Deer in Headlights or Skids on the Highway

Deer Trapped in the Headlights: or Skids on the HighwayDeer in the headlights. They never freeze. They run. All is fine. The grass tastes good. The company fine. Six or seven nibbling on roadside waste weeds and grass. In the distance a glow raises on the horizon. As it gets closer the intensity grows. Five tons of steel encroaches on them at speeds over fifty miles an hour. Over their head stands a sign, needless if it does them any good. Or the driver.

A sign depicting a deer doing ballet. Standing on its hind leges with its fore paws in the air. Regal antlers set high above its brow. But it means nothing to these deer. One might of tried nibbling on it and broke a tooth. In the winter they will eat anything. Ask any home owner in the Pines who has lost collection of plastic flowers and the right leg of a Santa lawn sculpture left out throughout the easter season. But otherwise, neither deer or driver will acknowledge it.

On the driver’s part. Mostly these signs are placed where deer are no longer grazing. So the drive no longer gazes at them. But this time it is correct and in cycle. A cycle of five years duration of crop rotation set up by the department of the interior of rutting bucks.

Impact imminent. Monster truck with KC lights and worn down tread on mudhoggers. Only teenagers buy these tires made for the mud that wear down on pavement. Just to keep mud on them one weekend in between 40 hour commutes to work and back up route 70.

Now this is the time that the alpha buck looks up with a malicious grin. Remembering the afternoon before. His rear hips getting stiff and the younger buck getting uppity. Rutting season is here once more and this buck does not share well. He sets in motion. He has time.

The young buck is caught off guard.

Truck pulling in.

The older Stag is across with does following safely behind.

But the young one looks up and sees the lights bearing.

In some distant cosmic laboratory on the third or fourth day of creation. Between creating man that was ok and creating light that was good. For unknown and perverse reasons god crossed a deer with a cat. Now cats have that urge that prompts them to wake from a dead sleep to run to a vacant room at unrivaled speeds and hope they find no linoleum upon their sojourn.

For in this occasion, light will not be good. But it will be the trigger for our young buck to stimulate that recessive gene from its primal cat ancestor. It does not know why. But it knows with a sudden urgency that he needs to be on the other side of the street.

The others did it.

So now this deer. Will not run, scoot, or hurry across the road. Being that the cat gene is to distant within its coding. He will slow trot.

Truck hits the high beams and slams on its brakes. The young buck can be seen under slow motion replay to have actually sped up its pace by one sixteenth of an instance to its previous speed. Just under the distinction between sprinters and speed skaters in the olympics who receive gold or silver. Besides that these people are reaching speeds much faster than the object of our story. Some Buddhist would reply that I should be corrected and say our subject instead. Which I would apologize for and stand corrected.

Which you get for being poor and not affording an editor. Your mistakes stay within and you are left to astral messengers from distant Sicim Monasteries.

Our young stag makes it and our driver curses and accelerates and goes on off to bed after a long days commute.

The older buck will just have to pipe up about his hip for tomorrow he will have to but heads with the youngin.

All is fair in love and war on the skids of the highway.