It’s not easy being a deer.


This is the time of year my heart goes out to these graceful wild creatures.

Because in Maine?




It’s fly season.




And there’s nothing flies like more than a juicy deer.




The poor things are covered in them.




Day and night, night and day.




All over their bodies.

They twitch, they scratch, they shake like a Parkinson’s patient to no avail.




I can’t even imagine how horrible this must be.

I go berserk if one nasty fly finds me when I’m mowing the lawn…. I’d be stark raving mad if I had to contend with this many!

22 thoughts on “It’s not easy being a deer.”

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