The Golf Cart Path

His grandparents had moved recently to a cozy new neighborhood. Each roomy house with its own healthy lot, its own set of fresh bricks and its own upper class family to boot. A full golf course sprawled across the surrounding landscape. The developers had of course sagaciously prepared to expand the neighborhood back along those extended fairways.

In the meantime though, he would take his grandparents’ golf cart out in the evenings when it was just dark enough so that the old guys wouldn’t be able to see where their miss-hit balls went. He pulled out each evening pedal to the metal towards the golf course, making the battery-operated vehicle whine. Once on the golf course he’d rarely let up, but as he looked into the woods its hush would inevitably drown out the whine.

About all he’d slow down for were the deer. Without fail they would be out roaming their newly landscaped area. Upon spotting one, or equally as often a familial group, he’d coast to a stop. Always staying on the cart path. Always respecting the pavement and the deer. He rarely ever thought about anything while he observed. Simply monitory without musing was a sufficient sanctuary for him.

One day he was headed back to the houses and scanning the area as was his typical routine. His eyes swept across the individually manicured grass of all of the neighbors. In a spirit of openness, the neighborhood association had chosen black metal fences with narrow pickets each spaced four inches apart to enclose their yards. The transparent palisades offered plenty of visibility, especially on the elevated cart path, and managed to be just narrow enough to keep a small dog in. On this day he also discovered that it was just narrow enough for a deer to get stuck through. He slowly approached the panicked animal from behind. It was young, with several spots still remaining before its full winter coat. A month earlier and the fawn would have slipped through without much trouble. A month or so later, perhaps the young one would have been wise enough not to attempt to go through in the first place. After determining it was a one man job, he took off his gloves for better positioning between the fence and the deer. With a few quick tugs of the shoulders and lower neck he was able to free the entrapped animal. This time as he observed the animal scamper off, he did think. He stood with his feet rooted and mused while he monitored. As he tracked the deer, his eyes narrowed against the brisk wind and he wondered as he watched the deer flee with its found-again freedom.

 

Ramble on,

Sam

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