When I was a kid the front door of my home featured a peephole. It was pretty cool. When you looked through the hole the front porch was visible but in a distorted fun house sort of way.
What a handy thing to have, a peephole. If the doorbell rang when you weren't expecting anyone you could see who it was without opening the door. If it was, say, a vacuum cleaner salesman you could avoid him by simply not answering the door. (Eventually this technology found it's way to telephones in the form of caller ID.)
In time, my parents replaced that door with a peepless model. Never again did I live in a house with a peephole in the door.
We really don't need a peephole. You can see who's standing at the door on the back porch through the kitchen windows. Still, it's there. The little kid in me spontaneously peeked through the hole yesterday. The porch was visible, distorted in that crazy rounded way. The railing around the porch looked like it was about to undulate. Off to the side there was a large white something. My first thought was, Wow! It must be a rare white elk! How did it get so close to the house? Did it jump the fence?!
I stepped away from the peephole, mouth agape. No way, I thought. It can't be.
A second glance revealed it was just the peephole version of the propane tank.
There COULD be a white elk around here.
Coming up the trail from somewhere.