Deer, Oh Deer

Wiley continues to be an interspecies love magnet.

While we were were having a lovely walkies through the woods of one of the Gilded Age Hudson Valley estates near where we live this morning, I spied a young deer about a 100 yards off the trail. I mentioned this to Mr. Kittenheads, who was off-leash, pointing in the direction of said deer. Wiley looked thataways but failed to see Bambi.

Bambi shook his head and stomped his feet as if on cue.

And Wiley took off, running full-speed, hurtling his knockwurst-shaped body at the deer.

The deer stood there and wagged its tail.

At the last moment, when Chuckles MacGillicuddy realized the deer had no intention of running away, he put on the brakes and veered, crashing inelegantly into a stand of overgrowth and tall grasses.

When he emerged, the deer lowered its head and began running toward him.

Wiley looked from me to the deer and back again with incredulity. I'm sure that if he could talk, he'd be saying "no no, I'm the predator, you're the prey!"

He started running toward me, taking a wide circle to avoid the deer, which wasn't being aggressive, just playful. This is all happening, by the way, about half a mile from the spot in the same woods where last year at about this time another young deer developed "special feelings" for my furry sidekick. I don't think it was the same deer, however, because this one was clearly still a juvenile.

The deer stopped running at him when he neared me and instead trailed behind us for a bit, while Wiley studiously ignored it. I, meanwhile, was laughing. Hard. Too hard. I should have been paying more attention to where I was walking, because as I climbed up and over a fallen tree, I slipped and fell right on my hip and elbow... in a pile of deer crap.

This only made me laugh harder (sometimes that's all one can do).

I see the whole outing as karmic retribution for W and I really enjoying that venison tenderloin a couple weeks ago...