The Deer Council
A short speculative piece about abundance, restraint, and the absence of councils.
The biologist catalogued the recession of the trees. She measured the erosion of the soil. She counted the new fawns of the herd. She concluded the deer population was experiencing an explosion. Maybe something happened to the natural predators. Maybe something had caused the food source to become abundant. No matter the cause, the peaceful, docile herd was experiencing an unprecedented period of growth and abundance and peace.
The scene reinforced the hypothesis. White tailed fawns playfully leaping through a meadow of wildflowers, surrounded by a forest of fir trees, framed by a purple mountain range. The biologist could not imagine a more serene depiction. She wondered what a deer scientist would see, should one exist.
Would a deer scientist notice the lack of predators and violence had caused the population to grow? Would they calculate that the growth was overconsuming the grasses? Causing the soil to erode, killing the trees, altering the landscape of the forest. Would they theorize the forest may not recover? Even when hard times struck the deer, the elasticity of the system might already be stretched too far.
Would they conclude that it is not too late for the deer to form a deer council? Which could implement the instruments to fight their innate nature, display restraint, control their population, and limit their consumption to match what could be regenerated? Would a council be convinced that action needed to be taken? Would they declare goals and create laws with teeth?
The biologist had a bad habit of anthropomorphizing her research subjects. There are no deer scientists. There will never be a council of deer. No one will ever ask a herd of deer to behave against their nature. If there is an abundance, the deer will consume it. If there is a greater abundance, they will expand, consuming more. If there was a scarcity, the deer would die until their population could be supported by the ecosystem. If there was enough damage, the herd might go extinct. A sort of balance restored.
The biologist felt sad, for a moment. Sad that there could be no council of deer. Sad that the deer’s only salvation would arrive as violence. Maybe the wolves would return. Maybe hunters will thin the herd. Maybe a timely forest fire will force them to migrate to a more elastic ecosystem. Maybe, she thought, they’ll elect a deer council.
She finishes her work.
It is unseasonably warm for December, she sheds layers and climbs into her pick-up truck, pushing aside emission test notices from her seat. She eats a granola bar, crinkles the wrapper, and adds it to the pile of refuse accumulated in her door pocket.
She rolls down the windows. Wind fills her hair and the fading sunlight catches the natural highlights. She cruises down the winding pass.
When the scent of agriculture and ranching reaches her, she rolls the window back up.
She drives on, the road stretching endlessly ahead.