Sunday, December 12, 2010
You are walking along a path through an amazing and peaceful forest. Thick green moss hangs from the ancient trees while the sun, hidden by a canopy of leaves only peaks through occasionally to light the way. Almost without a sound a young deer emerges on the trail ahead and glances back to acknowledge you. She knows you mean her no harm. A small rustle in the underbrush indicates she is not alone. Silently you stand watching while her fawn, no higher than your knee and still wearing spots, carefully joins her. Together they pause no more than 30 feet in front of you before ambling along slowly, sampling the various plants along the way. They allow you to follow close behind before finally exiting the path a few hundred yards from their entry. As this scene unfolds before you, you are aware of the camera at your side. What would you do?
The scene described is one of a couple I have been blessed with in recent weeks. A memory that will remain with me for a long time, but not captured with a camera. In all such experiences, I can't bring myself to aim a lens due to a feeling inside that in some way the moment is cheapened by the attempt. It is a feeling I have learned recently that I share with more friends than I would have guessed. Your perspective would be greatly appreciated.