I have had a special opportunity to see deer move. Capturing their movement in words is impossible. The change from peaceful grazer, carefully clipping and chewing the outdoors, to combustive machine, bursting with power, is too perfect. Words miss the point and skew the beauty. However, this is my best interpretation.
When I stepped out of the woods and came upon the herd, their last stationary movements were quick graceful twists of the neck that snapped their big eyes beaming into mine. Their legs, I am sure, contained massive springs and pistons. All of the explosive energy was directed straight down. The earth tore underneath their hooves and shot into the air was a shocked volley of turf backfired in my direction. The animals fled as I stood in complete awe. The white tailed flock of torpedoes ate the distance, and disappeared into the blended wood. Deer are dynamic brown bullets of flesh and furious pistons.
I have also had the opportunity to see deer not run.
Driving home at night, I am almost always guaranteed a look at a field of statuesque animals, each with eyes glistening like head mounted fog lamps. As they flashed across the street I caught a glimpse in the camera of my mind. The shutter popped open and snapped closed on their powerful hindquarters. The rippling, taut legs were frozen perpendicular to the static asphalt. I saved images of those brown bodies and eyes that burst with light. Floating for an eternal instant like a perfect photograph.
One morning I arrived home as the sun rose and saw a deer grazing on the grass of my front yard. With the car parked, I ducked behind its rear tire and kept myself out of sight. I waddled around the back of the house, lay on my belly to shimmy closer. The animal had seen me. It heard and smelt me too. A complex array of sensors monitored every aspect of our relationship. Its ears, eyes and nose all focused on me, a pinkish soft envelope, in a mirrored watching.
The animal did not flee. She ate. Her head swung up and down between bites. She chewed while judging the next move. Her ears flicked the biting bugs; mine sat motionless as the mosquitoes settled on my cheeks and pierced the exposed skin of my neck. I saw the hoof lift high in the air for each step, the hip muscle tense beneath the skin. Everything she did was with purpose, every movement exact and powerful. I had been tired when I first pulled into the driveway, but that was completely forgotten the second I saw her. At once I was alert. She gave me energy. It transferred over the cool summer air, electric in the breeze.
The doe chewed the dewy blades as she contentedly studied me. I shivered from the chill and from the bugs. The grass and woods were hers; they always had been. I have no physical abilities that can contend with nature. That was my final realization as my white arms freckled with bites and raised with goose pimples. Her smooth chestnut coat shimmered in the early light. We parted. I left her for my insulating blankets. She walked into the neighbor’s yard and began to nibble the shrubbery.
In my natural state, naked, I am not equipped for nature. It amazes me to think animals are outside for their entire lives. The wind whips around my house and cold air buffets my windows, but its only effect is a blustery noise. I have put walls and layers between the elements and myself. But the herds have to face the storms. There is no respite from a life totally at the mercy of the climate. When all of their defenses are flesh. I have outsmarted the Nor’easters and monsoons. My human mind has more than compensated for my inadequate natural protection. But I am still jealous of their effortless power and wild grace. No amount of pretension can make up for that shortcoming. No matter how successful I become I will never feel equal to the common deer.
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