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 SNYDERA 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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