Death of a Doe
When I encounter dead animals, they’re usually packaged in chunks at the grocery store or scattered in pieces on the side of the road.
So when I found this recently deceased deer at one of the most picturesque and quiet spots I’ve been to lately, it felt a little surreal, even beautiful. I stood looking at her from the opposite side of the riverbank, imagining the river between us as the divide between life and death. From this distance, I couldn’t determine the doe’s cause of death so I chose to believe she died of old age.
I envisioned her walking to the familiar riverbank, at the end of her life, at the end of a season. She knelt to take one last sip from the waterway that sustained her for so long before lying down on the soft, aromatic bed of leaves and relinquishing her breath to the wind.
Her face was obscured by a large leaf and I wondered if it landed there before or after she passed, it seemed fitting either way. I took a quick photograph and continued my walk. I couldn’t think of a more perfect place for a deer to die.
