Life and death in the cold

Back during the middle of winter, I had a graphic reminder that real nature isn't Disney and that winter is tough on all things wild. I was taking a break in the maintenance shop when someone banged on the window. When I went out to see what they wanted, they told me that they had come across a dead deer on one of the trails. The guy told me that it looked like it had frozen to death during the night. Unlike many park visitors, they were very specific about where it was and how it had looked. They were also curious about what I would do with it. After thanking them for letting me know about it and telling them that all I do is get it off the trail and let nature take care of things, I headed out to take care of things.

What you have to realize is that I have a dark sense of humor, so if you can't handle that, stop reading now.

After slogging through the snow for about half a mile, I came across the deer, exactly where they said it would be. It was a large doe, and she had indeed frozen to death in her sleep. Problem is, things don't die with their eyes closed like in the movies. So here's this deer, frozen stiff, all curled up, and staring at me with her frozen glassy eyes. The whole situation is kind of surreal, really. Frozen deer, beautiful sunny day, small ranger looking for a place to conceal said dead deer in a mature forest with no undergrowth, dead deer staring at small ranger with her frozen glassy gaze. Does that set the visual scene well enough? Next we have the sounds: the wind sighing through the pine trees, the bird calls of chickadee and red-breasted nuthatch, the annoyed chirrrrrrr! of a red squirrel, and the small ranger holding a one-sided, stream-of-consciousness conversation with the dead deer, mostly having to do with why couldn't it have had the decency to have died out of sight of the trail instead of on it, me being appreciative of the fact that it's frozen solid and non-smelly, and where the hell am I going to stash it so it's out of sight, and will you please stop staring at me!

After looking around, I realize that my best option is to haul the carcass to the edge of the rocky ledge nearby and push it off. I reach out and grab it by the head, and discover that the neck isn't frozen as solidly as I might have liked when the head flops toward me, scaring the bejesus out of me. Okay, time for Plan B. This involves more conversation with the deer, use your imagination, it'll probably be pretty close to what was actually said. After standing back and looking things over, I decide that the legs must be frozen, they have less mass than the neck. Not to mention they're already curved nicely into handles, perfect for grasping and pulling. I reach out and grab the front legs. Yup, frozen stiff like I suspected, however, I discover that the deer is frozen to the ground. After much tugging and rocking back and forth (and a little swearing), I get the deer loose from the ground and start pulling it toward the ledge. Now I find that the back legs keep getting caught on every little thing sticking out of the snow. Again with the stepping back and looking things over. I decide that that backbone will make a pretty good keel, so I roll the body over and it glides pretty good on the snow. Meanwhile, the head flops back and forth, still staring at me with its frozen glassy gaze. I get it over to the ledge, give one last mighty tug and yell "Geronimo!" as I shove it over the ledge, where it tumbles end over end, head flopping back and forth. It come to rest against a big pine tree, well enough off the the trail that unless someone is really looking for it, it won't be noticed.

I head back to the shop and my interrupted coffee break, thinking about how this wasn't exactly what I had envisioned doing at work when I woke up that morning. I also thought a lot about the grace and beauty of a deer in life and how easily it is stilled by the elements. Life and death in the cold can be boiled down to one simple thing: you get enough calories and you live, you don't get enough or you burn too many, and you die. Although it was sad to see the deer not survive, her death meant life for a lot of other creatures in the woods: the coyotes, foxes, fishers, crows and ravens would eat the meat, the songbirds would peck at the fat and the rodents would gnaw on the bones for the calcium. Nothing goes to waste out here.

My last thought as I was trudging back down the mountain was: "I have to call Jason and tell him that Bambi froze to death and I had to throw the corpse off the cliff." Yes, I have a sick sense of humor.