Summer mornings are kind to the suburban walker. They are cool and quiet and they arrive a few minutes after 5. This morning I was out before the sun, and at the end of our neighborhood I saw three deer. They were young and thin, their faces impossibly narrow. I’ll admit: They look much cuter bounding through the woods than they do up close. For a minute all three of them froze, a self-protective device, I imagine. But then two of them ran back into the brush. Only one — the brazen one? the curious one? — stayed where she was. She looked me up one side and down the other. She took my measure, and I took hers. I think she could tell I meant her no harm. I was just another fellow creature taking the morning air.