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michaelboyToday, a large doe died resting in the ditch next to the gravel lane beyond the back yard. Based on her size and a few other signs, I believe she had been pregnant and had likely died due to related complications. I wondered about her fawn but knew it was gone as well. There are plenty of other deer around here but it still felt sad to know that there will be one less spotted new life this year.
Because of her position, it was difficult to scoop her body into the bucket of the tractor with any sort of dignity. However, I did find a better place for her on public hunting land ... more peaceful and more away.
* * *
Traveling through the Dark
BY WILLIAM E. STAFFORD
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon: that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing; she had stiffened already, almost cold. I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason - her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting, alive, still, never to be born. Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights; under the hood purred the steady engine. I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red; around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—, then pushed her over the edge into the river.
Because of her position, it was difficult to scoop her body into the bucket of the tractor with any sort of dignity. However, I did find a better place for her on public hunting land ... more peaceful and more away.
* * *
Traveling through the Dark
BY WILLIAM E. STAFFORD
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon: that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing; she had stiffened already, almost cold. I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason - her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting, alive, still, never to be born. Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights; under the hood purred the steady engine. I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red; around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—, then pushed her over the edge into the river.
