The Buck

We’ve been fortunate as of late. The trails have been quiet. At least the out-of-the-way ones we seek out have been. Perhaps it is because of the return of the raw, colder weather—the freezing rain, snow, and just plain rain. We’ve not seen another human soul in more than forty miles of walking.

Twice, however, we’ve enjoyed close encounters with white-tailed deer. The first was a mother and her two growing youngsters. They bounded across the trail in front of us with such graceful energy I was reminded of a choreographed dance troup. I half believed that after each lift-off they would continue their ascent and never return to earth. Oh, how they carried my longing spirit with them!

Samwise and Emily are natural chasers, but they’ve gotten to the point where when their instincts stir and they prepare to follow, they pause first, and look to me.

Samwise is almost five-years-old, while Emily is closing in on four. Compared to Atticus (he of the oldest of souls), though, they seem perpetua…