Well, whistle, actually. Nobody wants to hear me sing.
Here in my home town, where various “progressive” schemes have almost totally erased all vestiges of the natural world, there is still a little-bitty “park” in my neighborhood, up on a hilltop. Calling it a park is a bit much. It’s really some three acres of waste land with a lot of fallen trees.
I went for a walk there yesterday. My elbow is still not healed, and walking is the only form of exercise I can do. I like the steep paths in the little park, so up I went, whistling as I climbed.
Suddenly I saw a deer, watching me. Then I discovered it was four full-grown deer. I was whistling Revive Us Again, and they listened attentively for as long as I kept it up. When I stopped, they melted into the background underbrush as silently as smoke. Now you see them, now you don’t.
I realize that for a lot of you, deer are no big deal, maybe even a daily nuisance. But here in the paved-over heart of New Jersey, I’m always amazed when I see one–let alone four at once. How they eke out a living around here, I can’t imagine: but these looked healthy.
They also knew a fine old hymn when they heard one.