Deer by John DrinkwaterShy in their herding dwell the fallow deer
They are spirits of wild sense. Nobody near
Comes upon their pastures. There a life they live,
Of sufficient beauty, phantom, fugitive,
Treading as in jungles free leopards do,
Printless as eyelight, instant as dew.
The great kine are patient, and homecoming sheep
Know our bidding. The fallow deer keep
Delicate and far their counsel wild,
Never to be folded reconciled
To the spoiling hand as the poor flocks are;
Lightfoot, and swift and unfamiliar,
These you may not hinder, unconfined
Beautiful flocks of the mind.
I would have to say that deer are my favorite animal. To watch one bound away after it is startled in the forest is a captivating sight, none the less that it is normally a quite brief sight, of great strength and speed combined with grace. Last month we visited a farm where white-tailed deer are kept as livestock, and viewed the corrals where the lovely animals are kept but evidently not tamed ("never to be folded reconciled"). The deer in the pen closest to us seemed to be frightened at our presence. The farmer was not there at the time and I don't know if his presence is any less disturbing. I couldn't take my eyes off the deer zigzagging nonstop in its cage; to watch that beauty without it disappearing into the trees was very odd. We weren't there long enough for me to get used to the vision that is usually so rare. Nor did I begin to feel reconciled myself to coming near upon their pastures.
The photo of deer above was taken while walking down the street in an Oregon neighborhood. Perhaps those deer are calm because they are still "keeping their counsel wild." No one is threatening them. If I'd had my camera that day at the corral, I might have taken a sad video of a wild animal from whom I was at that moment stealing something. In that moment I wasn't thinking about these things; I didn't think there was anything wrong with breeding wild deer. But since I came home and read Drinkwater's poem again--I have treasured it and worked at memorizing it for decades--I am reconsidering.
1 comment:
A gardener who loves deer...yes..everytime ever I have seen them I have been excited, a leep in my heart. Once, when a child, I watched them through a window eat my mother's roses. I loved the tender peach gold blossoms and I loved the deer. I could not scare them away. I was captive to their beauty. Even being startled by them on the road, frightful as it can be, I am grateful for the peek. Lovely writing you have done here, your prose is a good match for the poet.
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