while driving in northern berkeley, on the way to
black oak books for a fix, i saw a family of deer on the sidewalk, right there amongst the houses on gilman street. we stared, they stared back, their expressions a bit nervous; but here in daylight and safely on the sidewalk, they were nowhere near the wide eyes of a headlight encounter. they fairly sauntered along (but springily, in that way deer have and humans don't) and inspired me to say foolish things like "but, those were deer!" for a few minutes.
my eagle scout of a partner, eager to avoid any bambi-inspired fears in my mind, assured me pre-emptively that the deer would be just fine, and indeed they did seem to have a good idea of where they were headed. no panicked creatures these, they were more like the gang of thieves who had just eaten all the most tender tomato shoots from that place down the way where they could never get in at night. now they were making their exit, saying to each other slyly out of the sides of their mouths, "remember, just look like you belong here and no one will bother you."
and it was working!
people just kept driving, looking at them, maybe murmuring "but those are deer!" to themselves, but doing nothing, since they seemed to have their situation under control in some undefinable way.
surreal.