Thursday, June 11, 2009

Pacific Northwest

Yesterday morning, on the way to work, I had to slam on my brakes for a plump pheasant. It strutted across the road, completely oblivious to the threat I imposed. Following behind a small bird scurried along, gazing at me with worried, beady eyes. I'm not good with birds, but it looked like one of those sandpipers you see on the beach, racing ahead of a wave.

In the afternoon, on my way home, I crested a hill and standing in the road, flipping its tail, a doe challanged me. Once again I skidded to a stop. The deer sent me a scornful glare, lifted her chin and plodded off. I idled in the road another minute, waiting for something else to scurry out in her wake, but nothing did. I finally inched forward until I gathered up my courage to speed away.


  1. A pheasant in the road? I never see those. You have a real pastoral commute, yes? I went running yesterday and saw lots of slugs in the road. Not as picturesque.

  2. Too bad. The pheasant would have made a beautiful painting. I saw a crane standing in the field today. And ducks in the yucky pond. They have low expectations.


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