Life on a farm. Sometimes, animals die
and sometimes, you have to kill them.
This morning, our dogs caught a young deer
and critically wounded her. The bloodcurdling cries
woke my wife and I, and as I ran outside screaming
our dogs names, I feared the worst;
the sheep. I thought they got the sheep. The goats
can fend for themselves, but the sheep are very much like deer.
The dogs were just doing their job protecting the farm,
and the fawn was just doing her job eating greens, trying to survive.
Thankfully, I still have my grandfathers old buck-knife
and thankfully she died quickly, but those eyes…
those eyes were staring right at me as I did what had to be done,
so much more personal than with a gun.