Deer in the Headlights

    I live in a neighborhood on the side of Read mountain, and across the street are power lines.  To the left of the lines are woods which, if one wants to blaze a path, leads up to the ridge.  Under the power lines is an open piece of land filled with some big rocks, lots of weeds, blackberry bushes, and the perfect resting place for deer.  Add to it the leaves that we conveniently unload there, and the deer have perfect beds for sleeping.   It’s not unusual for a dozen or so deer to run through the neighborhood together.  In fact, there are so many in the area that the neighbors slow down when they drive by, just in case.
    Daily we see families of deer grazing in our yard, and last night around dusk we looked out the window to see a mother and two fawns.  Following cautiously behind strode a six point buck.  Majestic and beautiful, it stood in our yard, then slowly turned and looked right at us.
    We all held our breath and watched, not saying a word lest he be spooked and run for cover.  He stood there confidently and eventually walked away safe in the woods. 

    I remember as a child hearing my parents describe someone’s reaction to something as having a “deer in the headlights” look.  That they were so surprised that they simply stood there trying to process what was happening.
    It wasn’t until I was older that I learned that this really does happen.  Deer are paralyzed when one shines a light in their eyes, which unfortunately can make for a quick kill by cowardly, law breaking hunters who go “spotlighting.” 

    As I watched that buck in our yard last night, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself at the irony.  Nature has given the deer the instinct to freeze when hit with a light, and yet it was my family who was frozen when we saw such a beast in our yard.
    Is it fascination on both sides or an opportunity to look, listen, and learn?  I’m not sure, but I know that in that moment of being frozen, it seems as if our senses are heightened.  I’d imagine it’s the same for the deer.  There’s something that draws us in and makes us stop to assess and maybe even hope for what’s to come.


    We’re in this season of Advent, when we’re watching and waiting.  It’s a time when we stop and assess where we are and who we are, and we hope for what’s to come.  Part of this is wrapped into tradition and spiritual practice, but there is also a part of Advent that is centered on a star...a light.
    That star shone brightly years ago, and it made people stop.  To hold their breath so as to preserve every moment.  It heightened their senses, and they saw what they hoped for, the Messiah.
    That star still shines, and it still makes people stop, hold their breath, and we find our senses heightened.  It brings us hope and insight, and it opens us up to take in the glory of Creation.
    But in order for this to happen, we have to be aware of the light, look for it, then be willing to be frozen in time, drinking it in, that we might be changed because of it.

    When was the last time you were frozen in your tracks?  Share your story in the comments.