Deer People, Read My Blog

Surprise! I do still write and think and ponder and expostulate. On occasion anyway. I’ve started several blog posts and then haven’t finished them due to a lack of inspiration. I read back over, think “So what?” and can’t answer the question. Soooo…I don’t bore you with them. But I’ve known for a while now that I wanted to write a post about nature. That sounds so boring though, doesn’t it?

Not so! I find, as many of my literary predecessors have, inspiration from nature. I also find fear. Many of you have heard about my scorpion sting. I will not go into detail here so as not to ever in any way relive the experience. But pain isn’t the only danger in nature. There are also deer, people.

It began…well it began a long, long time ago, I suppose, whenever a developer first decided to develop land north-east of Edmond proper, surrounded by forested plots of land, grazing cattle, and crops. The forested area chosen by the developer was cleared one acre at a time, leaving plenty of leafy coverage between houses so that privacy could be preserved. Because of this, the deer never moved out.

The past two years have been extremely hot. Grass has died, and the only green oases in Oklahoma are well-watered lawns. Enter the deer, in herds. The previous year was perfectly pastoral on our parcel of land with does and their fawns crossing the street at twilight, posing in our lawn in the morning hours, or even sometimes bedding down on the springy bed of grass outside our windows. If I was in the car and saw them close enough to the street, I would stop and roll down my window for a friendly exchange.

“Hey, deer! What a pretty fawn you have. The sweetest! Don’t mind my dogs if they bark at you. They wouldn’t know what to do with you if they caught you. No threat at all. Oh. You’re going? Oh, okay. I understand. Goodbye! Goodbye, deer!”

It was nice. But this summer, something has changed. Last month was the first episode. I was taking out the garbage, easing out my door backward so that the dogs wouldn’t slip past me. I turned and gasped. More of a suppressed scream. Not twenty paces away stood a deer. I dropped the garbage and hopped back in doors. The dogs cocked their heads to the side, silently asking me if I’d lost my bloomin’ mind. “There’s a deer outside!” I told them so that they wouldn’t think I was crazy.

I peeked back out the blinds. It was gone. I could go back outside.

Now, I ask you, why was this seemingly irrational response my gut reaction? Why did I feel as if I needed to go back inside and hide from a deer? Why did I peek outside, checking to make sure it had left and was safe for me to go outside again? Silly. And that’s what I told myself.

But that wasn’t the last encounter. The deer continued to frequent our lawn, encroaching on our house. I dismissed my nerves as an overactive imagination due to lack of stimulation. (Sitting in your house and working/crafting all day can lead to a Rear Window mentality.)

Last week I was walking my dogs late at night, as has become my custom every evening. It must have been around 11 o’clock. I usually walk them after Conan. It was Jasper’s turn, and as we drew close to the forested lot next door to our house, he stopped and perked his ears. Out walked five deer, crossing the road to a neighbor’s lawn in single file beneath one of two streetlights in our neighborhood. It was beautiful. It was what the transcendentalists wrote about in their sublime poetry.

I sat down where I was in the lawn. Jasper watched, alert. All at once he let out a mighty bay. I hushed him, and he sat docilely on my feet (not at my feet, on my feet). Too late. The deer were alerted to our presence. It was the oddest thing, though. They didn’t run. They stared. We—the deer, Jasper, and I—stared at one another what felt like minutes. And then the deer directly below the light yelled at us. There is no other word for it. It opened its deer mouth and emitted a loud noise meant to scare/chastise/in someway harm us. It did this for a while.

Jasper and I continued staring, transfixed by the horrible noise shattering our sublime moment. When we didn’t die/leave, the deer (collectively) turned and ambled out into the darkness. I was spooked. I told my family. They didn’t believe me. This confirmed my suspicion that I was now living a horror story with deer casted as my personal Freddy Krueger, or maybe they’re my birds. Yet to be determined, I suppose. One day they’ll either stand up on their back legs, shed their front hooves, and shiv me with their revealed deer hands… Or they’ll sprout wings and dive-bomb me. Which, let’s face it, is a lot more harmful and scary than Alfred’s Birds.

I continue to walk at night, comforted by my dog’s presence. Each one gets a turn about the yard, and each one has his good points. Jasper has heft and a deep bellow that’s good for scaring away critters and people. Buckley makes noises scarier than that deer, and he’s a killer. I’ve only seen him kill rabbits, but I bet he’d give a deer the ol’ college try should one attack me.

The dogs, however, have only kept the deer at bay, at the perimeters of sight, hidden in the country darkness that I used to find comforting. As I’m walking, I scan my surrounding, finding peace in the stars and beauty of the moon. Taking comfort in the importance of the armadillo’s mad digging. Smiling at the opossum waddling across the street in the moonlight, sometimes with little ones in tow. And then I’ll catch a flash, something reflecting the moonlight. I’ll move my head in increments so that I can spot it again. Two eyes, staring at me. Not close to the ground like coyotes, who are actually quite the scaredy cats. Higher. About the height of deer. And then I can make out the deer shape, and more deer around it grazing. Slowly they’ll raise their heads, eyes shining in the night as they stare at me.

Are you scared yet? Join my nightmare. In rebellion of the fear they’re trying to cage me with, I’m going to see Deer People tomorrow night at the conservatory. You should come, it’s going to be an awesome show. Their music is something everyone could (should) enjoy, and you’d be supporting a local band. Check them out: http://okc.net/2012/09/06/deerpeople-happy-fun-time/