My wife counted 42 deer the other morning while she was having coffee out back. They get in the way of my shooting and sometimes I have to shoo them out of my way when I'm Kubota'ing around.
Just now I was sitting on the back deck, smoking my evening stogie and having a bourbon, and this this little guy just lights on my dome. We hung out, had a chat, he pooped on my shirt, I finished my MonteCristo, and said bye. He went on his way.
I have said several times that it's kind of like purgatory here. I don't feel like I need to leave and it ain't bad at all. I think I'll die here.