Death in the Snow
Article about: Deer, Illegal Hunting, Nature, Semi Tame Deer, Wildlife
Falling quietly, the first snow of the season bathed the rumpled limp form in an eerie white glow. It was “Tawny,” and he was dead. It was obvious in his dying moments, that he felt safe hidden here among the windfallen trees, as the life spilled from his body.
He was still warm as I reached down and gently stroked his soft, thick, fur. The deer’s long, slender head rested softly across an old fallen tree trunk. Shiny white antlers adorned his head, giving the animal a majestic bearing. His eyes, dull and lifeless, stared vacantly toward the gray, winter sky. His mouth was slightly opened revealing a pale, leathery, tongue. The tongue hung loosely, his last breath of life, long expired.
The snow fueled now by a strong relentless wind, fell in a steady, blinding, torrent and my body ached from the sub zero temperature. I bent down to carefully examine the deer, and it was then that I saw it. The fur on the animal’s stomach was ruffled and torn, exposing a large ugly gunshot wound. Blood, dark and foamy, oozed slowly from the gaping hole, forming a frothy red pool in the snow. It was evident from this wound, that the deer had died a slow, lingering, death.
I stood there in deafening silence, consumed by a mixture of anger and sadness. I was devastated and tried hard to control my emotions. “Tawny,” was a beautiful and intelligent animal, tolerant and trusting of the humans that inundated the park each day. It sickened me to think that a member of my own species would betray that trust and wantonly kill this lovely, inoffensive, creature.
I shuddered as I stood in the frigid air and recalled my first encounter with “Tawny.” I initially saw the small, spotted, fawn in the fall of the previous year. He was part of a family unit that seemed inseparable and included his parents, and a diminutive fawn I believed to be his sister
After countless outdoor treks through their area, a friendship was struck with the deer. The family became accustomed to my presence and would learn to accept apple slices from my outstretched hand. “Tawny,” in particular, grew very fond of me and often showed his pleasure with a wagging tail and bobbing head.
In a short time, “Tawny” quickly learned where and when I entered the park, and would patiently await my arrival each day. He would often accompany me on walks through the park, and I learned a great deal from these magnificent creatures. This friendship, however odd, prospered within the confines of this natural setting.
This natural setting was a city owned park, a designated wildlife refuge. It was a place to provide safe haven for a variety of wildlife living within the park boundaries. There was no hunting or trapping permitted here, but unfortunately, that never seemed to deter the poaching of wildlife.
The only way to deal with the problem of illegal hunting is for people to report offenders. There are people who know the offenders but for some reason, refuse to report them. If we report these people, increase police involvement and pass laws with hefty fines for poaching, we can make a difference. If you know violaters please report them to the proper authorities immediately.
The snow was slowly tapering off now and the wind mercifully relented. The snow laden trees creaked softly as the wind subsided and the park rested comfortably under its crystalline white blanket. Sparrows and chickadees flitted from tree to tree, singing their joyous winter songs, and celebrating life.
I looked down at the lifeless body sprawled at my feet. For me, there would be no celebrating. “Tawny,” would no longer be there to eagerly greet me at the park entrance. There would be no more walks, no gentle nuzzling or begging for apples, no wagging tail and bobbing head, just wonderful memories erased by a callous disregard for life and a senseless death.
It was becoming late now, and the snow fell in scattered flurries. The sun was making a feeble attempt to reach through the heavy cloud cover that seemed endless. I scanned the immediate area looking for that special place, and in a short time I had found it. It was getting colder and I had work to do. There was a grave to dig.
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