Deer Squat
Deer squat.Did you know that? Because I sure didn't and I wouldn't have believed it had I not seen it for myself this morning.
I was amusing myself on the commute this morning by adoring the gorgeous clear day. I looked out into a big grassy field somewhere in the pastoral lands between Morgan Hill and Gilroy...when I noticed a bunch of deer in the field.
"Awwww", I thought, "Look at all those deer... how cute. With the sunshiney morning light and the bright green.....hey...what are those deer doing?"
About 4 of the deer were squatting. And I couldn't tell if they were doing #1 or #2, but they were definitely relieving themselves cuz they had that look on their faces that cats get when you watch them use the litter box.
And I still don't know why they were all going at the same time. Probably all girl deers.
Wish I would have stopped to take a picture because the google image search on this was pretty scarce.
I have no idea why this amuses me. What a ridicuous blog post.
posted by Velo Bella @ 9:24 AM
16 Comments:
Just goes to show that the idea that deer don't know squat is a fallacy.
Thats a pic to hang in the lav for pondering
that's quite the natural bidet the deer has goin there...or maybe he just has a super hot ass
I've had a thing these past few days for super hot asses it seems
mmmm...me tooo. Thx for the pics..
you people sure are dorky
why thankyou anon!
reminds me of a time i was in cuba bike racing (don't ask) ... i got bad, waaay bad food poisoning in a town called Cienfuegos during one of the stage races (yeah ... the town of '100 fires' ... that's some bootron irony, baby).
This sports doc (i'm assuming it was a doc), examined me with a chosen non-english tongue and after a few minutes of squinting eyes and latino charades, handed me one of those single serving aspirin bottles you buy for $3.95 at the airport.
His gestures and emphasis made me understand i was to provide a ... sample.
"Numero dos?"
i wanted confirmation. Nothing as embarrassing as providing the wrong sample.
Unfortunately, he was asking for a sample during the 20 hours of the day that there was no water flowing in the sports facility we were staying at.
... literally, no water except between 7am - 9am.
stinky.
So anyway, without a bathroom to hide in (didn't matter, i had already destroyed the dorm room bathroom the night before ... i mean, destroyed ... hurlings and rear explosions all frickin night long after a 120 mile stage ... i was a strained, stained, ugly little piece of forgotten beef jerkey), i dragged my emaciated, dehydrated, unrecovered butt out to the jungles that bordered the sporting complex like a chaotic advance of an invading fungus.
I struggled out as best i could to find a quiet moment and place of tranquility for my sample production.
5 minutes of squatty-squatty yielded nothing but shaky legs and bulging veins in the forehead.
10 minute after that, and i was risking blowing a gasket into unconsciousness from the struggle to pass out an anemic little lump of 'Hi-dee-ho, everybody!'
As i was in ... mid-excrementus, up walks some local yokal, in full cubano field worker flair.
Of course, first it was hearing him that was the poo-mood breaker - causing me a sigh of, 'oh, what the hell next?'
I just looked over at him mid-poodle production ... waiting for the punch line to drop, espanol or not.
It's then i noticed, this dude is carrying, no lie, an empty bird cage in his right hand. He's trucking through the cubano woodsey-woodseys, pampering and balancing a brightly-shiny empty birdcage as if it's got the imaginary goose laying golden right then and there.
He was this a dark, thin, aged man - wind carved by the carribean tropicals and sun-burned by the evil wages of colonial residue.
He took one look at me, dead pan-like, and nodded a greeting without breaking his jungle pace. It was done with more dignity and calm than 99% of the aMErican men i've ever come in shouting distance of would have produced.
amazing.
---
thanks for the squat.
m
squats or hurls, you seem to have the extreme explosion stories covered, oV
i'd think you made them up but....no...there's too much real there
me ... write fiction?
never.
~
And VB thought this was a rediculous blog post! I knew there was potential....
You people crack me up!
blogs = good idea.
diarrhea and vomit always make him laugh
pab is a man of culture
Finally. I have been waiting for this ditty for some time now.
I was a strained, stained, ugly little piece of forgotten beef jerkey
anemic little lump of 'Hi-dee-ho, everybody!'
poo-mood breaker
mid-poodle production
sun-burned by the evil wages of colonial residue.
all juicy yummy writing, even if the subject is not.
No squatting deer sightings this morning.
bummer
there's always tomorrow ...
yes.
I'll be thinking of other things tomorrow morning
yummy
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