The owl, the squirrel and the fleeting deer

She sits on a ledge under the roof just outside our window.

With my camera, I move slowly to the curtain and look through the narrow gap.

Her eyes bore into me, with that stern, penetrative owl-stare. I know that if I flinch, if I move a muscle, she will be gone.

I do ... and she flies. To the pine tree, where her grey colour camouflages her among the branches.

Meanwhile, out on the front lawn, near the border with our neighbour's wheat field, two squirrels forage in the grass.

One disappears into the wheat. The other does his funny, jumping run across the grass, his long brown tail stretched out behind him, as long as his body.

He scampers up the large poplar tree at the corner of the yard and disappears.

The other day, I was sitting under the veranda, reading. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement. Just a metre away, was our little squirrel. He looked at me. I looked at him. A precious, thrilling few seconds passed. He bolted.

Yesterday, while driving back from the beautiful village of Issigeac about four in the afternoon, on a narrow country road, we encountered two young deer.

They stood, seemingly unconcerned, as we slowed to a stop about fifty metres from them. We put on our hazard lights. A car came up behind us.

The deer leapt from the road and into a field.

It was an exciting sight.