17 April 2020. Andronico's Deer.
An impromptu parade--the man in front--an older gentleman, out to walk his fluffy dog late on a Friday, close to sunset, just as I was turning down Solano from the Alameda above. I'd crossed over to the Andronico's side--that long run of blank wall with masked windows facing into the store, a dark modern-style awning above. When all of a sudden there appeared a young white-tail deer, trotting up quickly from behind, looking this way and that--hesitant to follow, but where else to go? They three of them seemed meant for each other--a genuine trio--even if the deer could never acquiesce to becoming a pet. (Dog's having better figured this one out.) The man continued along as if all were normal--why, he walked with a deer every afternoon--but as they passed the store, and the sidewalk opened up again, the young creature was clearly spooked, took a few hasty steps side to side, then suddenly bounded into the street, making a long curved diagonal across to Colusa and down the hill. You could see her choose her path with every leap--changing course in mid-air...
All this happened in an instant, but as I passed the man alongside, I turned back to ask him if he'd seen the deer. Unquestionably dramatic, but he'd been facing straight downhill. "Oh yes, she followed me for the last two blocks--but what to do? So I just kept walking..."
Of course with the sequester, Solano's been largely empty these days--the cars sporadic, so why not? A new setting for Donizetti--or a history painting by Titian, something from Ovid, as yet unseen--Flight of the Andronico's Deer...
