"Deer" Reader:

So there I was, out for a brisk pre-dawn stroll by the waters of the nearly boundless Chesapeake Bay. It was early and entirely still; the only sounds are my bootsteps crunching on rocks and the gentle lapping of waves on the nearby shore. Across the short fence to my immediate right is a narrow spit of ubiquitous marsh grass interposed between myself and the Bay. It's about 20ft wide or so, before dropping down into the salty water. I'm walking alone - a cool breeze and the first hint of sunrise beginning to the east...it’s a decidedly nice beginning to my day. As I'm reflecting on these things I suddenly see a mature doe walking the grassy spit extremely close - she's probably only 10ft away from me. This is only slightly unusual, I've seen deer swim out into the Bay some distance for seemingly no reason at all with their young so what they do really never surprises me anymore. I pause when I've walked abreast of her, mildly amused that she hasn't run yet. She stops as well, having been slowly grazing on the salty grass. We make eye contact. I try to coax her over since she appears relaxed and so close. She demures but maintains eye contact as we both remain still. It's truly a special moment. Then, in an act that finally DOES take me by surprise, she just begins to poop. A lot. A nearly endless stream of rectal commentary yet never breaking eye contact. It's time for me to move along apparently.

The moral, if such a concept can be applied to such a story, is to appreciate what's before you and not to take things too seriously. Finding humor and enjoyment in the little things is quite a reward.

-Ronin