I was camping one summer on a little lake--Deer Pond, the natives called
it--a few miles back from a quiet summer resort on the Maine coast.
Summer hotels and mackerel fishing and noisy excursions had lost their
semblance to a charm; so I made a little tent, hired a canoe, and moved
back into the woods.
It was better here. The days, were still and long, and the nights full
of peace. The air was good, for nothing but the wild creatures breathed
it, and the firs had touched it with their fragrance. The faraway surge
of the sea came up faintly till the spruces answered it, and both sounds
went gossiping over the hills together. On all sides were the woods,
which, on the north especially, stretched away over a broken country
beyond my farthest explorations.
Over against my tenting place a colony of herons had their nests in some
dark hemlocks. They were interesting as a camp of gypsies, some going
off in straggling bands to the coast at daybreak, others frogging in
the streams, and a few solitary, patient, philosophical ones joining me
daily in following the gentle art of Izaak Walton. And then, when the
sunset came and the deep red glowed just behind the hemlocks, and the
gypsy bands came home, I would see their sentinels posted here and there
among the hemlock tips--still, dark, graceful silhouettes etched in
sepia against the gorgeous after-glow--and hear the mothers croaking
their ungainly babies to sleep in the tree tops.
Down at one end of the pond a brood of young black ducks were learning
their daily lessons in hiding; at the other end a noisy kingfisher, an
honest blue heron, and a thieving mink shared the pools and watched each
other as rival fishermen. Hares by night, and squirrels by day, and
wood mice at all seasons played round my tent, or came shyly to taste
my bounty. A pair of big owls lived and hunted in a swamp hard by, who
hooted dismally before the storms came, and sometimes swept within the
circle of my fire at night. Every morning a raccoon stopped at a little
pool in the brook above my tent, to wash his food carefully ere taking
it home. So there was plenty to do and plenty to learn, and the days
passed all too swiftly.
I had been told by the village hunters that there were no deer; that
they had vanished long since, hounded and crusted and chevied out of
season, till life was not worth the living. So it was with a start of
surprise and a thrill of new interest that I came upon the tracks of
a large buck and two smaller deer on the shore one morning. I was
following them eagerly when I ran plump upon Old Wally, the cunningest
hunter and trapper in the whole region.
"Sho! Mister, what yer follerin?"
"Why, these deer tracks," I said simply.
Wally gave me a look, of great pity.
"Guess you're green--one o' them city fellers, ain't ye, Mister? Them
ere's sheep tracks--my sheep. Wandered off int' th' woods a spell ago,
and I hain't seen the tarnal critters since. Came up here lookin' for um
this mornin'."
I glanced at Wally's fish basket, and thought of the nibbled lily pads;
but I said nothing. Wally was a great hunter, albeit jealous; apt to
think of all the game in the woods as being sent by Providence to help
him get a lazy living; and I knew little about deer at that time. So I
took him to camp, fed him, and sent him away.
"Kinder keep a lookout for my sheep, will ye, Mister, down 't this end
o' the pond?" he said, pointing away from the deer tracks. "If ye see
ary one, send out word, and I'll come and fetch 'im.--Needn't foller
the tracks though; they wander like all possessed this time o' year," he
added earnestly as he went away.
That afternoon I went over to a little pond, a mile distant from my
camp, and deeper in the woods. The shore was well cut up with numerous
deer tracks, and among the lily pads everywhere were signs of recent
feeding. There was a man's track here too, which came cautiously out
from a thick point of woods, and spied about on the shore, and went
back again more cautiously than before. I took the measure of it back to
camp, and found that it corresponded perfectly with the boot tracks
of Old Wally. There were a few deer here, undoubtedly, which he was
watching jealously for his own benefit in the fall hunting.
When the next still, misty night came, it found me afloat on the lonely
little pond with a dark lantern fastened to an upright stick just in
front of me in the canoe. In the shadow of the shores all was black as
Egypt; but out in the middle the outlines of the pond could be followed
vaguely by the heavy cloud of woods against the lighter sky. The
stillness was intense; every slightest sound,--the creak of a bough or
the ripple of a passing musquash, the plunk of a water drop into the
lake or the snap of a rotten twig, broken by the weight of clinging
mist,--came to the strained ear with startling suddenness. Then, as I
waited and sifted the night sounds, a dainty plop, plop, plop! sent the
canoe gliding like a shadow toward the shore whence the sounds had come.
When the lantern opened noiselessly, sending a broad beam of gray, full
of shadows and misty lights, through the even blackness of the night,
the deer stood revealed--a beautiful creature, shrinking back into the
forest's shadow, yet ever drawn forward by the sudden wonder of the
light.
She turned her head towards me, and her eyes blazed like great colored
lights in the lantern's reflection. They fascinated me; I could see
nothing but those great glowing spots, blazing and scintillating with
a kind of intense fear and wonder out of the darkness. She turned
away, unable to endure the glory any longer; then released from the
fascination of her eyes, I saw her hurrying along the shore, a graceful
living shadow among the shadows, rubbing her head among the bushes as if
to brush away from her eyes the charm that dazzled them.
I followed a little way, watching every move, till she turned again, and
for a longer time stared steadfastly at the light. It was harder this
time to break away from its power. She came nearer two or three times,
halting between dainty steps to stare and wonder, while her eyes blazed
into mine. Then, as she faltered irresolutely, I reached forward and
closed the lantern, leaving lake and woods in deeper darkness than
before. At the sudden release I heard her plunge out of the water; but
a moment later she was moving nervously among the trees, trying to stamp
herself up to the courage point of coming back to investigate. And
when I flashed my lantern at the spot she threw aside caution and came
hurriedly down the bank again.
Later that night I heard other footsteps in the pond, and opened my
lantern upon three deer, a doe, a fawn and a large buck, feeding at
short intervals among the lily pads. The buck was wild; after one look
he plunged into the woods, whistling danger to his companions. But the
fawn heeded nothing, knew nothing for the moment save the fascination
of the wonderful glare out there in the darkness. Had I not shut off
the light, I think he would have climbed into the canoe in his intense
wonder.
I saw the little fellow again, in a curious way, a few nights later.
A wild storm was raging over the woods. Under its lash the great trees
writhed and groaned; and the "voices"--that strange phenomenon of the
forest and rapids--were calling wildly through the roar of the storm and
the rush of rain on innumerable leaves. I had gone out on the old wood
road, to lose myself for a little while in the intense darkness and
uproar, and to feel again the wild thrill of the elements. But the night
was too dark, the storm too fierce. Every few moments I would blunder
against a tree, which told me I was off the road; and to lose the road
meant to wander all night in the storm-swept woods. So I went back for
my lantern, with which I again started down the old cart path, a little
circle of wavering, jumping shadows about me, the one gray spot in the
midst of universal darkness.
I had gone but a few hundred yards when there was a rush--it was not the
wind or the rain--in a thicket on my right. Something jumped into the
circle of light. Two bright spots burned out of the darkness, then two
more; and with strange bleats a deer came close to me with her fawn. I
stood stockstill, with a thrill in my spine that was not altogether
of the elements, while the deer moved uneasily back and forth. The doe
wavered between fear and fascination; but the fawn knew no fear, or
perhaps he knew only the great fear of the uproar around him; for he
came close beside me, rested his nose an instant against the light, then
thrust his head between my arm and body, so as to shield his eyes, and
pressed close against my side, shivering with cold and fear, pleading
dumbly for my protection against the pitiless storm.
I refrained from touching the little thing, for no wild creature likes
to be handled, while his mother called in vain from the leafy darkness.
When I turned to go he followed me close, still trying to thrust his
face under my arm; and I had to close the light with a sharp click
before he bounded away down the road, where one who knew better than
I how to take care of a frightened innocent was, no doubt, waiting to
receive him.
I gave up everything else but fishing after that, and took to watching
the deer; but there was little to be learned in the summer woods. Once
I came upon the big buck lying down in a thicket. I was following his
track, trying to learn the Indian trick of sign-trailing, when he shot
up in front of me like Jack-in-a-box, and was gone before I knew what it
meant. From the impressions in the moss, I concluded that he slept with
all four feet under him, ready to shoot up at an instant's notice, with
power enough in his spring to clear any obstacle near him. And then I
thought of the way a cow gets up, first one end, then the other, rising
from the fore knees at last with puff and grunt and clacking of joints;
and I took my first lesson in wholesome respect for the creature whom I
already considered mine by right of discovery, and whose splendid head
I saw, in anticipation, adorning the hall of my house--to the utter
discomfiture of Old Wally.
At another time I crept up to an old road beyond the little deer pond,
where three deer, a mother with her fawn, and a young spike-buck, were
playing. They kept running up and down, leaping over the trees that lay
across the road with marvelous ease and grace--that is, the two larger
deer. The little fellow followed awkwardly; but he had the spring in
him, and was learning rapidly to gather himself for the rise, and lift
his hind feet at the top of his jump, and come down with all fours
together, instead of sprawling clumsily, as a horse does.
I saw the perfection of it a few days later. I was sitting before my
tent door at twilight, watching the herons, when there was a shot and a
sudden crash over on their side. In a moment the big buck plunged out of
the woods and went leaping in swift bounds along the shore, head
high, antlers back, the mighty muscles driving him up and onward as if
invisible wings were bearing him. A dozen great trees were fallen across
his path, one of which, as I afterwards measured, lay a clear eight feet
above the sand. But he never hesitated nor broke his splendid stride.
He would rush at a tree; rise light and swift till above it, where he
turned as if on a pivot, with head thrown back to the wind, actually
resting an instant in air at the very top of his jump; then shoot
downward, not falling but driven still by the impulse of his great
muscles. When he struck, all four feet were close together; and almost
quicker than the eye could follow he was in the air again, sweeping
along the water's edge, or rising like a bird over the next obstacle.
Just below me was a stream, with muddy shores on both sides. I looked to
see if he would stog himself there or turn aside; but he knew the place
better than I, and that just under the soft mud the sand lay firm and,
sure. He struck the muddy place only twice, once on either side
the fifteen-foot stream, sending out a light shower of mud in all
directions; then, because the banks on my side were steep, he leaped for
the cover of the woods and was gone.
I thought I had seen the last of him, when I heard him coming, bump!
bump! bump! the swift blows of his hoofs sounding all together on the
forest floor. So he flashed by, between me and my tent door, barely
swerved aside for my fire, and gave me another beautiful run down the
old road, rising and falling light as thistle-down, with the old trees
arching over him and brushing his antlers as he rocketed along.
The last branch had hardly swished behind him when, across the pond,
the underbrush parted cautiously and Old Wally appeared, trailing a long
gun. He had followed scarcely a dozen of the buck's jumps when he looked
back and saw me watching him from beside a great maple.
"Just a-follerin one o' my tarnal sheep. Strayed off day 'fore
yesterday. Hain't seen 'im, hev ye?" he bawled across.
"Just went along; ten or twelve points on his horns. And say, Wally--"
The old sinner, who was glancing about furtively to see if the white
sand showed any blood stains,--looked up quickly at the changed tone.
"You let those sheep of yours alone till the first of October; then I'll
help you round 'em up. Just now they're worth forty dollars apiece
to the state. I'll see that the warden collects it, too, if you shoot
another."
"Sho! Mister, I ain't a-shootin' no deer. Hain't seen a deer round here
in ten year or more. I just took a crack at a pa'tridge 'at kwitted at
me, top o' a stump"--
But as he vanished among the hemlocks, trailing his old gun, I knew that
he understood the threat. To make the matter sure I drove the deer
out of the pond that night, giving them the first of a series of rude
lessons in caution, until the falling leaves should make them wild
enough to take care of themselves.