Letter: Deer park
The sun was shining with not a cloud in the sky. The wind was dying down. The tumbleweeds were tumbling about the Pueblo West landscape like the deck chairs on the Titanic. And between the 16th green and the 17th tee box on the Desert Hawk Golf Course (henceforth Deer Park) a battle-royal was shaping up between a four-point buck and a two-point buck with four ladies-in-waiting watching from our backyard lawn.
The little guy circled around the big guy who looked nonplussed at the antics of the lightweight fellow who was obviously feeling frisky.
Then the fight began!
Facing each other, heads down, they tentatively taped each other’s horns like football players practicing head butts.
A warm-up, I thought, for the main event, feinting to the left and right, jockeying for position. Horns briefly entangled.
But wait. It never got any better. Soon the does lost interest and started munching away at leftover tumbleweed. This went on for about 10 minutes, then the little guy embarrassingly backed off. The big fight was over. No drama at all. No charging at each other, no clashing of horns echoing across Deer Park. The dainty does, my wife and I, and even our little dog, were unimpressed.
The big boy strutted around like Bambi’s dad, singled out the cutest (I guess) doe with the Walt Disney eyelashes and started following her around Deer Park. Apparently, she wasn’t in the mood or maybe she was a “cougar” in disguise and thought the younger buck should have won. In any event, she took a headache pill and wandered off, leaving the numero uno buck standing alone and looking forlorn.
It was an anti-climactic event. Still, it was more exciting than watching golfers miss two-foot putts.