The moon hangs low and large in the sky this evening, a faded shade of deep yellow. It is the only thing shining through the black of the cold Wisconsin night. Inside, however, the house is brightly lit -- football on the television, Christmas cookies stacked on plates all over the kitchen countertops, and my daughter on her computer. I had dinner ready on time, but Anne and I were still too full of cookies to eat. We decided it would be a good time to run down to Walgreens to pick up the photo order she had placed a few hours earlier.
As we pulled back into the driveway after picking up the photos, Anne spotted a deer.
"Where?" I asked, trying to remain as motionless as possible as I craned my neck and squinted from the driver's seat.
Anne lifted her chin forward, "Right over there in Skip's back yard -- where they always are."
I still could not see it so I flipped on my bright lights. Sure enough -- there she was. Lying on the ground, alert with perked ears in the direction of my car, a doe's dark eyes glinted with the light from my headlights. I nodded acknowlegement as I saw her, then reached over to open my door.
Her natural curiosity piqued by her own answer to my question, Anne stopped me with a question, "Why do you suppose they always go to that same spot near Skip's yard?"
She is right. Year after year, when deer come to sleep in my parents' back yard, they always seem to gravitate to pretty much the same place. It makes sense that they are attracted to the trees and bushes, but that is not the answer I gave to Anne.
"I don't know," I responded.
Prompting her to think for herself, I offered the ridiculous, "Maybe Skip planted some deer-nip."
Anne was silent. She did not seem to have registered my remark.
"Deer-nip?" I tested. "Kind of like catnip... but for deer?"
17 year-old Anne's brow furrowed. Her eyes locked on mine, "Why would he do that? To keep the deer in just one part of his yard??"
Tonight, I got a good chuckle and Anne learned that there is no such thing as "deer-nip."
As we pulled back into the driveway after picking up the photos, Anne spotted a deer.
"Where?" I asked, trying to remain as motionless as possible as I craned my neck and squinted from the driver's seat.
Anne lifted her chin forward, "Right over there in Skip's back yard -- where they always are."
Her natural curiosity piqued by her own answer to my question, Anne stopped me with a question, "Why do you suppose they always go to that same spot near Skip's yard?"
She is right. Year after year, when deer come to sleep in my parents' back yard, they always seem to gravitate to pretty much the same place. It makes sense that they are attracted to the trees and bushes, but that is not the answer I gave to Anne.
"I don't know," I responded.
Prompting her to think for herself, I offered the ridiculous, "Maybe Skip planted some deer-nip."
Anne was silent. She did not seem to have registered my remark.
"Deer-nip?" I tested. "Kind of like catnip... but for deer?"
17 year-old Anne's brow furrowed. Her eyes locked on mine, "Why would he do that? To keep the deer in just one part of his yard??"
Tonight, I got a good chuckle and Anne learned that there is no such thing as "deer-nip."
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