Almost as warm outside as in. Two deer trot past, their gray coats shining, the trees behind them dark from last night’s rain.

—Every season is deer season; this is the opening day of rifle season. —Where are the rifles, then? —Zipped up in their cases, staying dry.

Dripdripdrip — rain on the roof. Off in the darkness, the explosive snorting of a deer: coyote? Bear? Human? Something with the wrong odor.