There they were, looking like tiny twinkling fireflies, barely visible as I rounded the curve. If they had been quail, they might have been called a covey. But that's impossible since, as I drew nearer, they appeared to be chest high.

I had attended the Gravette Chamber of Commerce banquet held at Horton Farms. It was an enjoyable evening and, driving west on Bethlehem Road, I mentally recalled the evening. The event was well attended. The decorations were classic Valentine red, including lots of roses. While remembering the music by the Gravette High jazz band, I recalled seeing several feet tapping to the bouncy rhythm. And the dinner, catered by Hard Luck's Stephen Martinez, to use an old Southern word, was scrumptious. Make that delicious.

Yes, it was a fine evening. And, while driving home on the paved road, I glanced upward occasionally to see stars of the Big Dipper. Was that a full moon visible in the rear-view mirror? Nope, it was the headlights of a car that soon turned into a private driveway.

But I digress. For as I drew near to the dancing flickers of light, a proverbial light bulb exploded in my brain.

That's a flock/herd (no, that's not right); it's a bunch of deer. And every time they changed position, headlamp light reflecting from their eyes appeared to twinkle.

The old self-defense mechanism kicked in. I slowed, almost to a crawl, until the deer came into full view. Standing alongside the road were five or six of the beautiful animals.

One, then another, and even a third began to cross in front of my stopped car. It was then I jumped. The thud against the side door shook the vehicle as the animal bounced off the car. If the window had been down I could have reached out and petted the animal as it fell to the pavement.

Then it was over. The deer got to its feet and moved away. The rest of the animals scattered and in a few seconds I pulled away, wondering as I traveled toward home, "How big is the dent in the door?" "Boy, I'm glad I didn't hit one." "I don't think it was badly hurt." And, always, "I hope it didn't scratch the paint."

Fast forward: I pulled into my driveway. Of course my first action was to reach in the back seat for the flashlight and then, hesitatingly, I pointed the beam of light against what I feared would be a crumpled, scratched door panel.

Wrong. There was a tiny scratch, probably there for a long time. And a couple of smudges which were almost invisible. Whew!

The moral: How glad I am I remembered to slow to a crawl -- and come to a stop! How important it was to be observant of the terrain, no matter how dark the night! How lucky that I didn't hit a deer, which could have messed up the grill and hood and, heaven forbid, even the windshield, to say nothing of causing air bags to deploy!

Was It because I had enjoyed the Chamber event that I drove slower than usual? That I was more observant of my surroundings? It might have been because....

Maybe it happened so I could write about the experience to re-remind myself and others about the number of deer that roam our hills -- deer that are involved in numerous collisions with vehicles, some tragically.

Deer really are beautiful, graceful animals. But it's good to remember that hitting one, or having one hit you, can shed light on the possible danger they pose to motorists -- not at all like hitting a swarm of fireflies.

Dodie Evans is editor emeritus of the Westside Eagle Observer. He can be reached by email at [email protected]. Opinions expressed are those of the author.