My Dear Deer

This dirty, pretty soul was sitting in the neighbor’s yard the other day. My husband mowed the lawn, the dog barked, and the buck didn’t move for over an hour until he casually skipped the back fence, hunching to avoid the trees.

A couple of years ago, a similar looking buck peered into our front window on Christmas morning to the delight of our family and visitors. Every spring since, the neighborhood deer eat my tulips, scratch more bark off of my aspen trees, nap with their babes in my day lilies. Each year, the number of deer in our neighborhood eerily grows. The problem with this picture is that I live in downtown Boulder, Colorado.

Driving to work now, I have this false sense that the neighborhood deer and I have an unutterable understanding. We stare into each others’ eyes. I release my foot from the accelerator. They stomp the curb with their hooves. Someday they’ll prove that me wrong.

Though oddly thrilling, still, to have wildlife so close to home, my discomfort grows daily as the numbers of these misplaced animals do.

-Susy