The rain was at a temporary truce, fog bound the Western Washington, so the Trusty Triumph rolled out of the garage and turned on to warm up. At nine thirty in the morning I wondered at the number of fools running without headlights, it was thick fog. Interesting trying to gauge where I am in the ride when I can only see the road just around me, makes the journey a bit longer. I seem to be one of three riding a bike to work. Park it 'til evening return trip - what was that point about Daylight Saviings Time? It is so dark so early I have completely forgotten.
My sister mentions walking through the fallen leaves, the fat Maples await the stirring of my feet, and I am always taken back to the mountains of Pennsylvania and their colors for the weekend tourists. Homeboys soak it up while looking for deer. Which reminds me that it is hunting season and I haven't seen one - but as I look into a little valley in the woods, there she is. Looking back at me, pistol range and I am not carrying, So I talk to her about where she is, how she looks and wish her luck. Wondering if the hunters of yester-year would have let her go for another year or a bigger one around the corner, and would they have talked to her - probably.
In the evening as I walk out the gate of the prison and across the road I find another deer waiting for me - must be a sign, this one is feeding on a particular clump of vegetation and ignoring me, but most long legged females do so I am comfortable being a fleeting distraction. Again, we are talking short pistol range - less than twenty-one feet, and silly me, I start talking to her, too. Since the island is a National reserve there isn't any hunting on it, the deer population is large, only the coyotes and bumbling bears make an attempt to thin the population. Maybe I should think about hunting this weekend, enough to find some I could shoot, for me it is the time on the hunt more than the meat, I wonder if I can pick up a cougar instead. I wonder a lot.
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