Sometimes the best adventures are also the most routine. My normal kayaking cruise heads across the lake to the Bluffs, follows the bluff line, and then returns back to our bay. During a recent early morning paddle, the fog was just rising from the lake. The sun low in the east, back-lighting it nicely. A slight breeze from the northwest was pushing under the fog and lifting it into dozens of tiny whirlwinds, miniature tornadoes, a lesson in the physics of tornado formation.
Crossing back from the Bluffs, I saw two strange objects in the distance. Ducks? Migrating pelicans (which sometimes do stop during the fall)? No, through my binoculars I could see two deer about half-way across the lake, swimming from the island toward the Bluffs. I paddled over to investigate, and when they saw me, they turned back toward the island. I followed slowly, not wanting to cause them to drown in a panic. When they got close to shore, I sped up until I was just behind the flank of one. They lumbered up onto the shore and vanished in what remains of the mostly flooded island. I paddled slowly to the far end of the island and saw two more deer (perhaps the same two) swimming swiftly toward shore. Upon seeing me they retreated back to the relative safety of the wooded island. Then I went a bit farther and saw a big buck, which was well across the bay and continued on its way, indifferent to my presence.
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