Pig With Its Own Pond / Circle of Life

I have two tales to tell you for this day. They are both animal stories. And if you have a tender heart (and I know you do), you can skip the second one if it is too much for you. It was almost too much for US, and we lived through it.

Story 1: The Huge Pink Pig. My husband and I went to the Dry Hollow property for a hike. There is a big farm on the road we drive to get there, and we often hoot and holler over a huge, pink pig that we sometimes see consorting with the horses in the farmer's field. The pig is astoundingly large and marvelously pink!

Well, guess what, the pig was out on this day. BOY, was it out. It has its own whole pond, and it was hanging out right there, soaking up the rays, wearing not a single stitch, not even a bikini! My husband stopped the car and I hopped out for some pics, so please enjoy this photo of a porcine individual living its best life!

Story 2: The Deer. When we got home from our hike, I looked out the deck door windows to check on the hummingbirds, which are quite active. Two females are here now, and a male showed up on this day and instantly started chasing them, so I put up a second feeder out front.

While looking out the window, I saw a brown shape in the sunny woods, and noted that it was a deer. Deer often hang out on our property, or simply pass through. In summertime, they like to spend their days under our shady deck.

This one was sitting in a sun spot, looking mellow, and I thought, Cool. (See photo in the extras.) And I took some pictures. I saw the hummingbirds and the deer out the window: "It looks like the Peaceable Kingdom out there," I observed. And we went about our business. But a few hours later, the deer was still there, and aside from adjusting its position, it never got up.

Well, at that point, I started to ponder the situation. I wondered idly when female deer give birth, and whether they lie there a while before it happens. I thought, happily, that we might be about to witness something amazing.

But that was not to be the case. I got out my super-zoom camera and looked at the deer again. And this time, I saw it try to stand up. And it couldn't. I instantly understood the situation, and I started to cry.

No, there were not going to be any fawns for us. No happy miracle. The deer was injured, and it had come home to die. How mightily she struggled to stand, but couldn't. We guessed her back had been broken by being hit on the road by a car. How she got to this spot, the effort of it, how she made it home to us to die right by the bones of her sibling, we'll never know.

"What do deer like to eat?" my husband asked. Other than green stuff, I don't know. He looked it up on the Internet, and in the end, he took the deer out some water and a tray with snacks on it: carrots, peanuts, grapes, banana slices. She is one of our yearling fawns, halfway between fawn and adult. She struggled a bit as he approached, but she calmed right down when he spoke to her in a soothing tone.

As dusk fell, we sat and looked out the deck doors at her shape; it was like we were sitting with her for her last hours. My husband, watching with binoculars, noted that she ate some of the grapes and carrots. A last supper, I guess; a final kindness on her journey.

We talked about what to do, and agreed that we would assess the situation in the morning. "I'm only going to say this one time," I said; "It would be better if she passed on her own. If not, we're going to have to help her." I didn't look forward to calling a game warden to come out to end her suffering.

But morning has come, and while it is what I prayed and prayed for, the answer to my prayers has not made me happy. The little deer passed during the night. My husband went out and checked on her, and removed the food and water trays, and I took lilacs out to scatter around her. She is at rest now, and the story ends here, with nothing else for us to do.

We almost went backpacking instead of hiking. We would not have been here for any of this episode. But somehow, we did come home, we did participate, we did witness it all. As with many episodes in life, I don't know if I learned a single thing. I can say this, though, with certainty: the animals from this acre display a singular and almost astounding loyalty to this place, and to us.

In some way, I feel that it was all meant to be, for us to be together, and for us to be here to sit with her and bear witness during her journey to the Next Place; whatever place there is, for deer. She is with her sibling now. I hope that it is like Heaven, and that the two of them are dancing there, and well, and whole again, and full of the sparkle of life. Go easy. You are home now, little one.

I have told two stories: one happy, one very sad. I need some soundtrack songs. For the happy happy pink pig, let's have Pharrell Williams, with Happy. And for our yearling doe who came home to us, and to this acre for the final time, on this day, here is Kim Carnes, with I'll Be Here Where the Heart Is.