Encounters

     There were two encounters at Iten's Acres last week.  The first came at about mid-morning when the matriarch called out from her throne, "What's this big animal walking down the driveway?"  I couldn't imagine.  What would be out there that she wouldn't recognize?  I rose from my blue leather chair at the back of the house where I was, no doubt, doing nothing of significance, and walked to the front of the abode.  Was it a lost elk from upper Michigan?  Was it a bear from who knows where?  Was it just a large coyote?  I've seen one or two of them lately, but she's seen one of them before.  We had a storm the day before (thanks again, Kathy), but I don't think it was a thunder of Hippos.  Before I could even reach a viewing area--the kitchen window--I heard, "Oh, it's a deer."  And behold it was.  I admit it was the biggest deer by far that I have ever seen on the Acres.  Huge.  Beautiful creature, strolling down the driveway as if he owned it.  Why is it that beautiful things can be so destructive?  Anyway, as protector of the Acres, I grabbed the old trusty .22 and headed out the door.  By the time I got out there, he was past the turn in the driveway and wandering by the flower beds, and I'm sure, looking hungrily at the hibiscus and lilies.  When he saw me coming, his first response was a deer smirk.  He just looked at me, did a deer shrug, and looked away.  But, ahhhhh, when I fired the gun, he sprang into action, veered right into Dennis' thicket, and disappeared.  I hope he kept going across 25, through the swamp, and into the woods on the other side.  No, animal lovers, I did not shoot at the creature.  I shot at the ground and hoped for the fear effect.  It has worked before, and it worked again.  Goodbye, beautiful devourer of beauty.  Don't come back.
     I wish we could talk to the animals.  I really wouldn't mind their presence if they weren't so voracious.  In fact, as I said, this deer was gorgeous.  What would I tell him?  "Say, dear deer, let's make a deal.  You can cross my property any time unmolested by this chubby old bald guy.  Just promise not to eat the flowers.  I'll tell you what.  I'll even buy you a huge bale of hay in the winter.  I'll put out a salt block, too.  And in hunting season you and yours can use my place for a sanctuary.  I'll put up 'No Hunting' signs, wrap ribbons around you with a sign that says 'Pet Deer, don't shoot,' open up the shed so you can sleep inside safely.  Just don't eat the daisies or anything else.  Deal?"  Wouldn't that be good?  Sigh.  Not going to happen.  Sorry, if I see you again, I'll come gunning.
     The second encounter is actually becoming a regular occurrence.  If it's a cool time of day, I begin my walk by helping Mom into a chair on the front patio.  She puts on her sun glasses, the pillow goes behind her, I give her her phone so she can call me while I'm out back if she needs me, and the old baseball hat goes on her head.  She loves it, surrounded by flowers, birds, and the activity of a country yard.  Then, I'm off to traverse the meadow and wild area, trudge around the pond, or wander by all the gardens out front.  On occasion, I'm fortunate enough to run into Dennis out back, and we can have a neighborly chat.  The encounter occurs when I come back to sit with Mom, and there, sitting happily by her side is one of the outlaws--Bonnie or Gus.  They have discovered that if Mom is out there, they can get all the petting they want.  Dog Heaven.  It's a lovely sight.  I am a little surprised because Mom is more of a cat person and actually has a little fear of dogs, but she has found two friends here, and love casts out fear as you all know.  I am allowed to join the party and do some petting of my own, but Mom is the star.  And she knows it.  And revels in it.  And yes, reveling is good.
     Walking Iten's Acres you just never know what you might encounter.  But encounters are good--even those with beautiful dangers.