Acorns

A few weeks ago I pulled onto our street at twilight to see three deer browsing in our neighbor's yard. Our street is lined with pin oaks that drop their tiny acorns about the time the street lights up with brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows. Of course it's not wise to park one's car in the street during the Autumn season for fear of what appears to be hail dents, but the local wildlife sure enjoy the bumper crop. So I guess it should come as no surprise to me what I ran into tonight.

I have a street course I run to stay in shape. It winds around our horseshoe, up a hill, and onto a beautiful brick street full of doctors and retirees. At the end of the street around a bend is a public garden with every flower, plant, and tree conceivable. Oaks, maples, willows and the like traverse its landscape. Directly across the street are a few houses and a church with, you guessed it, more oak trees. Tonight as I ran beneath the full moon, I heard a crash off to my right along with the sound of crunching leaves. Twenty yards in front of me trotted four does crossing the street, white flags waving back and forth with each step. Three of them high tailed it for the cover of a line of trees while one, a yearling, stopped right underneath a street light so that I could get a better look at her. If I were to look long enough, I could probably see the last fading spots of childhood.

Quickening the pace to the beat of my heart, I ran straight for her, if only for the reason that I was already heading that way. The fawn quickly found that it was alone, and when her mother snorted from a distance, she too raised her white tail and ran for cover. My breath was short and my lungs burned from the cool air, but I kept my pace anyway, my energy renewed. A deer's beauty and grace is something that never fails to excite me.