Rants & Essays

Great, Now What?

By Klaatu

DeerIt being the crossquarters between Autumn Equinox and Winter Solstice, I go out and perform Ye Olde Dark Rituals in Teh Sp00k33 D4rkn3ss, and what do I get within 20 minutes? A smallish herd of suburban deer are standing around in my back yard.

Okay, so I go out and harshly remonstrate them for being quadrupeds and ungulates, and perhaps even ruminants. (I'm a little bit hazy on that last bit.) Furthermore, I point out, they're standing around in my back yard. So what do they do? They stand there and look at me with that baffled clueless look you usually get from them when you talk to them. Waving hands does nothing. Pointing at them and telling them I will be applying for a hunting license when the office opens tomorrow, this also gets no significant response other than a bit of twitching of the ears, which is most likely more a response to mosquitoes than to my admittedly non-dire imprecations.

I tell them they had better look out or I might throw a trash can at them. They promptly stare at each other with unbridled deer lust and discuss with each other whether or not boinking in front of the human will make it go away so they can eat more shrubbery. Neither the discussion nor the act can discourage me from my remorseless castigations. But somehow throwing trash-cans seems a bit out of order and even over-the-top. The deer promptly fuck.

Some neighborhood longhair wanders past, and I point out to him that there are fucking deer in my yard, and all he can think of is to pointedly and largely pick his nose, or at least pretend to do so as he wanders along his unknown and unknowable and doubtless stoned-as-fuck path down the sidewalk homewards as he studiously and profoundly ignores me and the fucking deer. Okay, so he's dissing me in sign-language, but there are still deer fucking in the middle of my recently used Great Circle of Magickal Paganistic Power.

So much for the inviolable boundaries of Sacred Spaces and the inevitable power of tree-hugging religions. Or maybe it's an omen. Or maybe it's even more deer overpopulation coming down the pike. There's never a fawn-eating coyote around when you need one, is there. Whatever.