Deer Spotting

By James L. Davis

The headlights of my car caught the deer just as it was starting to cross the road.  The light of the day was only just fading from the sky as the deer looked at me, startled, it was a beautiful sight to behold.  I brought the car to a stop and waited as the four point buck cautiously started across the road.

My eyes followed the buck as it crossed and its frightened eyes continued to watch me as it came to the other side of the road.  And then, with one glance back at me, still staring at it intently, the buck shook its great antlered head and walked over to my car.

“What you lookin’ at fella?”  The buck stood in front of my door and tapped on my window with an antler until I finally rolled it down.  “I said what are you looking at?”

Not used to being addressed in such a fashion by woodland creatures, I was a little taken aback.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean every year about this time everywhere I turn there’s one of you humans gawking at me.  It gives me the creeps.  I try and cross a field and there you are, staring at me through your binoculars.  I come up from the creek and you just about run off the road trying to get a look at me.  So what?  Do I have something on my face for crying out loud?  What is it about me that you keep staring at?”

My eyes had been drawn inexorably toward the buck’s impressive rack, so it was difficult to pay attention.

“Hey buddy.  Down here, you’re staring again.  I asked you a question.”

“Oh, yeah.  Well, I’m not a hunter but I think people are looking at your, well, they’re looking at your…”

The buck poked his nose through the window of my car.  “Spit it out already.”

“Your rack.  They’re staring at your impressive rack,” I blurted out, ashamed because I could not help staring and hoping that the deer wasn't hostile.  He seemed to have some anger issues.  Had I known that deer had anger issues I would not have stopped to let this deer pass. 

“Well, that’s just sick.”  The deer paced around my car for a moment or two and then returned to my window.  I tried not to look at his antlers, but it was difficult.  “Why do you people want to stare at my rack?”

“Well, I think a lot hunters would like to have your rack.”

“No doubt, but my rack would look funny on one of you humans.”

“No, I don’t mean to wear, just to have, kinda like a trophy.”

The deer looked at me incredulously, which up until that point in time I was not aware that a deer could do.  

“You people want my rack as a trophy?”

“Well, not all people, just some people.  Hunters.”

“Rack hunters?”

“Sorta,” I said, not particularly comfortable with where this conversation was heading.

“Well just tell them to stop staring at me.  When I shed my antlers they can have them for crying out loud.  They can fight over them for all I care.”

“I don’t think you completely understand.”

“What’s not to understand?”  The buck was sitting on the hood of my car now, swinging his legs restlessly.

“The hunters, well, they don’t just want your antlers for a trophy.  They want your entire head.”

The deer laughed and I was shocked to discover that when deer laugh they sound exactly like David Letterman. “Well, that’s just crazy.  If they were to take my head as a trophy then they would have to…” The light of realization finally clicked on in the buck’s dull brown eyes.  “That’s…that’s inhuman!”

“Well, no, actually it’s pretty human.”

“They want to take my head?”

“And hang it on the wall, yes.”

“Why would they want to do such a thing?”

“It’s a sport.”

“Yeah, well so is football.  Do they hang the head of the opposing team’s quarterback on the wall?”

“No.  But maybe it’s never been suggested before.  It might make for a more exciting season.”

The buck jumped off my car hood and glared at me, shaking his head menacingly.  “You tell those sick voyeurs that they’ll get this rack over my dead body.”

“I think that’s the idea.”

But the buck didn't hear me.  He had started back across the road and my eyes drifted once again to his rack.

“Watch your eyes!” He called out as he slipped out of sight.