As I was galumphing through a morning run on my nearby trails, imagine my surprise when I was greeted by this:
As documented here, deer definitely have a presence in my suburban neighborhood. Along with our lovely wooded trails, we get a front row seat to witness the majesty of wildlife.
My first thought was to burst into a Leonard Bernstein song, "When you're a deer, you're a deer..." accompanied by some sort of dance fighting. But my second thought was "oh, crap...that's today." I'm smack dab in the middle of a turf war & I don't have a thing to wear--or at least nothing in that very fetching shade of hunter orange.
As if I don't have enough to worry about while I'm running & just trying to remain alive, now I have to stay on the lookout for whizzing arrows & I'm reasonably certain that the deer are wise to man's efforts to thin the heard because I had to dodge an inordinate amount of deer poop right on the trails & sidewalks. Maybe a treadmill wouldn't be so bad after all.
Oh, Officer Krupke...