For the past 15 years, author Gail Lowe has written a fictional story at the holiday season. This year, she chose forest animals as her main characters. Gail extends healthy, happy and peaceful holiday greetings to all of our readers and advertisers.
By GAIL LOWE
He might be old, but he is still rugged and handsome. His shoulders, though sloped, remain broad and muscular. His brown coat is sprinkled with gray, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it?
Stag does not have a name. He never needed one. But the lady of the forest—Whitetail Doe—has a name for him. Rex. He is, after all, royal in both status and stature.
It has been snowing off and on today, and the stiff wind has rendered the snow devils wild. Stag is standing front and center in a clearing and tries to see what is around him, but his sight is not as good as it once was, nor is his hearing. In his older years, he must rely on memory and instinct. He feels dizzy as he turns this way and that, and he finds it hard to get his bearings.
Snow has accumulated on his back, shoulders, the top of his head and what is left of his antlers. Right at his feet Squirrel is trying to stay upright on the icy path. She has a nut in her mouth, and maybe even one tucked inside her cheek. And there is Bird sitting on a nearby aspen branch. In the waning light, Stag thinks he can see a twig in his beak. Squirrel and Bird regard Stag with eyes that are kind, but they can offer nothing. They sit and stare at him as if he is their king, and they are his subjects.
Weeping Pine is Stag’s friend, too, and not far away. He lumbers slowly toward the tree, goes to his knees and drags himself under the drapery of her branches. He will find peace and safety here. It is also much warmer under Weeping Pine’s skirt than out there in the clearing.
From his vantage point, Stag has just noticed Rabbit, always one of his favorite companions. He nearly missed seeing Rabbit, so white is his fur against the falling snow. And there is Raccoon. Stag loves Raccoon’s handsome face, the dark rings and white patches around his yellow eyes and nose.
Stag hears a voice, this time nearby. He moves his bulk closer to the trunk of Weeping Pine and tries not to stir. He even slows his breathing so he will not be noticed. A long moment passes and then he realizes what he heard was nothing more than the whisper of the wind.
One time, humans were in their midst, and they built a fire in the middle of the clearing. Stag can still recall the gamey aroma of something cooking on the fire, something that turned his stomach. Flesh. Maybe the flesh of one of his friends. He recalls, too, that the human voices had grown louder as the evening hours passed. So boisterous and noisy were they that Stag and his friends could hardly sleep.
Brown Bear once told him she had seen two humans walking along the side of the river while drinking from shiny containers. When the men finished, they threw the containers onto the ground before walking away. Brown Bear had been curious and went to water’s edge to sniff what was left behind. A deeply inhaled breath nearly caused her to faint.
Stag closes his eyes now and rests his head on his front legs. In his mind, he envisions a meadow in spring. Buttercups dot the carpet of green grass, and honeybees dart from flower to flower in search of nectar. Soon, he hears someone approaching. He turns his head slightly and sees Whitetail Doe. She is graceful when she moves even though her girth is thickening with offspring. She will give birth in late spring. Stag thumps his hoof to get Whitetail Doe’s attention, and a few moments later she joins the huddle.
The sound of thunder startles Stag. Thunder in winter? A quick flash gives light to the black night sky and snuffs out the stars. He has never seen anything like this during winter before. He notices that the wind has died down, and the heavy snowfall has turned to flurries. Someone is inching toward him. Someone familiar. Rabbit peeks under the lowest branches of Weeping Pine and stops in his tracks. Stag looks him in the eye, inviting Rabbit into the cozy space. He notices that Rabbit is carrying something in his mouth. It is more than a morsel. It is a cluster of herbs growing from a clump of dirt! Rabbit draws closer and drops the herbs in front of Stag. He nuzzles Rabbit with his elegant snout and welcomes him to lie down. The herbs Rabbit has brought him are the most delectable Stag has ever tasted. Where did he find them? Though they are delicious, he hungers still. Soon, Stag senses that someone is stirring near Weeping Pine. He sniffs and knows that Raccoon is nearby. He doesn’t dare hope that Raccoon is bringing him bark, but when he sees Raccoon’s glowing eyes peering at him, Stag can see a chunk of bark between his teeth. He will enjoy the feast that his friends have brought. Over the years, he has given much to them. Protection. Warmth. Wisdom. And food. Squirrel, Bird, Whitetail Doe, Raccoon and Rabbit are happy to return the favor when they can.
Soon enough, the animals are sharing the warmth of Weeping Pine and a bit of bounty.
Stag looks from one pair of eyes to the other and gives a brief nod of his great head to each one. Then, they move closer to Stag and form a tight circle. Squirrel motions to Bird to tuck into his bushy tail. The wind has picked up again, but they are protected and warm because Stag gives off body heat that is strong and enduring. He is their furnace, and they are often his source of food. A human might say that one hand washes the other.
Stag remembers the days of old when there was plenty of rain in summer and much warmer winters. But that was long ago. Now, the river is but a trickle in summer and the constant blast of cold in winter threatens to turn his blood to ice. At least any snow that falls will help raise the river in spring. Stag lowers his head, closes his eyes and tries to sleep.
Hours later, the night sky has cleared, and Rabbit peeks out from under Weeping Pine to have a look around. There is something up there in the sky shining in brilliance. It gives off so much light that anyone would think it is daytime. Rabbit studies the sky and wonders what is up there. A star maybe? If it is, it is the brightest and most vibrant one he has ever seen. Should he wake the others so they, too, can see? He wonders about the two lines in the sky, one vertical, the other horizontal, and if there is any meaning. Three years ago, on a night similar to this one, he recalls a family of human campers who told stories around a small fire while his friends slept under Weeping Pine. The mother human told a story about a baby who was born in a barn and that he came to save the world. Save the world? Save the world from what? And then he remembers something else. The human father told another story. If Rabbit recalls correctly, the story had something to do with the human word “sin.” He had no idea what the word meant, and he has no idea now. Maybe he has seen the word in action, like the time two humans killed Fox with loud, fiery sticks and laughed about it when Fox screamed in agony and fell to the ground, writhing before he closed his eyes forever. Or the time when he witnessed a human use a pointy, sharp stick to kill another human. Like Fox, the human had fallen to the ground. He did not get up, nor could he.
There are more terrifying incidents Rabbit can recall, but he would rather not think about them.
But he does think about the baby born in the barn. He thinks the baby must be old now. Or maybe he has already died. Rabbit looks toward the sky again and what does he see but a glimmering light bearer next to the brightest star he has ever seen. The light bearer soon gives way to another and yet another and another, and before long Rabbit sees them descending to earth, heading straight for the clearing. The light bearers give off broad streams of color—brilliant purple, magenta, cobalt blue and cardinal red—interspersed with gold dust. What is heading toward them is a complexity that Rabbit cannot understand, will never understand. He watches the colorful light bearers continue their descent. What is happening? Why does Rabbit feel so calm? Why is he not afraid?
Rabbit also remembers his early days when he snuggled close to his mother. He had felt cared for then and loved. And this is exactly what he feels now as he watches the beautifully lit creatures draw closer.
Rabbit pokes Stag with one of his ragged claws, just enough to awaken him from his slumber. Stag opens one eye and looks at Rabbit, a question written on his face. Rabbit twitches his nose and looks in the direction of the light. Stag begins to stir at the sight, and his movement awakens the others. A moment later, all the animals hidden under Weeping Pine have their eyes trained on what is happening in the clearing.
The light bearers, stunning in color, soon transition into beings dressed in pure white. Big white feathers, something like Great Egret’s, are affixed to their shoulders. In all their splendor, they float and leap without effort and sing the most beautiful songs the animals have ever heard. What is this glory in their midst? What is the purpose? When the choir of voices fades into silence, the light bearers disappear into thin air. But they have left something behind. Raccoon ventures out from under Weeping Pine’s skirt and takes a closer look. What he finds is a low wooden table laden with food he and all his friends will need to keep them fed over the cold winter months. Stems, twigs, grasses, bush buds, bark, acorns, dried fruit, berries, seeds. The animals are overwhelmed with gratitude.
There is something else, too, something unfamiliar to them, and it has nothing to do with hunger. It is a feeling none of them has ever felt before. It is better than food. Better than shelter. Better than the chill of the river water that satisfies thirst in the deepest part of summer.
It is love. Love from the light bearers that descended from the night sky. Love from the baby born in the barn.
