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September 7th 2010    Tim Candler

    That devil incarnate the White Tail Deer is not going to get the better of me.   I see them flouncing in the morning and then again in the evening.   They have the long ears, the wide eyes and those lashes that blink.

    It is not innocence or accident that lead them to the Pear Trees, but careful observation of habitat.  They spend more time watching me from the shades than I am aware of.    And sometimes the new plant is a curiosity.  Like me wondering what Lion might taste like.

   Nibbled once is sometimes sufficient.  Nibbled more than once is appetite.   It is the oriental Pear they seem fonder of.  And soon now boy Deer will be choosing which little tree to beat up on.  Some say it has something to do with  antlers,  but I know better.  They are boys.

     Almost a joy to hear the sound of distant gunfire, because it is that time of year when members of my own species prepare for hunting accidents. 

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