Yesterday morning, I walked to Sundown Ridge. At the end of the road, there stood three bucks, their antlers, still velveted, softly reflecting sunlight.

They stood unmoving, their gaze following my movement.

From the points on their antlers, their size and bulk, they looked to be three generations.

I passed them, they did not move. After reaching the end I turned around, and glimpsed their movement away into the woods.