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.
