Nearly twice in one day. Whatever will you do?
I went to go see Kingsman: The Secret Service tonight. I enjoyed it! However, I had thought for the briefest of moments that perhaps my 11-year-old would enjoy it. And that’s a giant NO. Not even remotely appropriate, and I was bombarded with horror movie previews. But the characters were fun, it wasn’t your usual spy movie (but it had enough of what I usually enjoy to be entertaining), and Colin Firth. Yes.
On my way home, I drove and was inspired to write. That happens after movies, I don’t know why. It’s a small percent of why I go see movies, although it does come in last (popcorn, movie, inspiration, in that order). I turned off the radio about halfway home, and occasionally remembered to watch for animals. (Spotting a wild animal trying to cross the road at the same time I’m trying to drive on it is not uncommon.) When I passed the gas station and got ready to cross the small bridge that separates the Borough from the Township, I was not surprised to see a small deer (doe? young buck? unknown).
Deer are definitely flight animals. There’s really no fight in them. So when faced with the blinding shiny things that probably are associated with “crunch”, “squeal”, and “splat” for the poor animal, she did what deer do.
(And I had no idea how much fun it is to use that word correctly!)
The deer was on the bridge. Not next to it, on it. Not exactly the center, but close enough that she didn’t think to run around the edge and down the slope.
She jumped off the bridge.
It was very, very graceful. She didn’t rush (and I had slowed down to nearly a stop, so she didn’t have to), she just looked at me, looked at the cement barrier that was just about head high for her, took a step or two, and leapt. It would have been gorgeous, had her backside not proceeded to rotate as she fell out of sight.
I laughed. What the hell? But then I worried. It’s damn cold out, and there wasn’t a nice little pool of water with some muddy soil beneath to break her fall. (How in the world could she have landed safely? She was somersaulting her way through the air, the last I saw!) My mind immediately jumped to the scenario where I call 911 and ask them to send an officer to put the animal out of its misery because it’s laying there, bleating plaintively, bleeding from a broken leg and a cracked skull.
(I do get carried away.)
So I pulled into my alley, and pulled right back out of my alley. My car was warm, and I could pull around in the gas station and come back to the other side of the bridge. Maybe the deer wouldn’t even be there? Maybe there would be so much traffic at 12:45 a.m. that getting out of my car to check would just be unrealistic.
There was neither. I got turned around in the right direction again, pulled the car out, and like an idiot, got out to peer over the edge of the bridge to see if there was a lump of venison on the ice. There was not! There was a dizzy, disoriented deer plodding across the ice toward the bank, not really ready to start dashing through the underbrush, but close.
“Are you okay?”
Yes. I asked the deer if it was okay. It flicked its ear at me, and ignored me. Pretty much normal deer behavior, I assume. There was a big dark area where the deer had presumably “landed” and then lay dazed for a moment before attempting to get up and the heck out of dodge. I thought about taking a picture, but A) dark, and B) with my luck I would have dropped the thing over the bridge, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been as lucky as the deer. So I walked back to my car, and heard the sound of a freaked out deer running home somewhere warm.
Which is exactly what I did, too.