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.