Sympathy for A Deer (PB)

     A fawn is described purely by vulnerability. Flourishing expanses are only a temporary estate for the deer child. She waits hidden between the wild flowers and the great unknown. Her freckled camouflage shines in the light of day. She feels a great safety in the assurance that her mother watches vigilantly over her while the tranquility of their forest protects them and nurtures them both. Black berries are carefully picked from prickled vines and the trees protect the deer from lurking harm. The wind makes the fawns tail dance and her mother laughs accordingly. For now they know no menace; peril doesn't not knock on their front door. They drink from a pool of sustenance as night begins to fall and the sky's turn amber colored and soon will the forest be tenebrous. Stars fall over the trees to be framed within branches and the timber sings a gentle lullaby as it protects the fawn and her mother quietly until the first blush of dawn. This concludes the clandestine day of the Deer.

     But no sympathy is felt for a being that is at peace and relaxation. No. My sympathy comes from somewhere deep inside the human world. My father is a taxidermist and I've grown to know the art far too well. My sympathy comes from sights of Deer that I have seen very often. Disfigured bodies lay on the cement floor with eyes that plead for sympathy. Boxes filled to the brim with severed skullcaps with sets of antlers attached. Elevated Kiddie pools with furred hides to drain the blood from the husk. Bodies hang from the ceiling waiting to be scraped of their insides. Dead marbled eyes stare down from a coat that has since been filled with life and breath. Scenes from a horror film? Not exactly. Such scenes as these have been familiarized to my conscience and my brain hardly thinks the least when exposed to such repugnance. But in result of this exposure, my sympathy for the Deer has grown.

     I have known two faces of the animal. The face filled with misfortune and eyes of glass. And the face filled with breath and eyes of splendor. The latter of the two is a bewildering sight. Few instances in a human's life provides enough awe to bring a man to his knees. A man falls to the ground when he is faced with anguish and grief, but seldom does he fall when encountered by stupor. the sighting of a wild Deer provides a man with a glorious stupefaction only found through this manner. Dead eyes on the wall only provide a man with the wonder of not knowing how beautiful the animal once was.

    I will never understand the profession of my father, but have come to accept it. My sympathy for a Deer lies in the perplexity of innocent beings that are murdered for sport and displayed as trophies. One thousand words can be read in the eyes of a spry Odocoileus virginianus. If one is gentle enough to read them, a new world is unlocked. A world that doesn't know harm and strives to live as a deer does. Much can be learned from and animal as majestic as the Deer. 

     And when the Fawn wakes up, she feels the new day as one that will provide her with hopeful protection and will lead her into a serene and everlasting life.