Those Eyes

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.



About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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