A Close Encounter

In retrospect, had he been so inclined, he could have had his way with me. And, in retrospect, had I any common sense, or sense of fear, I should have done something, anything, other than what I did. I suppose my highly evolved human brain was telling me I had encountered white-tailed deer during rutting season in the past and nothing negative had happened. So why panic?
I was about two and half miles into my hike and stopped to make some pictures of the little brown birds making a fuss in the brush. It was a great group; White-throated Sparrows, Song Sparrows, a couple Dark-eyed Juncos and a Field Sparrow or two.
I’d like to think I sensed, rather than heard the deer. I looked to my right and there he stood. He was within 10 feet of me. I quickly did the math: If I zoom back to 150mm, minimum focus is about 10 feet. Too close, and when I raise the camera he’ll … What will he do? Would a $3,000 Nikon club be a match for those six antler points or the sharp hooves? My point-and-shoot camera was in my jacket pocket, however, the battery had pooped out earlier.
Okay. I calmly assessed the situation and determined that, basically, I was dead meat.
He just stood there, looking at me. No huffing and puffing. No scraping the ground with his hooves. In a stare-down contest I might be able to take him. If it came to a smack-down, I was toast.
I thought maybe diplomacy might be the way out. I asked him what he thought of Tuesday’s elections? Did he think winter would be early this year? How ‘bout those Cleveland Cavilers? News, weather, sports; the basics of modern-day conversations.
We looked at leach other for what seemed like a long time. It was probably 15 seconds. He exhaled a short breath. I did the same. I didn’t realize I’d been holding mine. He turned his head and looked off in the direction he was heading. He didn’t move, only stared, head raised, totally at ease. Fearless.
The birds fussing in the bushes had stopped. Were they watching and waiting? I tried to see what he was seeing as we both gazed into the scenic valley to our west. I saw colorful cars zipping on the road. A gray building I knew to be a veterinary clinic. A colorful American flag stretched to its maximum in the stiff northwest wind. Multi-colored houses spotted the scene to our left and in the distance, a housing development blighted the far side of the valley.
And there were signs. Lots of signs. Litter on a stick. Signs telling me to do this, don’t do that. Bedraggled signs advising me to vote for this or not for that. Signs telling me where political boundaries were—as if it made a difference. Garish signs directing me to the scenic byway blocked my view of the scenic byway.
What did he see? Research by the University of Georgia, University of California and the Medical College of Wisconsin indicates that deer see primarily in shades of green and blue. Researchers believe that deer probably see fluorescent orange as lime green. So, other than loss of habitat, he probably could not make much sense out of what he saw. I realized we weren’t all that much different.
One last soft exhalation and he walked away, carefully picking his way down the slope, through someone’s backyard and into the protective arms of the national park.


Field Sparrow. Note the band on its right leg.