I was taking a walk down the street I live on, heading over to a municipal water tower that has a big tree-studded lot behind it that was nice to sit in for a change of scenery. As I got close to the tower, out comes this squat little fellow scampering down the road towards me. I expect it to take one look at me and bolt into the woods, but it doesn't. We both keep walking, and... I think we kinda had a moment. Like any two strangers passing on an empty street, we slowed down as we got closer, and silently acknowledged each other's presence as our eyes met.
It was an odd moment of connection, and I couldn't help but think about what it thought of the encounter. Obviously anthropomorphizing the local wildlife's thoughts is pure fiction. But I'm a fiction writer. So...
I met a human on the road today.
I often wonder what goes on in those big heads of theirs. They always seem preoccupied with something I can't see, and this one was dividing its attention between the road ahead and one of those weird rectangular devices they all seem to carry. Once it noticed me, though, the rectangle seemed to leave its thoughts.
Humans are strange. No two ever react exactly alike to seeing me. Some will only briefly notice and then ignore me. Some seem frightened of me and give me a wide berth. Some actually get angry seeing me in their territory and attempt to chase me away. This one kept watching me, but didn't stop walking. My destination was behind it, through the bushes beyond this path and towards my burrow in the open field beyond. Most groundhogs I know would change course, get off the road and take the long way home. After all, we're not the most mobile of creatures. If the human was determined, it could probably catch me and kill me. But I didn't want to leave the road, it was convenient and direct, and this human didn't seem like one of the angry ones that was actually dangerous.
So we both kept walking, approaching each other with keen interest in how the other would react. And then, something strange happened. We got close enough to look into each other's eyes. I slowed, the muscles in my hindquarters tensing instinctively in preparation for a quick getaway, and the human seemed to freeze for a moment as well. But there was no hostility in its eyes, no malice or anger or hunger. Just... something sadder, but something that seeing me seemed to alleviate, if only for a moment.
And then the moment was over. I scampered on by, grateful for the even surface of the human-made road to aid my short limbs, and the human continued walking in the opposite direction. I don't know where it went after that. But it seemed kind, if distressed by something I will never understand. Perhaps we'll meet again some day on that road. I don't think I would mind.