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crossing guard I was coming from my previous entry, when I saw her standing alongside the street. A doe. Now, this is no great surprise. The deer cross this part of the main drag through town all the time. It is apparently the perfect avenue from the weedy fields along the railroad tracks into the fields between the auto junkyard and the county fairgrounds. The wife watched a fawn try to cross here last winter. And not make it. Now, this doe has probably crossed this street more times than I have driven it. She's probably an old hand at it. But this was the end of the lunch rush hour. And as I watched, having circled back through the carlot, she turned back from heavy traffic several times. It occurred to me, "If you stay here, you're probably going to get to watch her die." I didn't like that. And then I noticed the turning lane. The middle lane of this five-lane street, which has no traffic other than vehicles making a turn to one side or the other. And dashed across traffic into it. And parked. With my emergency lights flashing. And traffic slowed. One lady even stopped. And as if she were expecting it, the doe politely and safely trotted across the road in front of me. And went on with her day. As did I. |
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