Deer chase

Right away I knew something was wrong.

Larsen went to the right and then to the left of the boardwalk that led from the condo to the beach.  He was tracking deer, and I knew that I was not in his mind in the least.  I hit the whistle once, but that only confirmed what was obvious to both of us.

The dog disappeared deep within the tangled laurel.  I walked to the end of the boardwalk and looked west in time to see a whitetail spring from the dune and onto the beach, heading east and straight toward the boardwalk.

If I'd been a smarter cowboy, I could have swung onto the back of that deer as it thundered by and rode that critter out of town three steps ahead of the posse.  Hot behind the deer came that stupid dog, busting out of the sedge and sea oats and  stretched flat out belly to the ground, eyes crazed with a jackpot-gleam of excitement, joy, and greed.  I jumped in front of Larsen and yelled at him to stop in a most insipid attempt to end the chase.

The deer turned from the beach into the dunes, with the dog behind him, keening.  Both broke into the sea oats and deeper into the spear-like spanish bayonett, weeping yucca, and the laurel where it is always dark even on a sunny day.

Running behind the two was a foolish exercise, though I did it anyway.  How could I catch those animals?  I could follow their tracks only by carefully picking my way through the undergrowth that they had burst through and during that time deer and dog could run the length of the island.  I found my way to a couple of vantage points but of course saw nothing.  I walked toward the condo to get some rain pants, figuring I was in for a day of island combing in the now-driving rain.

On my way I saw at the end of that trail, on the road, the deer.  Standing still and  with its head lowered.  I whistled.  Not for the deer, but figuring that the dog could not be far behind.  That was true!  Larsen came trotting up from the road and onto the pathway, sides heaving and tongue dragging.