I see him now, often; roaming silently through the brush. Looking out the kitchen windows as I start dinner. Reading the mail. I catch sight of the long tips of the now full rack blending with the barren tips of the tree branches. Often, a doe, rushing past, is the first clue that he, or a brother, is nearby. This king of our little forest is the one I wanted to see, however. Thursday, I finally saw him. Close. Eight points, at least. He was there, in sight, right off the deck, then behind the garage – just as Tom was coming in the door.
“Buck” I shouted, floundering for my camera. “Big Buck”.
Tom looked at me for an instant, not quite sure what I was saying, then turned. A few yards away, the king of our little forest walked, majestically, past our arbor, in hot pursuit of his mate.
There we were, like Donner and Blitzen, rushing across our drive and into our neighbors’ yard, in equally hot pursuit of the buck. Most of the herd was out, the boys either resting on the ground or off to side, the girls in high anticipation.
We mostly watched him, the king, and we knew him; the Christmas buck of two years past. He had survived! There is now an almost imperceptible limp of the injured leg. Just enough for us to know, it is him. I invite you to read the story of the late night drama in late December that played out in our front yard to fully understand our excitement at seeing this royal creature again. Be assured,, his rack is kingly, his gait imposing, especially with his slight hesitation. The story is here.
If you click on the pictures twice you can see him. I’m sure he’ll be back, as I’m sure Antler Man will be looking, soon, for the antler sheds.
Two Look at Two by Robert Frost
A little further up the mountain side
With night so near, but not much further up.
They must have halted soon in any case
With thoughts of a path back, how rough it was
With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness;
When they were halted by a tumbled wall
With barbed-wire binding. They stood facing this,
Spending what onward impulse they still had
In One last look the way they must not go,
On up the failing path, where, if a stone
Or earthslide moved at night, it moved itself;
No footstep moved it. ‘This is all,’ they sighed,
Good-night to woods.’ But not so; there was more.
A doe from round a spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall, as near the wall as they.
She saw them in their field, they her in hers.
The difficulty of seeing what stood still,
Like some up-ended boulder split in two,
Was in her clouded eyes; they saw no fear there.
She seemed to think that two thus they were safe.
Then, as if they were something that, though strange,
She could not trouble her mind with too long,
She sighed and passed unscared along the wall.
‘This, then, is all. What more is there to ask?’
But no, not yet. A snort to bid them wait.
A buck from round the spruce stood looking at them
Across the wall as near the wall as they.
This was an antlered buck of lusty nostril,
Not the same doe come back into her place.
He viewed them quizzically with jerks of head,
As if to ask, ‘Why don’t you make some motion?
Or give some sign of life? Because you can’t.
I doubt if you’re as living as you look.”
Thus till he had them almost feeling dared
To stretch a proffering hand — and a spell-breaking.
Then he too passed unscared along the wall.
Two had seen two, whichever side you spoke from.
‘This must be all.’ It was all. Still they stood,
A great wave from it going over them,
As if the earth in one unlooked-for favour
Had made them certain earth returned their love.
Ohhhhhh! Speechless, but thank you (and thank you for the link.) Wonderful stories.
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Thank you, Sallie. It is good to know this fellow is still around. Of course, I’ll be stomping my foot and yelling “get off my garden” when I catch him eating my hydrangeas. Sigh
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How awe-inspiring Penny! The wonders of the natural world are so close to you. I love your description: ‘the long tips of the now full rack blending with the barren tips of the tree branches.’ I was with you every moment, and grateful for the double click tip to make the photo big enough to see him, majestic as he is. The poem is such a good match to this post.
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Than you, Juliet. These lovely creatures have such a mystical air about them this time of year. I’m glad you clicked twice, otherwise these pictures are just a messy expanse of lawn.
Isn’t it a wonderful poem?
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What a beautiful Frost poem, and so very fitting. I have a doe with a front leg she’s hobbling with and I’m worried for her safety. I think it’s the same one from last year, also. I’m glad you got to see this magnificent creature again.
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It is, isn’t it Teresa? I just discovered it and was overjoyed at the discovery. When we realized it was the deer we had watched before, it was like seeing a long, long friend who had made it. I think that when we live so close to nature and observe them so closely, they become part of our circle of trust and of worry, don’t they? I hope your doe overcomes her injury and is around a long, long time.
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Oh, how exhilarating! How wonderful to know your buck is alive and well, Penny, and what a magical moment when you saw him. I’m excited over here, thousands of miles away….
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It was a magical moment, Kate. I wish I could have gotten a closer shot. He is quite magnificent. We’re hoping for a few more “moments”. Hope you are having a good weekend.
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Did Robert Frost write that poem especially for you and Tom?! What a nice story and I’m so glad to know that the buck you wrote about is alive and well!
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I had just discovered the poem, Janet, and it felt as if Frost had written it specifically for us. It was a moment of relief, as well as excitement, in the realization that this was the Christmas buck we’d fretted so much about. I love these moments in life, brief and sweet though they are.
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Dear Penny, Robert Frost’s poetry has always enriched my life. I know that to some he is out of date, unfashionable, like Andrew Wyeth. But to me, he speaks so clearly of the deep down Oneness that connects all nature–you and I, the cats with whom I live, the Christmas buck and the doe who visit the Cutoff. This is mystery. Holy ground.
Thank you for the link to the 2010 story and for your excitement today at the Christmas buck’s return. I rejoice with you. Peace.
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Robert Frost and Andrew Wyeth are still a presence in my life, fashionable or not. How well your words sing to me right now. I love Frost’s poetry, but, didn’t know this poem until it presented itself to me shortly after the Christmas buck appeared. I’m so pleased that the poem spoke to you as well, and, of course, the cats, Dee. Another meaning, isn’t it, to “Two Look at Two”?
You are welcome. We worried about that buck who was so much a part of Christmas, 2010, and felt so relieved to see him again. I’m so grateful for your comment. Thank you.
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Penny, we don’t see much wildlife where I live in Los Angeles, but when we visit our friends in Sun Valley, Idaho we are always seeing deer. I love the sightings. Thank you for including that wonderful poem by Robert Frost. I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!
xx Sunday
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I can imagine how exciting it is to see deer in Sun Valley, Sunday. We love to see them here – until they eat my plants. Isn’t it a wonderful poem. I just discovered it, waiting for me upon the sighting of the buck. I wish you a wonderful Thanksgiving as well. Enjoy.
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You have some beautiful photos and ending this with the beautiful Frost poem was just perfect. Jim set up some game cameras and has captured some nice deer photos and one of our neighbor walking along the property line. Hee hee. Fun stuff.
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Isn’t it a wonderful poem? I just discovered it before writing the post. I love how such things sometimes appear just when I didn’t know I was looking for them.
Oh, Janet, I imagine Jim is getting some wonderful, unassuming (tee hee) pictures of your deer; not sure about the neighbor. It is “soupy” outside right now.
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Oh how splendid, Penny! To live so close to nature that you can recognise individual creatures, even after an absence of months or years. Thank you for the magical combination of your words and photos, including that poignant post you link to, and Frost’s memorable poem.
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We are so fortunate to be here on the Cutoff, Perpetua, and both Tom and I were thrilled to see the return of this particular buck. It is funny, as life can sometimes be, that Frost’s poem materialized as I was thinking about writing this post. Life is grand! Thank you, Perpetua.
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