Sunday, June 23, 2013


Deer have a particular way of walking, as if they had just shined their hoofs and didn't want to get them dirty. Or maybe as if they had wooden blocks glued on the bottom and they were kinda tippy. Gangly I guess you'd call it... 

Then there're those long stick tails, wagging away, like flagmen directing traffic at a really busy intersection. The bugs must drive them nutty.

The doe and those two yearlings just came down across the horse pasture and stood in the driveway for a bit, then wandered around in that funny-walking way they have.

I like to watch them. Despite the ticks...

**I know the plural of deer is not deers, but calling them so is a family failing.....


Cathy said...

OK. I'm checking the date today to make sure it's not April 1. And then I'm thinking Ohhhhh Lordy . . one of those tick bite infections got to her brain then I relaxed, went with the flow - and cracked up :)

threecollie said...

Cathy, sometimes I just can't resist that shark. he is just so jumpable. And sometimes I forget my meds. JK lol

Cathy said...

Ahahahaha! One of my favorite lines concerning "Happy Days."

Cathy said...

Amazing. I hadn't thought of this poem in years.
Your whimsy booted it back into memory.
I think I wrote it waaay back in the mid-90's or even earlier.

Appropriately - it's title is:

"Feeding the Livestock."

Ten hungry critters
waiting for their feed
are kicking up dust motes
and whinnying for more seed.

Ten pair of legs
jockey for a perch.
I hear the clomp of feathers
and know I ‘m being watched.

They reckon that I’m coming,
as any rancher might,
with something good in my pockets
tucked out of sight.

Some feign indifference,
but their muffled little shoves
betray the twiggy little hooves
shuffling up above.

Soon, the fluttering at the tray
is all the thanks I need
as I find their dulcet morning song
well worth the price of seed.


threecollie said...

Cathy, I do love the poetry you find!