Surprised, we both stared at each other for one brief moment. I snapped the photo, she turned and fled. I was ecstatic. At last, patience and persistence had paid off. After weeks of visiting the peninsula every day, always hoping to see the deer whose tracks were so evident, our paths crossed–the right time, the right place. It was sweet.
But I’ll confess, just moments before my brief encounter with the deer I had been grumbling under my breath, frustrated with fellow peninsula visitors–joggers, bikers, and other walkers. We are all there for different reasons, but underlying all is a chance to enjoy a brief exposure to nature–though to varying degrees. As I entered the gate I spotted the two young juvenile HCNHs I had photographed earlier. They were on the path just ahead. I was excited to get their photo together again, but as I had entered, so too did a jogger and a bicycle rider. They moved ahead of me quickly and sent the two birds flying.
And so I grumbled to myself. It wasn’t so much the missed photo of the two birds, but I was thinking how my fellow visitors would scare away the wildlife ahead of me, and there would be no photos. It was a classic case of a scarcity mindset–believing there isn’t enough to go around. Wasn’t it ironic that on this day, of all the days, I should encounter the elusive deer?