The deer who visit me never announce their arrival in advance. Approaching silently in an otherwise noisy, invasive, and discordant world, they seem to arrive out of the clear blue, acting as if our bird feeder serves as their personal drive-up, fast-food window. From where do they come? What dangerous and deadly roads have they crossed to reach my backyard?

 At the moment, they are calm, at least until they perceive danger, usually sourced to humans either directly or indirectly, most often in the form of speeding vehicles travelling well in excess of the posted limits of 25-35 mph.  There are no higher speed limits in the entire area, so motorists should have more than enough time to stop or to avoid them without endangerment. This fact does not prevent hysteria from prevailing in a town that demands their slaughter on account of infrequent accidents usually caused by reckless or negligent drivers travelling much faster than the legal limit. The other two justifications for the slaughter are Lyme disease, which may be caused by any form of wildlife including field mice and birds, very common in the neighborhood, and the destruction of landscaping. On my suburban property, about one third of an acre, an abundant variety of plant life thrives, and the deer are welcome to all of it. Yes, we work to preserve our roses and the spring tulips that live for all of a few weeks, if even that long, but at what cost? We’ll take the deer over the flowers any day of the week.

Today’s silent visitors happen to be two large bucks, not a very common sight even in an area where deer sightings have become daily occurrences as the result of the widespread destruction of their native habitat. Why else would they be drawn to such a densely populated, urban environment such as ours? Once they taste the delights that grow in our yards, why wouldn’t they return, just as we humans would remember our favorite restaurant or ice cream shop?

Regardless of the frequency of their visits, I am always surprised by their sudden, silent appearance, certainly by the sight of not one but two magnificent bucks, proudly displaying their velvet antlers for all the world of Princeton, New Jersey to see.  I stand perfectly motionless nearby, hopeful that my dogs will not detect their scent, at least not for another few, precious moments. Fluttering above their ornate headgear, a dozen protesting, highly inconvenienced birds loudly complain of the unexpected invasion, chirping nervously over the enormous, uninvited dinner guests. The bucks, on the other hand, pay them no mind as they are only wary of humans and their deadly vehicles. As the bucks help themselves to the fancy bird seed in my feeder, they suddenly notice my presence, regardless of how still and silent I remain.  Without any outward sign of alarm, they both return my locked eyes with their own frozen stare, instinctively expecting the very worst from me, a human, the greatest threat to their existence. 

As we remain fixed on each other in motionless silence, I wonder how these majestic creatures could pose such a threat to so many members of my human community.  Have we exhausted our usual supply of victims to vilify? If we are so concerned about road safety, why don’t we abide by the posted speed limits? If we are worried about the tulips, why not instead plant marigolds, which are totally undesirable to our deer?  If Lyme disease is a concern, why not practice basic hygiene, especially after spending extended periods of time outdoors?   This should be part of our normal routine anyway.

Why not exert the slightest effort in order to co-exist with our precious wildlife? The most vocal opponents of our native deer seem to be those, mostly from the city, who somehow decided to build their luxurioust mansions in the heavily wooded fringes of the town without even a rudimentary understanding of what living in a forest entails.  In prestigious Princeton, the preferred resolution to the conflict between humans and deer is to hire a very costly, commercial extermination company called White Buffalo out of New Haven, Connecticut, another Ivy League community.

As part of their program, the White Buffalo Company sets traps for the deer on both public and private property where they capture the unsuspecting creatures in large nets before shooting them in the brain. Relocation to nearby wildlife preserves is out of the question. Violent death is the only option available for highly educated, resourceful Princeton. Eventually, the town also reintroduced private bow hunting in order to supplement the very expensive, commercial killing operation. After wasting millions of taxpayer dollars on this annual exercise in futility, the deer only replenish themselves during their natural life cycle, possibly even more intensely under conditions of stress, and return to the irresistible delights that our  gardens readily provide. Unaware of municipal boundaries, the deer regularly wander into Princeton from a half dozen towns on its borders that do not institute similar slaughter programs.

Unlike the human inhabitants of Princeton, the needs of the deer are very basic and uncomplicated.  Best of all, they don’t talk. They just quietly and peacefully wander about my yard without demanding very much of me and without attempting to impress me with their latest conquests, achievements, and material accumulations. After enduring the head-splitting, shrill noise that surrounds me on all sides, shattering any possible sense of inner peace, I seek the solace and comfort that only my animal companions can provide.

As we stand riveted by each other’s gaze, my deer friends and I, for what seems like an eternity, I worry not only about their fate but about the future of all of us on this increasingly crowded, harsh, and violent planet.  While I welcome them to my tiny corner of this immense world, I am also concerned about their survival in a very nasty, hostile environment that threatens them from every direction. 

Once they disengage from our mutual staring contest, slowly and cautiously, the bucks begin to move toward the busy roads that surround us, and, unable to protect them from extreme danger, I am deeply troubled. As they jump my fence, departing for the very uncertain world beyond, an overwhelming sense of sadness descends upon me.

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