This is the view outside of my kitchen window. Behind our house lays a tree-covered bluff and a creek that winds through the grassy slopes. Looking southward there are no houses in sight as our nearest neighbor in that direction is several miles away.Tonight as I was doing dishes I spied 11 deer coming up from their hiding places. At first I saw just three, then more and more followed on their trek across the tall grass beyond our backyard. I wanted so badly to capture a picture of them so stepped out the door as quietly as I could. Of course, it didn't work. Heads erect and ears up they spotted me at once, turning tail and dashing off back to where they came from. I could've kicked myself. Not only did I miss a beautiful picture but more importantly, I lost the opportunity to watch them farther as they came out into a world that becomes their own after dusk.
Sometimes it's better to leave the camera alone and simply live the moment.
2 comments:
Gosh, it's hard not to want that picture though. This post reminded me of one time when I was a kid. My family was out in the middle of nowhere--the Wallowa Mountains area, when we heard this rumbling, like an earthquake, coming from the distance. My dad told us to hush and just stand still, and while we watched, this herd of what must have been hundreds of elk ran into view, then past us. It's one of the most amazing things I have ever seen.
A picture would have been great. But it never could have captured the sound, the smell of the dust clouds they kicked up, or the awe of that moment. Amazing.
The moment wasn't lost, just the pictures of it. If you had actually taken the picture it would have been one of those, "it looks like a bunch of deer butts running away!" kind of things. :) Isn't it cool though, that we sort of have film in our brains? That place where we capture actual events and store them for future viewing.
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