A large
buck deer moved furtively through the side north woods, having emerged from the
field across the road, stepping quickly over Grove Street and into the berm
that forms the small stand of forest that separates our house from the next.
I only
knew of its presence, because I had glanced briefly out the front window in the
fireplace room to see if snow was falling, revealed more easily in the amber
street light out by the road. Just then the buck crossed, quickly into the
trees and headed for the lower woods toward the wetland or toward Turkey Hill.
Two
weeks ago, the woods were rather full of hunters, who would have relished the
chance for such a sight. I suspect this buck has lain low since, only now more
comfortable traversing its corridors, as the hunting season has begun to wane.
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