A True Story of Brave Deer

© Robin Easton - All Rights Reserved

Brave deer and her twins

Brave Deer’s scars slowly heal

(An early September morn) -- As I stood looking out my living room window at my landlord’s apple orchard, I saw a young doe sniffing the ground and trees, hoping to find fallen or reachable apples. I worried about the success of her hungry search, as the bright green apples still clung to their branches.

My heart tugged at the doe’s gaunt form, her long, graceful legs almost too thin to support her. The absence of body fat revealed a prominent, angular jaw and a delicate, pinched face. I could count her ribs. Without body fat she might not make it through the coming winter.

As I watched her nose around, I noticed some dark patches on her shoulders and neck. I grabbed my camera and snuck outside to investigate. I thought she might run at the soft click of my screen door. Her ears rose straight up and forward, muscles stiffened with alarm, ready to flee. But, at the sound of my soft voice her hunched shoulders relaxed and her head tipped sideways, puzzled. She stood and stared at me, and I at her. Life is curious about Itself.

I continued to soothe her with my voice as I very slowly, even nonchalantly, zigzagged my way across the grassy space between us. Occasionally I stopped, bent my face ground-ward and showed interest in the grass at my feet. I made casual chewing sounds and showed temporary disinterest in her. She further relaxed and continued her search for apples.

As I moved closer, I clearly saw the dark marks on her shoulders. They were huge raking scars. The absence of fur and the healed pink patches told the epic story of her great trauma and courageous survival. It appeared that she’d been attacked by a mountain lion (or possibly a bobcat), both are immensely large cats, silent, swift and powerful…hungry like all Life. Yes, the elusive cats, the timid deer and me…we all lived together on the mountain.

To have such extensive scars, Brave Deer’s original wounds would have been deep, open gouges, bleeding and searing with pain. Blessedly her wounds were almost healed.

Her shoulders told the story of long, racking claws that tore deep into flesh as the feline agilely pounced onto her back and sunk its claws into solid muscle. The cat would’ve desperately hung on as Brave Deer twisted, bucked and finally threw it off…maybe seconds before the cat could clamp its powerful jaws onto the back of the deer’s neck, crush her windpipe and suffocate her. With such a short jaw, the lion has massive gripping power.

One life fiercely fought for its vitally need sustenance, and the other life fiercely fought to save its own life. Both needs are equally powerful, with neither deer nor feline evil. Both animals are passionately in love with Life, desperately trying to survive. In truth, both are One Life. Life flowing into Life.

As I talked to the doe, tears ran down my face. I whispered, “Brave Deer, beautiful Brave Deer.” She turned to face me and stare into my eyes for unflinching minutes, listening, understanding. I knew she saw my entire soul. I felt it as she silently told me her story of suffering, courage and the need to recover.

Images, as real as day, flowed through me, images of her past months. Not vague images, but very real and specific images of places on the mountain, of the mountain lion on her back, of her terror and fierce struggle, images of eventual respite lying hidden under low hanging juniper branches, unable to move, images of open, bleeding wounds, of shock, barely able to breathe. Then, images of her attempts to rise, but too weak, more rest, more time alone… a time of enduring, slowly building resolve, resiliency.

Finally, there came a brief moment of movement and a little eating on the edge of a nearby grassy clearing, “Can’t expose myself, must stay hidden, too weak to protect myself.” More rest, more waiting. Then again, a time of eating sweet juicy grass, then hiding under low hanging branches, cool shaded Earth, soothing, healing.

Then came the day Brave Deer’s womb tugged and contracted, as new life was born. Life…in the face of death. This new life brought a resurgence of blessed energy, more resolve to live, “Must protect, must feed, must care for this new life, not just one, but two coming.” So much Life, even as Death lurks close by. “I must live.”

Brave Deer’s thoughts floated through me as clearly as I saw her standing before me: “Yes, Robin, it was a mountain lion who attacked me while I carried my twins. I birthed them in the cool shade of juniper trees and rocks. My babies stayed well hidden in case the hungry lion returned. He would not find them.

“The endless time of suffering and surviving continued. I fought infection from lion saliva and claws. I was so weak; I could barely move. But my babies…my babies would die if I did not eat. Their new life was a purpose larger than my own, a gift of Life. Our deepest love for another can sustain us. Yes, I am a Brave Deer. The odds of my survival were almost impossible, but I survived, anyway.”

In the apple orchard, I’d seen her longingly look into the trees at apples she could not reach. I gently spoke her name, and pointed to the apples and then back to her. She stood only ten feet from me as I freely moved about, reached for apples and slowly rolled them across the ground to her. She ate one after another, her thin little body desperate for nourishment. I ate with her, further easing her anxiety.

When she finished eating, I sat on a nearby rock and watched as she gradually moved closer until she stood five feet from me. She turned and aligned her body with mine so that we both looked out over the little orchard. Brave Deer no longer had to ‘keep an eye on me’, and did not need to constantly face me. Side-by-side we ‘sat’ in peaceful, sunny silence. She loved the sound of my voice. Her eyelids blissfully drooped as I softly, soothingly spoke. For twenty minutes we merged, each understanding the other.

I could have reached out my hand and touched her, but I knew she trusted that I would not. There was no need to touch. The feeling between us was already complete. Touch is not always the highest form of love or communication. My Deer Clan taught me that truth.

The next day, Brave Deer again wandered into the orchard. I quietly opened the door and slipped out to talk with her, to see what she might need or want. Again, I set her at ease and let her know there was no threat, no pressure…just peace and space.

Once more, I told her I would get the apples down for her and pointed to the tree as I continued to tell her that she was safe and loved. She was so thin that I worried about her. I reached high until I had an armful of apples, each one gently rolled across the grass to her.

I finally plunked down on the warm ground and ate apples with her. As I spoke and listened, she again came close until she was five feet away. I realized that she just wanted to stand close to me so that she could relax and feel safe. Most living things feel safe in the presence of Love. Brave Deer had a lot of trauma on her little face, a trauma that only time would heal.

Often people don’t understand why I don’t pet the deer, but one would have to understand the ‘desperate hunger for Wildness’ to know why I do not touch. I know, so well, this desperate yearning for all that is untouched, all that is Wild and Free. I now suspect that this Untamed Wildness runs through most facets of my life.

We both were content to just be in the sweetness of the other's company. Brave Deer stayed forty minutes with me, sometimes eating, sometimes just standing next to me. If I were to tame or harm her I might as well tame or harm myself, because in taming her, something in us both would die. I know firsthand the sentience, the trust, and innocence of a Pure Wild Soul. It is all Love.

Over the next couple of days, I went out and reached high into the trees for the best apples, rolled them across the ground while Brave Deer eagerly ate one after another until full. Then there was our quiet time, side-by-side. We both healed.

During our communion, I often wondered what happened to her twin fawns. I never saw any fawns in the area, none that stood nearby or partially hidden. I wondered if they had died, yet Brave Deer hadn’t spoken of their death.

One day, I noticed how Brave Deer occasionally glanced at the nearby bushes. Once or twice she walked to the edge of the orchard and sniffed. At the time, I assumed she was checking for danger. The next day, I went out as usual and got down apples for Brave Deer, rolled them across the grass until she was full. But on this day our routine changed. The moment she finished eating she headed toward the bushes and vanished. I could still feel her close by…just out of sight. I stood quietly watching, waiting…curious. Life repeatedly leaves me in awe, especially when Brave Deer suddenly reappeared with twin fawns in tow. Ah, so that’s why you sniffed the bushes, to make sure your babies were still close, still safe.

How magical that Brave Deer communicated to her young the need to stay close and hidden. How remarkable that all the days Brave Deer spent with me, the twins heeded her warning. I had eventually passed the test and was deemed safe enough for the little ones. They were already used to me as they had spent the last few days listening to my voice, sniffing my scent, seeing their mama stand with me, side-by-side.

What sweet bliss! My last day in the orchard with Brave Deer and The Twins was one of ecstatic communion. We spent the next hour eating apples, basking in warm sun, and watching The Twins cavort. Suddenly, it hit me all over again that Brave Deer had raised these twin fawns while healing massive gouges in her flesh, probably running a fever and in agonizing pain. Yet, she still kept her babies alive. How did she carry such a huge burden alone? It was the existence of her babies that kept her going, just as she had told me. Without her, this new life would die.

Yet, through it all, Brave Deer was not really alone. She had the love of her fawns, the love of her Mountain, the Love of Life Itself…and now my love. But, what courage, such as I have rarely seen, such resolve of purpose. I was again reminded of the unwavering resiliency of Life.

That night we had strong wind that rattled my little casita and sent dozens of apples falling to the ground. Some bears also came that night, lured by the rich scent of apples on the wind. Their salivating hunger and delightfully rotund-weight ripped branches from tree trunks and crashed apples to the ground. Now, there were enough apples in the grass for bears, deer, and me.

Occasionally I saw Brave Deer and The Twins in the orchard, but I now left them well alone. I didn’t want the little ones to become too attached to me. They needed this time of wild-training to survive the years ahead. Brave Deer’s weight was almost back to normal and she would need her focus on protecting The Twins…not on me.

Eventually, they stopped coming to the orchard, but my heart was not empty. It was fuller than I could have imagined. Brave Deer continues to sustain my courage as I focus on my own healing. I draw immense strength from her, knowing all that she survived. She and I are merged souls…always.

One day on the mountain I will cross paths with Brave Deer. The moment I speak or breathe, she will know me. Nothing is forgotten…especially Love.

All my love,
Robin

© Robin Easton – All Rights Reserved
-- EXCERPT FROM: Robin Easton's upcoming book, "Seeing the World With Wild Eyes."

NOTES:
Photos of Brave Deer and The Twins: The first photo I love because her legs and head are so elegant, although very thin. This photo conveys Brave Deer’s gentle nature. Her long legs, like thin twigs, carry her in leaps and bounds over rocks and dead-fall on the mountain. The second photo is of Brave Deer with much more weight on her elegant frame. Her two healthy, joyous fawns are with her. The third photo, I took to show some of the numerous claw marks on Brave Deer’s shoulders. She is eating one of the apples I rolled to her.