I LIKE TO WATCH

It's been pouring rain since 3 am. If it was later in the season I'd be dragging the open sighted 12 ga. through the wet woods, trying to sneak up on something. As it is, I'm home taking my eye medicine, banging on the guitar, watching TCM, commenting and posting stupid stuff on fb and staying dry. Since my earliest obsession with TV watching, I guess I've always been an observer. I can sit for hours and people watch in the city. But this ain't the city. Here in the sticks, if you aren't a barfly, you watch the critters. From my window I can see 2 camels, 4 ostriches, 3 donkeys, 2 alpacas, a horse, some cows and a bunch of goats. And that's without even getting off the couch. Except for the ostrich dance, they are all rather boring. I prefer the wild beasts.
    This season has been nothing but watching. Finally on Saturday, out at WSS, two bucks appeared. I had just recently received a pair of binocs in the mail and proceeded to leave them in the car. But even with bare eyes I could see one was a nice buck. When his rack caught the late afternoon light I could see a decent spread. The other one was smaller. They were both doggin' a big doe high in the hay field, about 250yards from my stand. The doe wasn't having it. Every time she moved off the bucks looked at each other and started to fight. It was just sparring. They'd clash horns for 30 seconds, then go back to grazing on the short grass. Too early to get hurt over vying for the attention of a lady. The doe never even raised her head.
   Then a couple of days ago I hung a new stand on the road side of GNJohn's swamp, just below old man Barrett's tin can trailer. I had a good view of Gilkey's field and the swamp, plus the wind was right in my face. Perfect. I was absentmindedly watching a big doe and two fawns feed, when all of the sudden the fawns made a bee-line for mom. I have no idea what they were keying in on- a move? a drop of milk? a tending bleat? In any case they were both under her, on her teats together. She stood still, letting them feed. It was incredible. Any plans I had for shooting mom vanished. Damn!
   Last night the wind swung to the SW and I went back to the orchard stand. It was warm and dry. I've become so used to sitting this stand, I can spot movement up to 400 yards with the naked eye. Now, with my new clear binocs I can confirm and really take in the show. I stood up to check the swamp behind me. When I turned back to the field a group of feeding deer had suddenly run 100 yards closer. I raised my glasses and scanned the field. Something must've pushed those deer. Five minutes later a coyote appeared, half-heartedly loping towards the deer. A spike buck and doe raised their heads while two fawns continued to feed. When the coyote was within 50 yards, the deer predictably bolted (not towards me) into the corner by the old Savage high stand. The coyote stopped and all of the sudden I lost him in the glasses. I thought maybe he'd turned while I was distracted. I caught just the tip of an ear. Then even the ear was gone. This coyote had completely disappeared in a hay field mowed like a golf course.
   The rest of the evening I watched more deer come out. They never knew that coyote was there. Just before dark a second, lighter coyote, appeared on the wood line. This one just trotted across the field, paying no attention to the deer. The deer scattered and the coyote sat like a dog under an apple tree, maybe 100 yards away. He looked up, spotted my white beard in the tree, turned tail and trotted back across the field. The first coyote, who hadn't moved, stood up and joined the light one and both sauntered off into the sunset. Show over.