Deer tag

So this crisp, cool morning, we determined to follow the old stream bed around the north-and-west side of the woods.  It was a little thicker than I remembered getting there, but eventually we crested the ridge and went down.  The bed was a bit muddy, so I was trying to work along the side.  But Scrappy couldn't make up his mind which side he wanted to walk, so eventually into the channel we went.

Just after it turns south, there's a trunk about thigh-high across the bed.  So we turned out to go around it and...

The phone rang.  My one boss at work was cutting something this morning (we run a skeleton crew on Saturday because our biggest customer likes to be a big pain) and the machine wouldn't reset.  We finally found out  that she had leaned on one of the e-stops and didn't know you had to turn the knob in the direction the arrows indicate UNTIL the button popped up.

All's well that ends well, and we worked our way south back to the trail.

One of the features of that part of the woods- a "name" tree.

Cardinals along the back trail.



 

 SDo we cut back in after re-entering the woods, and soon began a game of tag with three deer.

 

 

 

 

 

 Eventually, we all worked our way down to the creek.  Funny thing about creeks.  Animals can cross them fairly gracefully.

This is what Scrappy expects me to cross in new shoes.

Oh, come on, dad!

Eventually I cross both safely and dryly.  By this time, I'm figuring the deer have crossed the thin patch of woods on the south side of the creek and are likely in the yard of the old folks apartments.

Rock under water-just thought it was neat.


 

 So we come up on the south side of the bridge, and no more did we come out... but the deer did too.

 

 

 We started down the ravine trail when they went in that side, but they soon saw us.  They crossed back over to the thin side of the woods.  I was sure this time they'd be going into the apartments' back yard.

 

 

 But once again they fooled me.  Before the woods get thin, it's fairly dense near the creek.  As we worked over towards the outer edge, they came out of the brush about 10 yards away.

 

 

 At that point, we left them alone and took the paved road out of the woods.  A little kids soccer game (or set of games) were going on on the adjoining fields, and we passed a group of little non-soccerista kids playing.  They were all, "Look at the doggie" and other such comments, and I mentioned to Scrappy that they were talking about him.  Just then, their dad pulled his head away from the game and said (and mind you, WE hadn't stopped and WE were several feet away from them), "Leave that dog alone and be quiet."

Now, it may have been a race thing (as they were black), but it doesn't really matter what color you are.  If you feel the need to tell little kids- outside- beside a field full of screaming kids AND adults-
 to be quiet, YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE.  I suggest either you rework your parenting abilities, or give up your "weekend warrior" position and let your ex's boyfriend raise them so they'll have a HAPPY childhood.

Thanks, I feel better now.

When we got back home, there was a party at the bark park.

Scrappy, however left in shame after I yelled at him for the 18th time for humping Bear (the big white dog lying down) and the dozenth time he looked at me like, "What'd I do?"