The berry pickers

I was picking blackberries on the edges of an open field; black, juicy, and a wee bit tart; delicious! I hadn't brought a container, so I was eating as fast as I picked. I turned a corner, and met another blackberry eater.

Young deer, as surprised as I was.

Deciding I'm safe, she goes back to her meal.

I was eating berries; she was eating the leaves. Those canes have sharp spines, strong enough to tear my clothes. She doesn't seem to mind them on her back.

She was maybe a bit too tame; I'm safe, but not all people are. But she let me walk, slowly, up to a couple of metres from her. Then she turned away from the berry bushes and faced me.

"Who are you," she says, "and what do you want?"

I backed away slowly, and went back to the far side of the blackberry patch.