The deer greet me fresh from the shower. She and I stand naked before her blithely unaware twins. A naturalists told me once that most deer are born as twins; God's little back-up system in one corner of creation, or maybe because they learn best from each other; two being stonger than one as the Book says. It must be more efficient in the grand scheme just to divide and create another; two for one and one for two.
Yet how many die? Not enough these days if you would believe the chants of suburbia. 80,000 is a lot and that is just the ones we encounter badly, just in this region. Still I am on their side.
I lean against the window, still wet, and watch the twins nibble their breakfast in the morning dew, learning as much from each other in cooperation and competition as they do from watching their mother. I see her flick her ears and raise her head, looking widely without moving, as though she sensed someone watching but can find no evidence behind the thick glass.
I want to run naked through the wood with them, to feel the swift bounding on firm hoofs and stop, standing suddenly still among the rustling leaves to be hidden in their falling.
I would hunt with a bow and kill them in the great tradition of the Navi'i ; Oel ngati kameie, ma tsmukan, ulte ngaru seiyi irayo. I see you brother and thank you'; your body stays with us and your soul goes to Eywa.
But I would miss them sadly did they not eat our tomatoes, wander in the yard and greet me in the morning, even when they make our hearts leap together when they appear beside the road and even so far as that one day when our paths collided...
