by matthew coate
i crossed the river first, slowly. maybe because i had been over this way before; i knew it better than the rest of us. maybe that’s just the way it turned out.
heather was right behind me, and then chad, tim, elaine, right behind her. we had come to see just how this stream over in this part of the woods related to the one back near the bridge that we were more familiar with (were they the same river? two different rivers that converged?), and now had to turn back. it was nearing time to leave. still, we went slowly, letting our eyes take in everything, letting our skin breathe the forest in. it was unusually warm for late october, and the sun was strong overhead, but filtered softly through the gold and red canopy hundreds of feet above our heads. this was dysart woods, among the last old-growth left in ohio. i let my eyes focus ahead and center, toward the path. to the left the forest floor sloped upwards rapidly, leveling off, i noticed, about 10 feet up, with ivies clinging to the incline and ferns carpeting the top.
suddenly near the top of the hill something caught my eyes, a quick flash of light behind a line of trees, or was it across the front of their trunks? did anyone see that, i gasped, as quietly as i could. chad responded loudly, what?
and i quieted him quickly with a glance and a gesture. it was a quick flash of light, i whispered... it looked like a spirit, that was my first thought. then, i thought of the shell chad had found, it was in his pocket, buckshot, he had said. of course, hunting was illegal here, but...
was it people, chad said, thinking perhaps the same thing, i don’t know, and i turned from him, again towards the front. i didn’t think it was people. too quiet, it seemed, and too ... benign.
this all took maybe a second, maybe two. as i glanced ahead again, i saw another flash, i swore i did. was it my eyes playing tricks? heather whispered that she saw it too, and we all went completely quiet. then again, another flash, right behind the trees just ahead. this one was obvious, but what was it?
suddenly a deer, leaping through the trees, huge. he looked like an emperor, with antlers like his very own canopy. one bound, two, in plain view, just, maybe, 40 feet ahead? we were hushed liked worshippers, our silence all-embracing.
the deer leaped again, to the hilltop, then again, across the ridge, and once more, over the top and out of sight. he seemed, for all his mass, to barely touch upon the ground. but now he was gone, and we stared ahead, still in silence, and then at each other, in silence. then we all broke the silence at once, gushing, enthralled, happy, with wonder. the rest of our hike back was with new, lighter feet. it was only afterwards that i thought again of the buckshot. the shell was still in chad’s pocket.