(A short post while I wait for an answer to a work-related question, without which I can't proceed.)
I saw two things today; A dead deer, covered with flies; and a snake. The snake was alive. I'm only slightly more fond of deer than I am of snakes, so I didn't really mourn the former, but had the choice been mine, the deer would be frolicking around Rock Creek Park right now, and the snake would be deceased.
Actually, I'm not particularly fond of any animal in the wild. I was raised in the city, and 16 years in the suburbs have not made me accustomed to everyday encounters with wild animals. I don't count squirrels, of course, which are more urban than mass transit, but I still can't get used to the sight of foxes on my front lawn at 6 in the morning, and the deer around here are have become overly comfortable with humans. When I first moved into this house, ten years ago, I'd walk my then-little children around the neighborhood; one walking beside me and the other in his stroller. The deer were still timid then, and they'd turn tail and run as soon as we got within 20 feet or so. Although I have no empirical evidence to this effect, I feel sure that they have become bolder with each passing year. They stand their ground now as I pass, and more than once I've seen an aggressive expression on a deer's face. Within a year, I'll be backing away from them with my head down; in five years, I'll probably be running.
"Running," of course, should be read as "walking pretty darn fast." If you ever see me actually running, you'd better run too. Don't ask questions, don't turn around to see what's going on, just run. Save yourself. There might be another snake coming after me, or the deer might finally have turned predator. It's only a matter of time.
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