Deer Flies and Omens
I went for a walk down Mitchell Brook Road tonight, with a full belly of pasta that was smothered in leftover pizza sauce. There was an afternoon thunderstorm today that left everything soggy and humid. The air coated me as I power-walked to Deer Meadow Road and back (that equals two miles). The reasons for power-walking were twofold: first, I wanted exercise. Second, there was a minimum of two deer flies swarming my baseball hat for the entirety of the walk. I strode, slapping my head repeatedly with force enough to kill a deer fly, though I was not ever successful. If you had seen me walking down a road doing this in February, you might have pulled over to check on my welfare. But in the middle of July, in the woods, seeing someone slap their own head is nothing to be concerned about. Heck, seeing someone slap someone else’s head under the same circumstances is no worry either.
This is a dirt road shrouded by forest on either side. It is basically just a very well maintained trail, like so many other roads in this state. 55% of them, to be exact. I’ve been down this particular road many times. With a friend, a group of friends, in a car, on a run. This road has listened to me grieve and celebrate. It’s where I realized I might not be happy. Years later, it’s where I realized I might be very happy.
On this particular walk, I saw one salamander (who would not cross the road despite my prodding her with a stick), one smooshed snake, one grouse, no cars, and one deer. As I turned a bend, she was there standing in the middle of the road, staring, like she had been waiting for me. We spooked each other. After five seconds of staring, she turned and ran off into the trees. When I got close enough, I could see her hoof prints in the road where she pivoted and took flight.
As I continued to walk and slap my head, I spent a long time trying to figure out what her standing there in that road, like an omen, meant. What was she trying to tell me? After many minutes of this, wading through meaningless weeds to discover the Big Answer, I understood that her presence probably meant nothing. She was a deer who lived here and I was a visiting human and we were both on our way to somewhere. Maybe I was her omen. Maybe she was stepping through the trees at this very moment, flicking her ears and tail at the deer flies, trying to understand what message the human was trying to get through to her. What was she trying to tell me?