Last summer, while in Luce County, I hiked from an old logging road down to the mouth of the Sucker River on Lake Superior, and back again.
It is rare to run into anyone else in this area but when I returned to my Jeep I heard a rustle of branches in the woods and suddenly, the most beautiful doe I had ever seen, appeared in a small clearing about 100 feet from me. Her eyes were as fixated on me as intensely as mine were on hers.
We stared at each other for a few minutes before I began my slow, bumpy drive through sugar sand and rough terrain back to the main road. About a quarter of a mile away on the two-track, she appeared again in a small clearing. I paused, trying to get a closer look at her.
I pursued and she withdrew.
She pursued and I withdrew.
When I saw her for the third time, it was clear that she was following me, but this time she let me catch her. She was standing in a clearing about 20 feet away when we admired each for the last time, but not before I got my camera out and took a few pictures.
This is a true story. And I don’t mean to spoil it with this semi-humorous downer analogy. In fact, I was going to button this post up with a warm and fuzzy ending when this occurred to me:
Women are like deer.
They let you admire them, but once you get close, they bolt on you.
Ladies; don't be does in 2020.
Goodnight, that is all.