It was cold, but the snow had stopped, and there wasn’t more forecast. I love the snow. It will only get colder, I reasoned. It was decided. I bundled up and went to a small local forest preserve early Sunday morning.
It sure WAS cold. I’ve gained a little weight since last winter, and my gear was snug over so many layers. I felt like a little kid in last year’s snowsuit.
The snow, a few inches thick and covered with a layer of ice, crunched beneath my Pac boots. Deer runs crisscrossed through the woods. There was a strange smooth trough about four inches wide and a couple of inches deep. I followed it as it became a transparent icy path traversing a fallen tree for a few feet before returning to its channel shape in the snow. This must have been made by something too small to step over the log. I am still curious about its maker.
Chubby little blue birds with rust and white chests silently flittered about. It was so quiet. I moved along the creek, looking at the gray ice. It was a portrait of cold.
I saw movement downstream and stopped, instinctively reaching for my phone. A big doe, chest-deep in the black water, moved slowly toward the opposite bank. I resisted the urge to take a picture and instead wholly absorbed the experience. When the doe got to the other side, she moved partway up the hill and then stopped. She turned to look at me. We both stood motionless for what seemed like a long time. I wondered about her and wondered if she wondered about me. It was a loop in thinking that connected us, at least in my mind.
I thought maybe she was still because she was afraid of me. Maybe she thought I couldn’t see her. Or perhaps it was simply a standoff. If so, I was going to lose. I was not dressed to be motionless in the cold. I took a picture. You can see her halfway up the hill if you look closely. Then she leaped and moved to the top of the steep hill. I wondered why she was alone. When I searched her new location, I saw another deer hidden in the trees and smiled. Maybe her doe fawn daughter, surely another female. I watched the top of the hill and laughed when I saw the silhouettes of many others. I couldn’t count them all. She wasn’t alone.
Suddenly I was aware of the bitter cold. Nose dripping, nailbeds burning, and an experience with a doe lodged deeply in my soul, I followed the human path back to my car.