I’m going to try something new here. And by new, I mean bring back something old. I’ve mentioned before that this isn’t my first rodeo—I used to have a blog that I shut down. Welp, I’ve found some of my old posts and thought it would be fun to bring them back to life here! With just a few small edits, I present to you The Trail of Fear, first published in September 2012. Hope you enjoy!
I used to think I loved nature – until nature made it very clear the feeling was not mutual. Well, I enjoyed the sunshine (if it wasn’t too hot), the breeze (if it wasn’t too strong), and the quiet (if it wasn’t TOO quiet…because we all know that’s when the boogeyman or Bigfoot is about to make an appearance). My friends and family have spent a lot of time laughing at me as I have run screaming from bees, swum screaming to the dock (something touched my leg, I swear), and done screaming jiggity-jigs trying to smack off spiders and other creepy crawlies that came from the woods. It took me a while to figure it out, but I finally decided I only loved nature from afar. I love that it’s there—I just don’t want to be in it.
Fast-forward to my friend Vera and her love of walking trails. Our community has a vast array of preserved, nature-y areas throughout the city where anyone can go from the parking lot to the middle of oh-my-god-are-we-lost in just a matter of minutes. Vera and I had started walking together one spring a few years ago, and she really wanted me to go with her to this trail because it had a killer hill that is a great butt workout. I was skeptical at first, but once we got out there, it was really nice! Look at me—I’m a nature lover! Well, not as nature-lovery as the avid bird watchers, or the people who walk with ski poles, or the people who carry HUGE backpacks like they’re on a three-week hike through Yellowstone. Nonetheless, I was in nature, and I loved it! I looked forward to our weekly walks and was actually a little sad on the days the weather was bad and we couldn’t go.
Well, I loved it until the day our lil walking trail turned into a horror show.
Vera and I had upped our walks into jogs, and we were about a mile and a half deep into the trail, at the top of a hill, when we came around a sharp turn—and there it was.
The deer.
Standing in the middle of the trail.
We stopped cold, and I got a really bad feeling. I had heard about deer during the rut. I had always laughed when I heard someone had been killed in a deer attack because I didn’t believe it. For those of you not versed in the world of hunting, the rut is when the boy deer (buck) try to get busy with the girl deer (doe). The buck tries to gather as many does as he can (sort of like a deer harem), and then he gets all mean and fighty with any bucks who try to hone in on his territory. Love does crazy things to everyone—including bucks, who have been known to attack people, dogs, and anything else they may see as a threat.
And there we were.
Two threats in jogging suits, standing in the middle of the path, staring him down.
I did a quick mental calculation and realized that we were deep in the woods, in the middle of the rut—standing face-to-face with a would-be killer.
“OMG,” I whispered. “It’s going to try to kill us.”
Vera looked at me, her brows all wrinkled, with an expression like I’d finally lost it.
“Seriously,” I said. “Get behind a tree. Or up in a tree.”
She gave me a look like she was playing along for my mental health while I went ape-shit crazy and tried to climb the closest tree—which, of course, was covered in thorny vines. I was getting scratched and poked, and I couldn’t get up the tree.
The killer deer was going to pound us into pulverized people-meat if we didn’t GET OUT of there. Vera still didn’t see the danger and was just humoring me at this point.
We slowly walked backward until we rounded the bend and couldn’t see it anymore. Then we turned and ran, listening for the sounds of impending hoofbeats. After we’d gone a ways, we slowed down to catch our breath, and I explained our situation to her.
We felt lucky to be alive.
And then it happened again.
In the darkening woods, another deer appeared in our path, blocking our way. This time Vera was scairt for realz.
“Holy shit, what do we do?!” she whisper-screamed at me from behind the smallest tree I’d ever seen.
And then it dawned on me…I had my phone. I had outdoorsmen on speed dial.
We were saved.
I called my now ex-husband.
“Hey,” I panted into the phone, “Vera and I are trapped in the woods on butt hill, and we’re cornered by a wild-eyed buck! We are scared—what do we do?”
Complete silence.
“Hello? Are we supposed to be noisy or quiet? Do we look at it or not look at it? Do we move or stay still? Tell us what to do so he won’t attack!”
Pant, pant.
“How big is it?” he asked.
“It’s pretty big,” I said. “We are hiding behind trees, it’s getting dark, and the deer isn’t moving. What do we do?”
I was getting a little hysterical at this point.
“Well, tell me how big it is,” he said.
“BIG,” I said. “With antlers and everything.”
Again with the “how big” question.
“BIG!” I didn’t have time to play 20 questions—I just wanted some answers.
“Is it bigger than the one I shot last weekend?” he asked.
“IF IT WAS ANY F*CKING BIGGER, I COULD RIDE IT OUT OF HERE LIKE A HORSE!” I screamed, and then hung up the phone.
So much for quiet. I hoped I hadn’t made things worse.
I looked over at Vera and shrugged.
She was practically crying.
I know—our boss, Ted, is a hunter! We can call him!
He answered, and I told him our predicament.
Again, complete silence.
Then he started laughing.
Not just ha-ha laughing, but huge, rolling belly laughs. He couldn’t get ahold of himself.
I rolled my eyes, snapped off a six-foot, pole-like branch sticking up out of the ground, and handed it to Vera.
“Here. Take this. We can use it as a weapon if we need to.”
Ted managed to squeak out enough words to tell us that we were fine, that deer don’t like loud noises, and they won’t bother us if we don’t bother them.
Vera and I started jogging again. She was holding the stick like she was preparing to pole-vault.
Ted’s laughing had died down, and he was sniffing like he’d been cry-laughing.
“First of all,” he said, “you told me you were deep in the woods. You are on a WALKING TRAIL in the MIDDLE OF THE CITY. Secondly, you’ve been fed a pile of crap. Just talk loudly, like you always do, and they will get out of your way.”
Then he started laughing again.
“Is she really carrying a tree like a pole? HAHAHAHAHA!”
I hung up on him.
We felt a little better, but it was almost totally dark now, and we weren’t out of the woods yet. Literally.
We jogged in silence. Vera still had the tree-pole.
We looked around as we made our way back to the entrance and noticed that they were EV-ER-Y-WHERE.
In probably half a mile, we counted over 13 deer, staring at us from the darkness of the forest. I swear their eyes were glowing.
Vera and I were scared again.
We picked up the pace, tossed the pole, and ran to the car like we were being chased by the hounds from hell. I’m about to hyperventilate just thinking about it.
We jumped in the car, locked the doors, and swore to ourselves we would never, EV-ER, go into the woods close to dark again.
We were razzed forever by our colleagues about it.
“Did you hear about Roxie and Vera’s standoff with a killer deer? Do you know what it did? It LOOKED at them! Hahaha!”
Jerks.
It took a while, but Vera and I eventually got our courage up and tackled butt hill again.
In the daylight.
Until a few weeks ago, when Vera sent me an article in the local paper about a lady who was bitten by a copperhead snake on the trail at butt hill. They had to call paramedics and everything.
No. Thank. You.
Vera dubbed it The Trail of Fear, and we have vowed never to return.
So once again, I thought I liked being an outdoorsy gal—but nature has made its position very clear.
We are not friends.
And I will be respecting that boundary from a safe, indoor distance.
Mostly.
Thanks for reading ~ Roxie 💙
Roxie Rides Again 