Look, Mildred

 “Look Mildred,” I said as I walked towards the yearling deer who was munching on grass just outside the fence near our garden. Not a deer-proof fence. Just a fence.

I don’t know for sure that her name was Mildred, but it seemed to fit.

“You aren’t supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be in the wilderness someplace, not casing my vegetables.”

Mildred tore up another mouthful of grass, began to chomp on it and seemed to ponder what I was saying.

“It’s nothing personal. Or deer-onal.  I just don’t want you to eat my garden. Okay?”

By this time, I was about a free throw away from her. I looked down for a moment and when I looked up, she was gone. I saw her bounding across the corn field to a well-known hangout across the street where she and a dozen or so of her kind congregate in the evenings. Probably waiting for us to go to bed so they can sneak over to our place again.

To be honest, we have been pretty lucky, considering the number of deer in our area. I use some deer-deterrent spray and granules, but probably not often enough. I resist putting up one of the big anti-deer fences, but I know it’s probably the smart thing to do.

As much as I worry about the deer eating our stuff, I enjoy seeing them walk around in our yard now and then. They’re so beautiful that I hate to be stern with them.  

We’ve had a couple of births within sight of our house, and the babies are way too cute. We can’t wait for them to leave so we don’t feel responsible for them. We worry that something we do will scare them onto the nearby road.

I wonder if Mildred is still thinking about our conversation of last night.

I am an introvert who seeks recognition, but only a little bit. I live in Southern Wisconsin and yes, I do enjoy cheese and a half-dozen or so beers each year. Somehow I found someone willing to marry me back in 1976, and so far so good. We have children and grandchildren and they are all really something.

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