Some times when the young refuse to listen to their elders bad things happen....
The canopy of ancient pine trees shut out the sun and the pines needles deadened the sound of his footsteps as he crept almost religiously through the forest. With his camoflage hat, coat and pants on he was almost invisible to the naked eye but the stag saw him or at least he smelled him, the human smell. The humans tried to disguise it with special scents no scents or even by climbing trees but the stag hadn’t lived as long as he had by being stupid. The young bucks and the does were expendable and he always managed to find one in his herd at the start of Boom-stick season who wanted to prove his or her bravery by being the first to go after the apples in the orchard and be the sacrifice to the human’s boom-sticks.
The stag watched from his own natural camouflaged site nestled between the fallen leafs and branches of an old gnarled fir tree amused as the hunter climbed up the ladder to his funny tree house. The human must think all us deer are stupid, it might be hard for us to look up into the trees but if we are on a hill we can see their puny attempts to hide from us across the miles. Rising slowly, as the hunter climbed his ladder; the stag turned and with a short snort announced to the two cute does beside him it was time to move.
Using the hill as their cover and the wind as their radar in case the silly human had another boom-stick friend close by they made there way to a swallow to wet and rugged for the humans to follow. Good place to rut and rest the remainder of the day away. He knew the young spike-horn deer was down sniffing close to the apples in the field below the human’s tree house. He wouldn’t listen to the old stag’s advice, too much musk in his glands that one. Sure enough the old buck heard the Boom-stick speak and shaking his head sadly he heard the young buck’s final rush and the final crash of the deer in the foliage behind him. Sad, sad, sad, there ought to be a law the old buck thought as he hurried his doe into his swamp and though ahead to the early morning hours when the boom-sticks were quiet and the apples would taste just as sweet.
Great show of imagination here, Fee! Enjoyed this:)
Sheila
Reviewed by Judy Lloyd
3/11/2005
Okay Felix this is neat and I did not mean to imply that I was offended it was a funny comment on your poem. It did not mean anything adverse because I truly like your talent. Explained now. I did not get to finish the comment to say that you were right on. My darned mouse every now and again attacks the keyboard. Sometimes I only get in two words and oh uh here it comes again.
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