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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile


03.19.06, sunday afternoon

TWO FAWNS THAT DIDN'T SEE THE LIGHT THIS SPRING
GARY SNYDER

A friend in a tipi in the
Northern Rockies went out
hunting white tail with a
.22 and creeped up on a few
day-bedded, sleeping, shot
what he thought was a buck.
"It was a doe, and she was
carrying a fawn."
He cured the meat without
salt; sliced it following the
grain.

A friend in the Northern Sierra
hit a doe with her car. It
walked out calmly in the lights,
"And when we butchered her
there was a fawn--about so long--
so tiny--but all formed and right.
It had spots. And the little
hooves were soft and white."





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