy jumped up and started barking. I ran to the back door to make sure it wasn't a coyote because she will run to greet the beasts as if they are in her own personal dog park. Looking toward the work trailers it takes me a minute to focus, but there it is, the same buck from Sunday that was across the road. And as Daisy runs toward it, I step out on the patio. I always yell for Daisy to stop. I don't know why. She never does. I guess it's just my fear of the coyote luring and attacking her or the deer kicking her that spawns the instinct.
She stayed within ten feet of the buck, prancing, barking and wagging her tail. Some greeting or maybe just a friendly warning, I'm not sure. The stout monstrous antlered buck just moseying along, flitting its white tail as Daisy prances close barking. Daisy weighs almost 90 lbs. She takes up half the couch. She looked so small near the buck.
I had just taken my good camera back to the bedroom to put away. I had no clue where my phone was to instruct Emily to bring it with her as I called her to witness the treasured moments. She came out slowly as I instructed and stopped moving. I even kept my arm up where I had been holding the door as so not to make any movements that would cause alarm. We watched it walk along the field with Daisy. Daisy stopped barking and even took a moment to squat and pee in the presence of the statuesque visitor. They walked side by side at times as they came toward the back yard...yes, walked the line of the field and the back yard. Daisy was more alert as it got closer to the yard and began barking again. It walked effortlessly. I felt as if I were in a dream. I caught myself not focusing on the moment at times wishing I had my camera. So, I openly offered thanks to God with Emily standing still in the presence of this blessed event. I thanked him for the opportunity to live here, to be a witness to the buck's passing through, to experience it all with Emily standing beside me. He moved to the apple tree in front of the back patio where we stood. A total of three points on each side of the antlers. Two at the top and one coming from the side and only 30 feet from Emily and myself. Flitting its white tail, moving its head toward Daisy's barking and prancing. I asked Emily to move slowly back into the door where she had taken my spot holding the door open. She didn't question but complied. This whole scene was so unpredictable. As she backed slowly, the buck seemed to finally notice us and jerked, then ran toward the part of the fence that is not so covered with trees and foliage, where the groundhog lives, and effortlessly jumped over toward the road.
Please, Lord, don't let him get hit. We watch as he ran across the road to the other side as cars passed. He ran north up the road to my mailbox area and then jumped the fence running toward the same area I first saw him Sunday with the coyote. Just as quickly as it began it was over.
I know as years pass, even the etched dear moments will pass through my memory banks. Maybe, when I'm older and lonely for past times Emily will find this and read it to me and make it come alive once again.