Hi, All, I am Laetitia, a proud graduate of the first CAMN class—presently inactive but dues-paying and loving to follow the fantastic contributions you folks are making and the stories you are creating for present and future Arkansans.
I took this picture of an elegant buck from my back sun porch in midtown Little Rock, a bit west of Rebsamen Park Road and surrounded on 2-1/2 sides by forest. These handsome juveniles entranced me—there were four. My neighbor later saw a gang of eight bucks there. I know it should be called a “herd,” but just wait.
Soon after my excited photo shoot, I began to notice the absence of two sweet potato vines, a Red Maple,a couple of Dragonwing Begonias, and several clumps of Hosta here and there. It is worth noting that on all but the Hosta the stems were left intact, ghostly green skeletons.
We pick tomatoes, deer pick leaves—if we are lucky, they will replenish themselves. I have to admit that I was roundly steamed. No more than hairy, horned farmers they are!
What cooled me off was the wonderful poem that follows, by America’s incoming Poet Laureate. It is taken from her extraordinary book of poetry FLAMINGO WATCHING, Copper Beach Press, 1994, $9.95.
DEER, by Kay Ryan
To lure a single swivel ear,
one tentative twig of a leg,
or a nervous tail here,
is to mark this place
as the emperor’s park,
rife, I say rife, with deer.
For if one leaf against the littered floor
be cleft with the true arc,
all this lost ground, and more,
becomes a park. Everywhere
the nearest deer signals the nearest dark.
A buck looks up: the touch of his rack
against wet bark whispers a syllable
singular to deer; the next one hears
and shifts: the next head stops
and lifts; deeper and deeper into the park.
You know where to find me. I live in the emperor’s park.
Laetitia East
