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-FROM
THE EDITOR- 11 March, 2004-
DEER CREEK
So I'm standing there in midstream doing what I normally do when I visit a new
river for the first time: getting skunked. I haven't had a bite in two hours and
am starting to think about driving upstream to see exactly where the strychnine
plant is dumping water into the creek. I'm looking upstream, mentally composing
my nasty letter to the Environmental Protection Agency when I see this:
If you don't notice anything, look again, about an inch and a half to the right
of the first rock upstream. At first, I think it's a dog, but as it gets closer
I correctly identify it as a deer, and a very small one. A little-known
corollary to Murphy's Law states that "any time something interesting
happens, you will have neither a camera nor a corroborating witness", but I
guess Murphy's Law has been pretty much used up already on this God-awful
fishing trip. I immediately grab my camera and snap the picture above, and
calculate that this tiny deer is going to pass about 15 feet away from me.
"This is going to win me Reuter's Photograph of the Year", I think to
myself, and get ready to snap off another photograph of the struggling fawn,
mentally pondering titles: "The Cruelty of Nature" or "Deer Lord,
I Wish I Could Swim". Suddenly the
thought hits me: "This deer may very well die if I just stand here and take
pictures". As you can tell, the water in this stream is moving pretty
quickly, and the water is generally about waist deep in most spots, probably too
deep for the young animal to gain secure footing. Perhaps the deer's feet are
tangled in some fishing line. I make a snap decision to help the deer, I lower
the camera and begin wading frantically toward the point where the deer and
myself ought to meet if we both maintain our current rates of speed.
Proving that no good deed goes unpunished, I immediately slip and fall into the
frigid water in my rushed attempt to play "Bambi Baywatch". For a
panicked second, I hope against hope that this deer has received training in
water rescue. In less than one wet, cold, flailing second I regain my footing
and look back upstream for the fawn. There it is, standing about knee deep on a
rocky shoal. I swear the deer is laughing it's ass off at me. I curse at the
deer. Loudly. I realize that my camera and
fishing rod are no longer in my possession, but luckily I had the sense to fling
them both upstream before I went under. As I gather my belongings, this intrepid
little animal is still standing there, obviously amazed at the incredible sights
one can witness during a day's swim on the river. By this time, I am wondering
what the fine is for strangling a deer out of season. Trying to regroup and get
all my gear reorganized, I realize the only safe place to stand is already taken
by the deer, so I head for the shoal and the deer, wondering if I know any good
recipes for veal venison. Apparently realizing that the White Man will either
kill him, take his land, introduce him to fire water or try and convert him to
Christianity, the deer flees. I snap a few more pictures. Judge for yourself
whether this deer was actually in mortal danger or just out for an afternoon
swim: 
Judging from the wake my little friend is cutting across some of the fastest
water in the stream, I doubt he was ever in any danger whatsoever. Check out the
white spots. This little fellow is just a couple months old and obviously swims
and wades a lot better than Yours Truly.
Had I just stayed still and snapped pictures, I would've gotten some really
great shots. As it is, I got some decent pictures and a cold bath. How was the
fishing? To the best of my knowledge, that deer is the only living thing ever to
swim in that creek. Hope he doesn't drink the water.
Sincerely,
Sam
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