Once, a few years ago, my mother and I were visiting family in the state of Missouri. We were in a beautiful wooded area, with homes sparsely located throughout. Driving through the quaint neighborhood, we spotted a deer in someone's back yard. Amazingly enough, I had my camera out and ready to go. "Pull over!" I exclaimed, hoping to snap the photo of the year. The deer couldn't have been more than 50 yards away.
Obediently, my mom pulled over, just as eager as I to sneak a closer look at the beautiful doe that remained frozen with fear in the near distance. We inched closer and closer, slowly and softly, not making any sudden movements. With every microscopic step, I became more stunned at the closing distance between the deer and us. It soon passed the point of believable that she made no effort to bound away. She just stood there, ears up, without making a move.
At last I raised my camera, not willing to tempt another step. And that's when all our wonder and fascination was destroyed.
"Hey!" a nearby neighbor called to us. "It's a statue!" It sure was.
Embarrassment is not a strong enough word, nor mortification either. We were stupified, with an emphasis on the "stupid." Our careful, deliberate moves were shattered in an instant, and like a frightened deer caught out in the open, we bounded without hesitation to the safe shelter of our car and sped away, no longer interested in the wildlife that could be just outside our window.