White Stag

Twilight was settling in. On both sides of the backroad, lush Wisconsin cornfields stood silent in the warm July air. With a bare arm propped out the window, we sailed along, just me and my trusty Toyota. Tomorrow we’ll leave all this behind and start a new adventure in Virginia.

I love leisurely drives like these, and the time they allow for reflection. Wisconsin hadn’t been on my list of retirement destinations. That is, until my daughter and her family moved here from Michigan. On phone calls, she and her husband raved about their new state and all it offered, and after a month here, I’ve grown to love this place too. Wisconsin is beautiful.

The big draw was spending time with my 2-1/2-year-old granddaughter. What an amazing time we’ve had. We’ve done all the important things, like touring her garden of peas, beans, and jolly red tomatoes. Playing Legos and putting on plays with her menagerie of fuzzy stuffed animals. And of course, we’ve broken bread. Then she melted my heart when, on her own, she took up my hand as we walked through a park. Leaving here is going to be tough.

Those were the thoughts entertaining me as I rounded a corner and drove south toward my Airbnb. But as I sped up, something in the corn caught my eye. “Did I just see what I think I saw?” I muttered.

Slowing down, I stopped on the shoulder and set my cellphone to camera mode. Slipping the car into reverse, I slowly backed up, carefully avoiding the ditch. Time slowed as I eased to a silent stop, and there, right out my window, was something I’ve only heard stories about, a white stag.

I started taking pictures in the dim light, carefully holding my breath to avoid shaking the camera. Amazingly the buck didn't run. Whitetails in Michigan instantly skedaddle when this close to humans. Not this big boy. He just lifted his magnificent head while munching corn and looked at me. Was he amused?

With just a few rows of corn separating us, he continued feeding. He was so nonchalant, he seemed almost tame. “How’s your day going?” I joked. “Is that corn yummy?” He seemed to answer by giving me another amused look. “Can you step out of the corn?” I asked. “It would be a magnificent picture.” And to my amazement, he did.

He moved to the side, and I could see a slight brown tint to his fur. Not a true albino, but close. “How many fawns did you sire this spring?” I continued, as he bowed down to take another bite. From this angle I could see his six-point rack gloved in luxurious white felt was perfectly symmetrical. Looking up, he tilted his head to one side as if answering, “Why ask such a silly question. Many.”

Tilting his head the other direction, he pondered me for a moment, blinked his sparkling ruby eyes, and disappeared into the ocean of green corn.

I sat there, taking in what just happened, about the odds of seeing a white stag. Was it one in a Million? More? Whatever the odds, it’s a good omen, and this beautiful places way of saying, these special things will be here when I return.