So today I almost got in a fight with a pack of deer.

On my weekly ride through beautiful Prince George’s County, I was heading through a park just off the University of Maryland campus. As I came around a bend I noticed there was something blocking the trail ahead. Now usually this is a family with a stroller and a few kids, which I had dealt with about 27 times already at that point in the ride. They usually don’t notice you until you are right on them, and move only after you’ve passed.

This bunch just stared at me, so I knew they were a bit different. Oh and they were also standing on four legs instead of two. And the ears were on top of their heads. Basically, it was about 6 deer.

The look in their eyes said, “You want to go?”

It was a fight of opportunity for them. Here I was, all one of me, already tired from 15 miles of riding. Six of them, probably not that tired from just standing there and walking through the woods.

I stared back at them as I slowed down to a crawl. “Woah there big fella, you don’t want a piece of this,” I thought. My plan was to take off my helmet and use it with one quick throw to take out the leader. Without him, the rest would be unorganized and unable to mount a good assault. A jumpkick to one of the smaller ones, and elbow to the ribs of the mother and a primal forest scream would send the rest scampering for their lives.

The deer didn’t know of my plan, and if they somehow did, they didn’t look phased. The leader took a look back at his group, as if to say, “You guys ready?” Just then, a pack of three or four runners came on the path behind the deer. They must have thought that was my posse, executing some kind of classic pincers movement.

Although I didn’t know these people, they kept me from having to hurt any deer today. As they got within 20 feet of us, the deer decided they weren’t interested in a fair fight. The opportunity was gone. With that, they went skipping into the woods and I went on riding.

As I went around the next corner I looked back to make sure they weren’t going to attack from behind. I saw one looking back at me from the woods. I gave it a nod to say “next time big fella, next time.”

So today I ventured out on the wild and wonderful bike trail system of beautiful Prince George’s County. Gotta say, not so bad….except for some questionable stretches…

About 10 miles in I go around this corner and see a large tree. At the base of the tree is a squirrel, just sitting there, not doing anything. The squirrel has a look in his eye. I’ve seen this look before. It’s the one you see driving on a two lane road lined by trees, where the squirrel could pick any moment to try to make his mad dash across. Of course he’s a squirrel, so there’s not a lot of thought that goes into it. It’s pretty much, I’m tired of waiting, let’s give this a shot. It’s usually a bad choice.

So I make eye contact with this squirrel and give him the mental “Dude, I’ll be past you in five seconds, there’s no one behind me, you can safely cross then or 20 minutes after with no problems. Don’t. Go. Now.” It turns out that either myself or the squirrel lacks the ability to communicate through telepathy–I blame the squirrel–and he made a break for it. As he started to move I thought, surely I’m not going to have to slow down to avoid hitting a squirrel. Nobody runs over a squirrel on their bike. It just doesn’t happen.

It’s a good thing I slowed down. If it wasn’t for a swerve to the right thrown into the mix, I would have had dinner.

The lesson in all of this? Squirrels are out of their mind. And lack telepathy skills. And bow hunting skills.