You say you're afraid of WHAT?!

So, I may or may not have a completely irrational fear.

OK. Full disclosure? It's completely, 100%, unapologetically irrational.

You see, I'm afraid of deer. Specifically, of being hooved to death by a rabid deer.

I know, right? 

I know that the chances of that happening are so slim that they're almost non-existent. The key word here is "almost". Probably deer don't even have rabies. Whatevs. It is what it is.

And the sad thing is, I have no reason for this. Like I said - totally irrational. I will, however, freely admit this in a pretty self deprecating way, laughing freely at myself because I know just how stupid it is.

I don't relay this information expecting one to nod and say something like, 'Well, now that you mention it, yes, I do see why one would confuse Bambi with the demonic spawn of the forest.' 

I will say that I absolutely do not need one to not only ignore my fear, irrational as it may be, but also to ADD to the fucking beast.

Eight or so years ago, Mick and I found pretty much our dream home. A cabin in the middle of the woods, on a little bit of land. We have gorgeous views of prominent peaks, with mountain foliage ablaze of neon green and conifer-ish colors, when our Rocky Mountain version of Mother Nature decides to play along with the rules. Even better, we were less than a mile from Target. Everyone wins.

At that time, Sis was just about to start Kindergarten, and was about the size of a pixie. The boy child just going into 4th grade, and even though he was tall for his age, he wasn't big by any means. And, since I'm neurotic anyway, it's not like I was going to be letting these kiddos out of my sight when they went to play outside. After all, it's not like we were in a neighborhood any longer. 

We met our new neighbors shortly after moving in. They came down the hill bearing a plant for our garden. Bwahahaha! First mistake. The poor dear thought I could grow something. Half the reason we live on a woodland enclave was so I could avoid gardening, since I tend more towards a black thumb than anything. But I digress.

They were a sweet, older couple. Gina and John. Well, they were sweet until we started chatting. 

I jokingly referred to the dreaded deer problem, sure to include that as Colorado girl, born and bred, I could still appreciate the beauty if wildlife and honor the fact that we've developed land that encroaches on their territory, and yada yada. Just because I can appreciate nature's abundance, certainly does not mean I don't have some deep down, innate fear of the things.

"Oh dear," Gina assured me with a smile and her thick mid-west accent, "you're just going to love it here. You see that bed of flat grass right off your porch? Well, that's where a whole herd of them bed down at night."

Delightful. Sigh.

"And the deer are just the start," she continued. "Why, we have bears down here all the time. They'll come right on up on your porch and just peek on through your windows. Ya know, if you garden with fish oil they'll come right up behind you and sniff your ear. Heck - John and I even feed them."

Call me crazy but I'm pretty sure that's illegal, lady.

"We see foxes and rabbits and chipmunks, all sorts of God's creatures, all the time. There's even a mama mountain lion up on the ridge there who'll come down and prowl on the BLM land right behind us on occasion." 

Fan-fucking-tastic. By this time, I swear I'm a little light headed, as I see my tiny sprite of a daughter playing in the shade from the corner of my eye.

"Oh, and one time, me and John were playing with a squeaky toy with our dog Spike when wouldn't you know it, a coyote jumped right out from our bushes thinking it was a baby rabbit. Gosh, I wish I had a camera. It was magnificent."

Well, shit.

Thanks for turning my completely irrational fear of rabid deer into an actual fucking, totally legit fear of carnivorous creatures roaming the forest that surrounds my house. Really - I feel just great about that. The fact that I was hyperventilating at this point didn't seem to phase my new neighbor.

Somehow in my ridiculous admission, Gina must have heard that I LOVE me some wildlife, not that I don't really super love them unless they're far away and/or I'm behind some sort of barrier.

This could be a lesson in actually listening to hear what someone is saying, folks.

Needless to say, now, almost a decade later my kids are still not allowed in my yard alone. And maybe, a large part of the reason why we have dogs may or may not be due to wanting the big and scary animals go after them first have them warn us if danger approaches.

As for deer, well. I continue to have a love-hate relationship with them.

Yes, they are beautiful. Generally, I know that they are harmless.

The last few years, we've had a buck and two does claim our yard as home base. We often find them nibbling at the edge of grass along our twisted driveway, or bedded down in the middle of our yard. There is really nothing more spectacular than seeing these gorgeous creatures bed down, with the sun shining through their huge ears, and the foliage glow gorgeously and surreally around them. 

But that buck think's he's the shit. I'll step on my porch to grill dinner, and there he'll be, pleased as punch, munching down on what passes as a "natural" garden (i.e. whatever the hell decided to grow with no help nor hinderance from me), mere feet away. The bastard doesn't even flinch any more. He just continues his business like it's no big deal.

This is a real pic of a real deer that I took in my real yard. If you can't tell, he's really an asshole.

Don't think I'm not watching you, buddy.