Dawn's Miracle

In the forest, the miracle of life takes on a new meaning.

Dawn’s Miracle

The flashlight’s white, bright, intense glare blinded her.

And the young fawn’s legs were too weak to run.

There, Dawn sat, shivering, quivering. She was alone. She was facing danger now like any other animal in the forest.
Dawn’s cold nose sniffed the even colder air above her. Another winter storm was coming quickly. It was gathering strength. It was out there, building. It was out there brewing, among the pine trees dotting the mountaintops.

But she was already a survivor.

She had survived the hunters. Those men in their bright orange caps and vests. She found a thick mix of dark-brown brush and its surrounding grass to hide in.

Now, standing above her with his flashlight, was a security guard. The red name tag on his vest said “Big John”.
His kind, understanding eyes looked down on the helpless fawn. Then his large ears heard something else.

Big John closed his eyes to concentrate on the sound.

“Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!”

He knew all the sounds of the forest. This was the sound of approaching deer. It was the sound of their hooves on the ice-covered, frozen leaves on the cold, early November ground.

Then the sound stopped.

He waited. He heard nothing more than the faint breeze, rustling through the bare trees. Big John dropped down on both knees.

“It’s okay, little one,” he said to Dawn. “You’re outside the park. You’re on private property now. You’re safe with me.”

Then Big John gently lifted the fawn up in his thick, strong arms. Looking down on her, the first rays of morning sunshine began flashing all over her frightened face.

“Let me go!” she said, struggling mightily.

Dawn began kicking with her back legs. With her front legs, she began twisting, squirming, trying everything to escape his firm grasp.
Minutes later, she gave up. Her strength gone from a lack of food.

“Just look at that bright, clear sky,” Big John laughed, carrying her back to his truck, like a new-born. “And to think that I found you out here like this. It’s like you’ve brought out the morning dawn.”

Then, bending down, and without thinking, Big John bent down, kissing her forehead. “I’m calling you, Dawn, for the morning dawn.”

“You’ll put me down this instant,” said Dawn defiantly. “And don’t you dare call me by that name. Only my father and mother can call me that!”

Looking down over the top of Big John’s well-worn work-gloves, she said to herself, softly, “Oh mother, father, where are you?”

Hidden, crouched down low, in the dark forest, her parents watched helplessly.

“Dear, dear,” Mother Deer fretted. Then she turned to Father Deer, asking, “what should we do?”

“We’ll follow the truck,” snorted Father Deer angrily, with his frosted antlers, “and we will get our daughter back!”

The two deer began running alongside the mountaintop, straining, failing to keep up. They watched as the truck left them in a trail of fat, swirling North Dakota snowflakes. The lumbering truck disappeared, slipping over the far side of the ridge.

“Oh my, oh no!” gasped Mother Deer. She stopped, pawing the frozen ground, as her tears fell. “We’ve lost our little girl forever!”

“No, we haven’t” Father Deer said, his nostrils flaring. “We will find a way. There is always a way.”
His dark eyes glowed brightly with determination. His heavy breath sent mist streaming into the frigid, early morning air.

“We’ll find her,” Father said. “We’ll follow this road and find her, no matter how long it takes.”

“She’s just a baby,” Mother fretted. “She’s been lost, starving, lying still out there for days.” Father Deer felt the worry in her words.
“Where will he take her? Why did he take her?”

“I don’t know how she got away from us, mother,” said Father Deer, dropping his head, thinking back to that dreadful moment.

“When the hunter got too close,” he said, “our daughter panicked. She ran, instead of lying still in the grass, like I tried to teach her.”
“We ran off one way,” he said, frustrated, with his one hoof pawing at the frozen ground. “Dawn went the other way. In the confusion, I didn’t know that she wasn’t behind us. After that,” Father Deer sighed, “it was too late.”

“Do you think that he knows her name is Dawn?” Mother Deer asked. “Why, he has no idea how she got that name. He doesn’t know that she was born after we saw the most beautiful sunrise that we’d ever seen,” she said.
“Dawn’s miracle then, Father Deer,” she said, her voice choking up with hope, “will be when we find her, safe and sound.”

“Come on Mother,” said Father Deer, after sniffing the heavy tire tracks on the blowing snow drifting across the dirt road. “Dawn is depending on us, and we will not let her down!”

“Here’s your new home,” Big John said, opening the creaky door to his mountainside cabin. “It’s not much I know,” he said, closing it behind him, “but it will have to do, until I can figure out what to do with you.”

Dawn first sniffed the cabin air. It smelled like burnt wood. A small woodstove sat in a corner. Her bones, still shivering from the cold, welcomed the warmth that filled the room.

Then, she felt a cold nose touch the middle of her back.

Startled, she whipped around, ready to strike.

“Ah, don’t be afraid of him,” said Big John, reaching down with his giant hands. “This here’s Darwood. And Darwood here, on a good day,” Big John said, scratching the dog’s ears, “well, he’s just about the best dog ever.”

“Ugh! A dog,” Dawn said, turning away from him. “A hunting dog at that, I imagine.

“Me? A hunting dog?” Darwood laughed, barking.

“Nah, you can ask either that silly possum or the wild chipmunks that keep nosin’ around here about me. The only thing that I hunt here are squirrel and rabbit trails”

“What about him?” Dawn asked, her eyes falling on Big John.

“You’ll see,” said Darwood. “He treats me here real nice.”

Then Darwood waited as Big John poured a huge bowl of warm milk towards Dawn, sliding it over to her. Soon after, he put down another bowl filled with fresh carrots.

“Go on now,” Big John said. “Eat up. We’ve got to get your strength back. Your mama and papa are probably worried sick, wondering what’s happened to you.”

Dawn stared down at it. She sniffed both bowls, looking back up at Big John.

“See there?” said Darwood, sitting down, scratching his left ear with his back foot. “He found me in one of those animal rescue shelters. He took me in. This has been my home ever since.”

Dawn was laughing at Darwood’s words, when there came a loud knock on the door.

Big John opened the door slowly.

“Oh no,” Darwood barked to Dawn, “we’re in trouble now.”

Darwood knew the man. First, he picked up the scent of pine from his wrinkled black boots. Second, he knew him from the shiny, silver square buckle on his belt. And then there was the bright orange vest that he wore, along with an even brighter orange cap.

“Hide, Dawn,” growled Darwood. “I know him. He’s a deer hunter!”

Then, Darwood, with his teeth, picked up and covered Dawn with his wool sleeping blanket.
“Hide now!” Darwood barked.

Dawn slid beneath the thick blanket, pulling in her hooves, completely covering herself. Darwood plopped down his huge frame in front of her, hiding her.

“Howdy, Danson,” Big John said, forcing a smile. “What brings you out to this neck of the woods?”

“Deer season’s not nearly over Big John,” Dawson said with a straight face. His serious eyes began darting all over the cabin.

“Don’t I know it,” said Big John, turning, moving towards the kitchen.

“I haven’t gotten a deer all season,” Danson said. “I’m due.”

Danson’s eyes settled on Darwood. Then he squinted, focusing on the suspicious lump in the blanket. Darwood, a three-year-old Black Labrador, let out a low growl.

“I’ll get right to the point, Big John.”

“I figured you would,” Big John said, circling the small room, with the wooden floor creaking beneath his weight. He stopped directly in front of Danson, face-to-face. “You don’t know any other way.”

“Some of the other hunters,” he began, “said they saw you picking up a young deer.”

Big John threw back his head of bushy, black hair. He let go a hearty laugh.

“Why Danson, I am shocked. Yes sir, I am truly shocked. Take a good look around,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the wood stove. “Where, and why, would I hide a deer in this place?”

Danson studied him for a moment.

“Still got that mangy dog, I see,” he said, taking a couple of steps towards Darwood, bending down.

“Don’t move Dawn,” Darwood said to her, growling. Darwood felt his jaw tightening, ready to pounce on Danson. “I won’t let him hurt you. I won’t let him take you.”

Danson stood up.

“What’s he hidin’ back there, Big John?”

“Oh that? That’s Darwood’s personal stuff. Why, I bet it’s probably one of those ham bones I’ve been throwin’ his way. I know one thing for sure though- “

“What’s that?”

“Darwood, why he doesn’t normally growl at anyone. Plus, right now, he’s lookin’ at you, Danson, with crazy eyes. And a dog with crazy eyes? No sir, if I were you, I’d think long and hard about gettin’ any closer.”

Silence followed, the only sound of freezing rain tapping on the roof.

“Ah, Darwood’s nothin’ more than a mangy mutt,” Danson said finally, with a wave of his hand.
Backing off, he started towards the door.

“Now, back to that deer. You better be tellin’ me the truth, Big John,” Danson said, with one scarred hand resting on the ivory-white doorknob.

“Deer season’s a pretty big business around here. If you’ve been keepin’ wildlife on private property without permission Big John, I’ve got the name of a forest ranger that I could call right now.”

“Well Danson, “Big John said to him, moving towards the door, “I guess the boys didn’t see what they thought they saw.”

“Sure, maybe it was just somethin’ they’d seen in the fadin’ light” Danson said, walking down the wooden steps, “playin’ tricks on their eyes.”
Closing the door, Big John turned towards Darwood, letting go a long, low whistle, saying, “that was a close one.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” said Dawn, popping out from beneath the blanket, nuzzling up close to Darwood.

“That’s enough excitement for one day,” Big John said.

Then, from his cluttered bookshelf, he tossed down another old blanket. It was a bright red plaid one, on to Darwood’s bed.

“Now, there’s one blanket for each of you,” he said, before turning off the lantern’s low-burning flame.

“The fire here has about burned itself out,” Big John said in the cabin’s darkness.” But it should keep the three of us here warm tonight. I’ll figure the rest of this out,” he said, yawning, between words, “in the mornin’.”

Big John then took one last final look out of the frosted front window.

Then, something told him to take a second look.

Something was moving around out there.

He thought he caught a glimpse of a buck and a doe deer. He thought he saw an outline of both of them, up there on the mountaintop.

It seemed like they were peering down on his cabin, from the top of the ridge.
“I must be seein’ things,” he mumbled to himself, lying down for the night. “Yeah, I just must be seein’ things.”

“Will Dawn sleep well tonight?” Mother Deer asked Father Deer.

“She’s inside, Dawn will be warm tonight,” answered Father Deer. “Come on mother,” he said, heading back down on the other side of the steep ridge.

“We’ve found our daughter. She is safe. And for tonight, that’s going to have to be enough.”

The sound of the sputtering truck engine broke the quiet of early morning.

“Father,” Mother Deer said, “come quick!”

The big buck’s eyes flicked open at the sound of her frightened voice. Shaking the loose snow from his antlers, he arrived at her side in a fast trot.

The battered truck was moving.

Following the truck from the tree line from behind, they saw three heads as it sped by.There was the driver, a Black Labrador, and in the back, Dawn!

Father and Mother Deer were soon running next to Big John’s truck. They were running faster than they’d ever run before. Their heartbeats now were beating as one.

“Where’s he taking Dawn?” Mother Deer gasped.

“You go on Father Deer,” shouted Mother Deer, panting, slowing down. “I’ll catch up to you later.”

Father Deer’s eyes were ablaze with determination. Nothing, or no one could stop him now.
Hours later, the truck pulled up, stopping at a clearing at the top of a snow-covered mountain.

“That’s odd,” thought Father Deer, his thick coat covered in sweat. He watched as a second truck pulled up alongside of it, stopping. “What does he want?”

Big John rubbed clean the dirty glass on his broken side-view mirror. Then, he glanced back, looking into the cap section of his truck.
Dawn had finished her breakfast of wild red berries. Darwood sat close to her side. She liked the bowl clean.

“That Danson may be a hunter,” he said, checking his surroundings. “But his way with animals just ain’t right.”

“You two stay here,” Big John said, grabbing his toolbox. “I’ll be back, real quick.”

“Oh no, Darwood,” said Dawn, peeking over the top of the cracked dashboard. “He’s not going to leave us here all alone, is he?”

“Nah,” Darwood said, resting his head on top of Dawn’s. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but it’s going to be okay.”

Meanwhile, Danson put down his binoculars. He had seen enough.

He took heavy steps back to his truck. He picked up his rifle, resting it on the driver’s side torn front seat.
Danson dared not to get any closer to Big John’s truck.

All I have to do, thought Danson, is wait this thing out just a little bit longer. I’ve got all the time in the world to bag a deer.
In the silence, he heard a far-away tapping sound.

It sounded like a hammer on wood, maybe. It went on for about five minutes, then it stopped.

“That’s it,” Danson decided, opening the truck’s creaking door. “It doesn’t matter what’s goin’ on down there, this game is over.”

Mother Deer found Father Deer, crouching low in a soft bed of fresh snow. He looked over at her sternly. Not a word, his eyes told her, not a word.

“What is that?” she said to herself, dropping low beside him. “What could it possibly be?”

Meanwhile, Danson moved past Big John’s empty truck. He stopped, dropping down to one knee with his rifle, for a better look. In the late afternoon shadows, something was out there, but it was difficult to tell exactly what.

It seemed to have a large head, bent close to the ground, grazing.

It had to be a buck deer.

Danson squeezed the ice-cold trigger. His prey dropped in a single motion. The rifle blast echoed, skimming across the icy mountaintops.
Danson ran hard, panting. In his final few strides, his heart pounding.

Almost there, he told himself, just on the other side of this ridge, I’ll finally have my deer.

“Howdy!” Big John said. There he was, wearing his bright-orange wool cap, sitting cross-legged in hip-deep snow. Next to him, in smoldering, shattered pieces, lay a deer figure, crudely built out of pine branches.

Big John’s laugh seemed never-ending, echoing, bouncing off of one mountaintop to another.

Now, Dawn ran at full speed. She couldn’t feel her hooves touching the rock-hard, frozen ground.
Then, on the other side of the mountaintop, she saw them, standing, searching for her.

“Mother! Father!” she screamed.
She rushed towards them, nuzzling them both. “I thought that I’d never see either one of you, ever again!”

“Come on Dawn,” Father Deer said relieved, nudging her with his cold, wet nose. “Let’s get out of here, and let the humans be.”
Just now catching up, Darwood came lumbering up, circling Big John, once, twice, three times, with joy.

Danson, fussing and fuming, slammed the door on his truck, hitting the gas. He left a trail of thick clouds of black smoke behind him.
Darwood sniffed over the remains of the crudely-built wooden deer, in all of its’ splintered pieces.

Now something, he didn’t know what, told Big John to look up, up to the mountaintop.

What he saw were three deer; Father, Mother, with their daughter named Dawn, looking down on him.
And in the fading light, bowing their heads, their antlers gleamed, in their final gesture of thanks.

Then, they disappeared, in the rising mountain mist.

Big John laughed his deep-belly laugh. Darwood barked loudly, saying “so long!”

Dawn’s miracle, Big John decided, sitting before a glowing red fireplace, was the miracle of life.

With Darwood, his head resting on is knee, now fast asleep.

The End