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thoughts of a young deer

Sunny was born into a picture-perfect dawn.

By Cellestine AggreyPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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thoughts of a young deer
Photo by Vincent van Zalinge on Unsplash

He hit the ground with an indignant bump. He looked like a wet rickety folding chair. He had a heart-shaped locket on his neck just over his legs. Instinct made him stand. Instinct and love made his mother lick him. Instinct, love, and evolution had him running at nearly thirty miles an hour fifteen minutes after he was born.

The storm of flesh was glorious. Thousands of creatures like him bringing thunder to the dawn, running through eternity, peace, and poetry in deer form.

To him, the whole river was theirs to drink. The whole earth was their food.

He learned quickly that all grass didn't grow the same. That's why the herd chased nitrogen-rich soil which made the best tasting grass.

Sunny was happy. When he ran, running was his favourite thing. When he ate, he ate his favourite food. When he drank water, he got drunk on it.

When he tucked his legs in on a large tussock or stood on the lea of the land with two or three thousand of his best friends around him eating, drinking, having a fit on top of each other, or just accommodating each other in an urgent way, he was happy. He felt at home.

And then one day, something bad happened. These stubby little cat things, fungus in flesh form, bullied and ate his friend. When they ran at the herd, the whole herd ran away.

He wanted to ask them all Why? Those cat things were vastly outnumbered. Why aren't we eating them? He thought to himself. If we took one bite each we could eat their entire species! They can't taste that bad! Let's all just trample them! We are bigger and faster than them in every important way. They couldn't hide from us if they tried! Why do we kowtow to them? There was no answer. His body couldn’t ask the question.

It happened again. Slightly different cat-like things ate an old deer, one of his kin. He was a venerable kind of deer. He looked at everything with humourful intelligence. It was undignified seeing him cornered amongst his friends. Unconscionable seeing his lifelong friends run away knowing they were all running to the same fate. Why couldn't they act?

Are we supposed to be food for lions? He asked himself. Who decided that? He wanted to ask each neighbour what they would rather be eastern by. He could almost hear the answer: What else is there besides eating grass and waiting to die. Without words, his mother advised him to leave his father alone. He couldn't ask her why she chose him instead of any other deer in this field. He felt trapped in his own body. The old herd felt like a cage. Why is everything this way? The whole earth felt like yet another cage.

When it happened again, he tried to stop, to show anger or respect. Deer jumped over him. There was so much dust he couldn't see the enemy. Instinct, love and evolution made him turn away and run until it hurt.

There was no outward indication of any change within him. Still, his age mates sensed that he was not like them. When a brother bit him out of curiosity or dominance, he attacked with all his might, knowing that if he lost he would be attacked even more. Who am I lying to? He thought to himself. We're all just the same.

When tiny dog things caught a mother, he knew the child would not survive. It dawned on him that could have been him. Fawns are too attached to their mums and not attached enough.

We're like grass to them, he thought of these predators. Worse, we're like delicious food and drink to them. Why weren't they made the size of fleas? If we must die then why must we feel such fear and pain?

There has got to be a better way. There has got to be a better way.

It’s strange how thoughts show paradise or hell. Instinct, love, and evolution made him think. Do I deserve to live?

Nature
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About the Creator

Cellestine Aggrey

I want to know what it took the best writers to get good. I'm curious. The minute Shakespeare, WC Williams, T Hughes, CA Duffy had done their best work must have felt like sky diving. We all should know what that deep catharsis feels like.

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