Nuremburg, Germany, 2012.
It is late July and I am on a European river cruise with two friends. I like cruises but hate the
boring tour guides, so I usually go off on my own whenever I'm visiting some place new. Today at 6 AM I carefully make my way down the gang-plank and begin walking along the canal which links Neuremburg to the Main and Danube Rivers.
Although there is only the ocasional cyclist at this early hour, I skip the bike path and opt for one of the dirt paths which radiate away from the bike lanes. I take one of them and meander toward a forest, lush and still, mostly dark, though the tall evergreens are letting in some light alread. Scrub brush grows up along the path and areas of sparce green grass are becoming almost meadows, spaced among the groves of trees.
On my left, just ten minutes into my walk I see a figure standing still in a field maybe seventy feet from me. It's a lone deer,smaller than our white-tailed species, hiding from me right out in the open. She is sure that I won't notice her. (I decide it's a "she" simply because this deer has no antlers. I actually hope she's a she.) Her long ears are erect and turned in my direction and her fur appears to be dark grey with the morning light just touching her head and haunches. Her large eyes are glistening and steady as they regard me.
The deer is a microcosm for me. I look at her for who she is and she looks at me for who I am.
In that mystery, I find God. Why can't He come to me in the glance of a deer? Or, surprise me with a song of a red-bird in mid-winter or a wild orchid in the shadow of a sycamore tree in April?
We look at one another for some minutes. No one else is around. It's very quiet. I make a move to continue down the dirt path and instantly the deer bounds once, twice and enters the darkness of the thick forest.
This is why I go places, often by myself. This European deer is a new species for me, the Western Roe Deer (Capreolus capreolus). Wild deer still survive here in Bavaria after industrialization, two world wars and habitat destruction.
The guide this morning will miss seeing this deer and so will the rest of the passangers. Maybe they wouldn't care to experience a wild deer in a Bavarian Forest.
If I do not see anything else on this journey that is new, I will remember this morning, and this deer outside of Neuremberg Germanyon a hot summer morning in July.
It is late July and I am on a European river cruise with two friends. I like cruises but hate the
boring tour guides, so I usually go off on my own whenever I'm visiting some place new. Today at 6 AM I carefully make my way down the gang-plank and begin walking along the canal which links Neuremburg to the Main and Danube Rivers.
Although there is only the ocasional cyclist at this early hour, I skip the bike path and opt for one of the dirt paths which radiate away from the bike lanes. I take one of them and meander toward a forest, lush and still, mostly dark, though the tall evergreens are letting in some light alread. Scrub brush grows up along the path and areas of sparce green grass are becoming almost meadows, spaced among the groves of trees.
On my left, just ten minutes into my walk I see a figure standing still in a field maybe seventy feet from me. It's a lone deer,smaller than our white-tailed species, hiding from me right out in the open. She is sure that I won't notice her. (I decide it's a "she" simply because this deer has no antlers. I actually hope she's a she.) Her long ears are erect and turned in my direction and her fur appears to be dark grey with the morning light just touching her head and haunches. Her large eyes are glistening and steady as they regard me.
The deer is a microcosm for me. I look at her for who she is and she looks at me for who I am.
In that mystery, I find God. Why can't He come to me in the glance of a deer? Or, surprise me with a song of a red-bird in mid-winter or a wild orchid in the shadow of a sycamore tree in April?
We look at one another for some minutes. No one else is around. It's very quiet. I make a move to continue down the dirt path and instantly the deer bounds once, twice and enters the darkness of the thick forest.
This is why I go places, often by myself. This European deer is a new species for me, the Western Roe Deer (Capreolus capreolus). Wild deer still survive here in Bavaria after industrialization, two world wars and habitat destruction.
The guide this morning will miss seeing this deer and so will the rest of the passangers. Maybe they wouldn't care to experience a wild deer in a Bavarian Forest.
If I do not see anything else on this journey that is new, I will remember this morning, and this deer outside of Neuremberg Germanyon a hot summer morning in July.
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