Friday, September 08, 2006
never gonna get over the wonder...
Hi. Big city girl here.
Well, technically I'm more of a suburban girl, as all of the naval housing I grew up in was pretty suburban, as were the suburbs I've lived in since my father retired from the Navy in '81. Thing of it is, I've never lived in any area that was remotely countrified. Even the Pensacola and El Centro Naval Bases, situated as they were across a bay and in the middle of the high desert (respectively), separated from the cities after which they were named by miles of road and bridge, were very suburban in their make-up.
Not a heck of a lot of nominally wild animals in those areas, aside from maybe possums, which seem like they should be purely in the country, but make appearances in cities proper all too often.
So it's probably not surprising that I still wax rhapsodic over the appearance of those deer at JPL, much to the puzzlement of friends whom are not as suburbanfied as myself.
Today I was leaving my building at work and I saw a grouping of seven or so deer on the lawn:
I swung around to get a better picture, not realizing how loud the clacking of my heels on the cement were. At least not until I rounded a corner shielded by a bush and heard a startled rustling.
Up stood a deer, perhaps the equivalent of a pre-teen in years. The eyes were big and wide and stared at me in surprise, holding perfectly still. No doubt hoping the intruder wouldn't notice it if it didn't move. We stared at each other for long milliseconds, my own eyes wide, then I remembered the digital camera in my hand.
I smiled at it, murmurring soothingly, and managed to get a pretty good picture:
I thanked it for holding its pose so well and backed away, not wanting to bother it any further. And walked off to catch my bus.
Well, technically I'm more of a suburban girl, as all of the naval housing I grew up in was pretty suburban, as were the suburbs I've lived in since my father retired from the Navy in '81. Thing of it is, I've never lived in any area that was remotely countrified. Even the Pensacola and El Centro Naval Bases, situated as they were across a bay and in the middle of the high desert (respectively), separated from the cities after which they were named by miles of road and bridge, were very suburban in their make-up.
Not a heck of a lot of nominally wild animals in those areas, aside from maybe possums, which seem like they should be purely in the country, but make appearances in cities proper all too often.
So it's probably not surprising that I still wax rhapsodic over the appearance of those deer at JPL, much to the puzzlement of friends whom are not as suburbanfied as myself.
Today I was leaving my building at work and I saw a grouping of seven or so deer on the lawn:
I swung around to get a better picture, not realizing how loud the clacking of my heels on the cement were. At least not until I rounded a corner shielded by a bush and heard a startled rustling.
Up stood a deer, perhaps the equivalent of a pre-teen in years. The eyes were big and wide and stared at me in surprise, holding perfectly still. No doubt hoping the intruder wouldn't notice it if it didn't move. We stared at each other for long milliseconds, my own eyes wide, then I remembered the digital camera in my hand.
I smiled at it, murmurring soothingly, and managed to get a pretty good picture:
I thanked it for holding its pose so well and backed away, not wanting to bother it any further. And walked off to catch my bus.
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United States, California, Los Angeles, San Fernando Valley, English, Carol, Female, 36-40.
