Little heads

It always is rather impossible to get into the head of a wild animal. (Sometimes, you don't want to, like the time that a neighbor's dogs chased a doe out into busy 11th Avenue, where it was hit by a car and cracked the car's windshield before falling to the gutter, legs convulsing. A cop put a .22 caliber rifle shot into her head. No, I didn't want to get into THAT animal's brain. (But my neighbor gal, owner of the dogs, hugged the deer's dead body.The cops had to pull her away,)

This morning, at a little after 5 a.m., I looked outside and saw three mule deer does walking along my front sidewalk, a relaxed walk, until they suddenly stopped and stood totally motionless, big ears aimed like military sonar. I watched, fascinated, as a few moments later a middle-aged woman ran by, far across the daytime-busy street, leashed to a couple of big dogs. The woman and her dogs turned south, away, and disappeared toward the St. Helena Cathedral. The deer resumed their stroll, munched some grass at the 11th Avenue intersection with my street, and somehow decided to part company. One doe headed west. Another strolled toward the east. A third, obviously undecided, dithered for a while. Then it wandered after the eastern voyager. The two disappeared into the darkness across my street.

What were they thinking in their little deer heads? What was I thinking, watching at 5 a.m.? Hey, little heads want to know.