Underneath

The past few days in Ithaca have ranged in the mid-90's and everyone, everything, is seeking relief. A young white-tail deer doe has taken refuge under our porch. Well, actually, under the house's porch. Amanda and I live in the bottom half of a house split into two apartments. The porch belongs to the upstairs tenant, but we get the best view of everything under the weathered planks.

Living in a converted basement isn't bad at all. During the summer, that first blast of air from the apartment feels good. Compared to the outside temperature, for a few minutes, it feels like we have air-conditioning. My skin gets that same tingling feeling I remember from sitting next to an air-conditioner after getting wet in the rain. In this heat, it feels wonderful.

Of course, then there is the deer. It comes and goes throughout the day, even though the few plants that grow around the porch's edge show plenty of deer damage. She would never have to leave, it seems, except for the necessary exercise. In our sheltered suburban environment, she has found another layer of security. Imagine the ecological equivalent of tucking the end of your blanket under your feet.

As environmental studies majors, we were taught to hate deer. They are pesky generalist species that over-graze the few ecosystems left around development. They endanger people (and themselves) by blasting through roadways and backyards. They munch away on hobbies and livelihoods. I called a u-pick strawberry farm last Sunday and the outgoing message on the lady's answering machine went, "I had a lot of deer damage this year. They took most of the fruit." She suggested going to another farm.
Deer, however, are native animals, which we first decimated and now brought back. All those flowers are not. Like the rabbit, we share a love-hate relationship with them. A creature we venerate though movies and Romantic imagery, but still hunt.
Observing the porch deer, I understand how people can fall in love with the creatures. She twitches her ears, searching for sounds in the neighborhood. I studied her snout from the kitchen window. She appears equine from my angle and whoever challenged the nobility of a horse? Her fur there starts bristly white and then changes into the warm browns of her body. Reminds me of my dog's own nose. Her own snout looked snowy around her wet nose. The deer's mouth lines run clean across her entire face and up towards the eyes.

I have never looked much into a deer's eyes. Folks say plenty about human eyes, and even cat and hawk's eyes. All those eyes have nice layers of pupil and iris, each with its own colors. and while deer certainly have a pupil and iris, all one sees is black.

How expressive those black eyes can be! The eyes shine with different lusters and inkiness, giving the entire surface a slick surface and mottled underside. I have observed the same wonder in my pet's eyes. How the rabbit will expand or shut his eyes or the guinea pig will bat the reflective sheen of his. In the scientific sense, black absorbs all colors, but does not reflect them. It keeps all those molecules and dancing photons, letting the deer express that energy through muscle and movement.

Peace!