I have never seen one. I turned my head and it was there, soundless, its head elevating and stopped when it saw my movement. We matched each other in stillness. It broke first, chancing a slow slow crouch up from the pond where it had been hunting peepers and frogs. Streaked in brown stripes, it matched the grass, and only its closeness brought it home to my eyes. It raised its head up, almost a straight line from the ground, and fixed itself. You cannot see me its body said. The rain fell in visible streams. The dogs waited, downcast, wet, looking at me with patient eyes: what is wrong with him now?
We walked on first. No need to frighten it. Let it hunt and feed and find a mate and grow more of its kind.
When the time comes, I will miss this beautiful world. 
