An Imperfect Creature

She comes late in the night like a ghost. I'm delighted. I hadn't seen her for two years, thinking she'd been shot or had succumbed to the harsh winter.

I watch from my window above the snowscape as she extends her graceful neck to test the air and advance another cautious step toward the food I'd left on the frozen ground. Hunger makes her bolder now as it does the other deer. The snow has remained many months and the weaker of them have died of starvation or predation unable to breach the deep snow for dry grass. In spite of it all, I see She has flourished, even roundly pregnant from the November rut, as most of the surviving does are.

She alone stands out from the others. She has only three legs. The fourth is intact but withered as if hit by an auto, possibly a birth defect or old gunshot wound.

She's an anachronism of grace for she advances awkwardly toward the dried corn laying on the snow. She bounces forward on the front foot while the rear hooves dutifully follow, throwing her head and 150 lbs upward in an ungainly lurch. To feed she must assume an even more awkward stance, somehow placing her good leg in a herculean effort to support most of her weight while she's able to reach the ground with her muzzle to feed.

It becomes obvious how she's survived when competing deer arrive for the food as well. She extends the withered hoof and leg like a sword, lashing out with it, even using her teeth to bite. I see the clumps of hair on the snow. The interlopers are keenly aware that she is different, a force to be reckoned with and respectfully wait until she finishes.

Last night she arrived early accompanied by yearling twin sisters, possibly her own. I inadvertently put out Sassy, our yearling standard poodle, on a lead attached near the door. The dog froze as the deer stood surprised as well. Remarkable. Both stared for an eternal five minutes, twenty feet apart. Three Legs finally hopped forward a single step, her ears forward as if she perceived the large long legged poodle to be a fawn or another deer. I held my breath.

Sassy could stand it no longer and gave a single "Whoof". Three legs whirled and raced away, far ahead of her companions. The speed of this tripod creature was incredible, the single front leg seeming to function far better than two!.

I love Three Legs. Why does she haunt me? What is it... pity? I don't think so. Is it projection? Do I love the the thing in her which I can only despise and try to amputate of myself? My own imperfections? Perhaps we're all more perfect than we think rather than more perfect than we feel. Perhaps Someone is watching us, marvelling and loving us for our imperfections. I hope so.

Good night, Three Legs....