Luc and I went to Richmond Park on Saturday and we saw deer, lots of them, munching on the foliage in the soggy sunshade. At one point, the largest, darkest stag pulled a mouthful of wet leaves from a low branch and the sun caught the spray of droplets around his antlers. It was so beautiful. The moment wasn’t captured on camera, but this was shortly afterwards, with a few droplets still visible:
I like the deer because they’re graceful but also very ungainly. One moment they’re gliding between the trees like magical unicorns and throwing meaningful looks over their shoulders at you, and the next moment they’re comically masticating a wad of muddy plant matter and then glaring at you with a face like this:
There was one that stared us down for a long time and then loped awkwardly across the path once we were out of the way. I felt a bit bad. The grass was equally green on both sides so I didn’t really understand its motivations, but who am I to question such an animal? I might not understand what makes one grass clump more appealing than another, but at least I’ve learned one possible interpretation of that stare.
Anyway. I surfaced a little bit this weekend. I’m not out of the ocean yet, but I’ve definitely managed to get my head above the murky waters, at least for now, and the deer at Richmond Park deserve at least some of the credit for that. I’ll be back.