The Doe and the Dragon

As we rounded a curve in the lightly wooded southern Illinois countryside I caught a glimpse of her ahead and to my left bounding past someone’s house. Her tail was down, so she was not alarmed as she moved through the cluster of semi rural residences.  She appeared to be on a diagonal course that would intersect the road at about a place and time seeming to match our own scheduled arrival.  I dropped a gear and set the pipes to singing.  I dropped my left hand signaling my riding partner to remain behind me.

She turned her head slightly at the sound of our approach, but continued her carefree trot toward our inevitable meeting until she stood abruptly on the far side of a shallow ditch that lined the left edge of the asphalt.  Again she turned her head toward me.  Her tail was yet down.  She showed no sign of fear or undue concern.  By now I was almost at a standstill and our eyes met.  There were no words that passed between us, but the communication was quite clear.

“After you, sir.”

“Oh, no.  After you, Ma’am.”

“I insist.  You first.”

“I do not trust you, dear, any further than I could throw you.”

“That’s meaningful.  It doesn’t appear that you could throw me at all.  In fact, I observe you haven’t the slightest hint of velvet upon your brow. Oh, but the Dragon, her I would wisely avoid.”

“However you see it, Ma’am, I will not proceed until you yourself are across or away.”

“As you wish.”

She seemed to almost tumble to her left into a relaxed gait along the edge of the ditch and then suddenly, with a leap, broke to her right and, lifting her white signal and touching the asphalt only twice, she stood safely upon the other side.  There she paused once more having placed several feet and a handful of small trunked oaks between herself and the road.  She looked back over her shoulder to watch us pass with her tail still held high.

I gave her a nod of farewell as we eased on past and wondered at the mystery of nature.  How complex is this world in which we live that wraps in a single package such grace and beauty; such danger; such innocence; and yet such evil.  That death and life are so tightly bound is, no doubt, a secret of why we acknowledge the beauty of so much that is gathered around us.

Be safe, primitive lady of the woods.  This day I wish you well.


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