Clever Magazine, Vol. 6, #2 "An Unexpected Visitor " (www.clevermag.com)

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An Unexpected Visitor

by Barbara E. Riccio

I am a native of Watertown, New York, 48 year’s old, married and have two adult sons. Four years ago I began my college education, and graduated in 2003 from Skidmore College with a bachelor’s in Business Administration. During the course of my studies, I discovered that my interests were quite varied. I took courses in art, literature, anthropology, history, environmental science and more. Various professors, local artists and family members have encouraged me to continue working in these fields. To date, I have one ink drawing that has been published, and this is my first piece of writing to be published. In addition to my interests in art and writing, I enjoy reading, listening to music, gardening, traveling and nature.

It is just a couple of weeks before Christmas and once again I am busy with the time consuming task of wrapping Christmas presents. This is one holiday tradition I am not fond of. Therefore, to make wrapping gifts a little more interesting I usually pop one of the many Christmas videos I have collected over the years into the VCR. This little ritual makes me forget the task at hand and gets me thinking of the spirit of Christmas. Even though I watch these same videos year after year, the countless human emotions that they portray still manage to bring tears to my eyes.

One evening while wrapping gifts I placed one of my favorite Christmas stories, entitled Prancer, into the video machine. Prancer is a heartwarming story about a little girl who discovers a real reindeer which she believes to be Santa’s one and only Prancer. As usual, the story makes me cry but gets me through my mundane wrapping job once again.

The following day is a lovely sunny winter morning and I relax at my dining room table lazily sipping a hot cup of coffee. I gaze out of the sliding glass doors at the little black and white chickadees and red headed finches competing for their breakfast. The activity of the busy birds makes birdseed spill out of the white gazebo feeder that dangles from the wooden deck rail that is festively wrapped in green garland and red bows and stands adjacent to some bare black branches of a sleeping lilac bush.

It is a tranquil scene, this frosty winter morning, with the snow-covered ground sparkling and glistening in the sun. Brightly colored Christmas bulbs and softly fallen snow adorn the five-foot Austrian pine tree that stands a short distance beyond the feeder. Scrub trees dot the wide-open field that stretches out to meet the scattered evergreens in the far distance. I view this serene picture once again from my warm perch at my dining table behind the glass doors. Not much wildlife occupies this environment which is my yard. Except for a variety of bird species, rabbits, skunks, possum, raccoon and an occasional coy dog, it is a rather quiet neighborhood.

Suddenly, my tranquil picture is disturbed when, in a flash, a relatively large white creature streaks quickly by the glass doors and out of sight again! “What was that? What could it be?” I gasp as I instantly sprang to my feet and quickly moved towards the glass doors for a closer look! At first glance, It looked like a goat, I thought, but that’s a silly notion. There are no goats in this little suburban village! It must be a large dog I decided. As I neared the doors, there appeared before me an all white deer standing still as a statue in the snow. I stood in amazement looking at the white deer, something I have never seen before in my life. Immediately the movie I had watched the night before came to mind.

“Gosh, this deer looks a lot like Prancer!” I exclaimed, laughingly out loud.

I have seen many North Country deer in my life but nothing the likes of this one. It had no antlers and its white coloring blended into the snow that surrounded it. Its snout was not long and slender like our native deer, but rather, it was fat and short, “just like Prancer’s nose,” I giggled to myself. It appeared healthy and rather stocky in stature, resembling a reindeer.

Something must have startled my new discovery because its tail suddenly stood up and began fanning back and forth as it bounded away in the snow, zig-zaging across the open field towards the evergreens beyond.

I must tell someone right away I thought. I quickly ran upstairs to awaken my husband and tell him about my enchanting encounter.

“You won’t believe what I just saw in our backyard,” I blurted out.

“What is it?” he yawned half-awake.

“I just saw a reindeer!” I exclaimed excitedly.

“You mean a deer,” he responded sleepily.

“No, I know what I mean! It was a reindeer as it looked like no deer I have ever seen before!”

“You must be mistaken,” he muttered as he rolled over in partial slumber. “Nothing like that around here.”

A few mornings later my once doubting husband became a believer! He bellowed up the stairs to me, “Quick, quick Barb come down here - your friend is back!” In a flash I jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs. Sure enough there it was again. As we stood motionless at the glass doors, careful not to scare it off, we observed that Prancer was a she due to its lack of horns. This time of year all male deer are sporting a full rack of antlers.

The days grew colder and shorter as Christmas day drew near. The white deer continued her visits both night and day. At nighttime she often bedded down near the Austrian pine tree, but more frequently she lay under the raised wooden deck beneath the dangling bird feeder. Any vegetation that once had poked out of the snow gradually disappeared. She ate everything in sight. She especially liked feeding on the long bending slender stalks of the forsythia bush which by now was reduced to an uneven clump of golden brown sticks that jutted out of the white snow with their tops chewed off. Often she would stand craning her neck in reach of the birdseed from the little feeder.

We grew concerned for her welfare, as she was so very much alone. We decided to place a call to the Department of Environmental Conservation for some professional advice.

“I’d like to report a white deer living in our back yard,” I said. “Have you received similar reports of white deer sightings?”

“No, we haven’t received any calls,” the officer replied.

“An all white deer you say?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” I answered.

“Well its not entirely impossible, but it is rare for this area. Sounds like an albino.”

“What do you suggest we do with her?”

“Nothing needs to be done.” “She can take care of herself.” “Just enjoy her,” was his final reply.

Her natural food supply was dwindling so we supplemented her diet with deer pellets that we purchased from a nearby feed store. She became so accustomed to me that at one time, with deer pellets in hand, I was able to slowly walk within five feet of her before she skittishly bounded away. “Boy, does this picture look familiar,” I thought to myself referring back to the Prancer video!

More time passed and Christmas day was finally only one day away. On Christmas Eve day we left to visit relatives living out of town. Our Christmas pet would be on her own for a few days. When we returned home I anxiously explored the back yard for hoof prints and droppings. To my delight I found evidence that she was still nearby.

Finally, about two weeks after Christmas, our unexpected guest returned no more. Fortunately, I had taken some snapshots to always remember her by. Her leaving saddened me, but at the same time, I knew it was for the best, as she couldn’t stay with us forever. She needed to be with her own kind. Though I’d never seen this particular species around here before I had hoped that she would link up with and be accepted by a wild native herd of deer.

I know I could probably explain the entire incident away by suggesting that my visitor was, in reality, a European fallow deer that had escaped from a dreaded nearby deer farm thus explaining her trusting nature of humans. I decided, however, “What fun is that?” Instead, I choose to believe that not everything that happens to us in life needs to be logically explained away. I’d like to think that my unexpected visitor was a gift given to me, in good humor, for keeping alive my belief in the magic of the spirit of Christmas!