The Magical Deer(James Sullivan) The Magical Deer

John was new to the West Woods of Wiltshire. He had moved there with his father and mother, who both had heart disease, and needed to stay away from the stress of London where they previously lived. They had bought a little cottage in the village of Fyfield, which was only about a mile away from Marlborough which was convenient as it was within walking distance of both nature and shopping-the perfect mix.

But one day, John decided he wanted to go out for a walk in the woods, just to really get to grips with the place. He made that life-changing decision when he was sitting in a beautiful little deckchair in the garden of their new cottage, when he suddenly decided 'I'm human. I'm with nature. I can't sit here all day reading. This book is make-believe, nature isn't.'

So he went in and told his parents he was going out, and he proceeded to walk into the woods. It was spring, in late April, but still chilly as the air had not yet got out of the bewitchment of winter yet, so he wore a coat, which would prove life-saving later on. The sky was clear and beautiful, with not a cloud in the sky, the cuddly little lambs roamed free in the dales, the birds chirruped in the air, and there were all sounds of life, courage, love and happiness - like what the state was of John's family. His parents were loving, caring and happy, denying their heart disease to cause them any inconvenience to their lives. So he walked into the woods, to be confronted with a parallel universe to the urban sprawls of London, which, unbelievably enough to him, was only about fifty-five miles from the woods.

But this was paradise. Bluebells, tulips, sunflowers and snowdrops, all together on the floor, like the garden of Eden. The light streamed through the tall trees, casting magnificent shadows on the ground, shimmering over the canal nearby, highlighting the beavers and rabbits that scurried along on one day next, feeding their newly-born babies some more food to satisfy their insatiable appetite. John walked freely through the woods, slowly and carefully, trying not to prick himself on brambles, to trip over dead logs, or to stamp on any innocent woodlouse or newly-sprouted flowers pushing themselves up out of the ground. This care was not so new - even in London, in Hampstead Heath, near where he used to live in Camden, he would do this - but that place was filled with jostling people and all the trees were marked there, in scientific names on placards, and the grass was fenced off, with grey, grim buildings all round - but this was much more than that. This was an excellent combination of love and care. The only other people to pass by him were perhaps an elderly couple taking a stroll in the woods, elderly and carefree in their retirement, or perhaps a laughing little child playing ball at the woods. There was no litter on the side of the pathways, no cigarette butts, but only some small compost dustbins put out gently for the public's use.

In this trance, John saw the deer. The deer was magnificent. Deer? In Wiltshire? This was abnormal. Especially in a wooded area. But, then again, it must be real, so he took a photo of it. Sure enough, it came out on the polaroid, so it was there. The deer pawed at the ground and walked away, and John followed it. He followed it into the depths of the deep, dark woods, which were peaceful, dark and quiet, but he was not afraid, even though he was only eleven. The deer was with him.

But then John couldn't get back. He found himself at a crossroads, and the deer walked round and round him, and John looked at the deer, and then he found himself unable to find which pathway led back to Fyfield, which led to Avebury, and which led to-oh god. The unknown.

And then John saw them. Saprotrophs. Mushrooms in a forest on the ground, like umbrellas shading the ants and lice from the light, that they could never see the light of day again. He knew that the deer had lured him here to be eaten by these, he could see it in the deer's eyes. So he ripped up the mushrooms, kicked the touch-me-nots, he ripped the antlers off the deer, who looked at him with pain-filled, sad, forlorn eyes.

But then he knew. He looked at those mushrooms. Beneath them, hoards of ants and moles lived. The mushrooms also provided a home for them. From dust to dust, god said, so the mushrooms actually helped god to decompose the dead material back to the dust that they came from. And the deer spoke to him in poetry in his mind:

John, my dear, what have you done,
to those little animals here?
My dear, do you not know
the extent of that ant's little fear?
They are frightened of you, vulnerable,
and these woods provide a haven for the weak,
and from the clutches of those nature-haters,
we protect and save the meek!
You come from the city, John my dear,
but you are young and brave,
so God will forgive you, just this once,
just this time, just this year.
But the lives of these ants are damaged now,
And may I ask you how,
you plan to reunite these here
and recuperate your vow?
Your vow is simple, help them grow,
built them a nice new home,
Forget my antlers, pride of my life,
They were all for the better, though.
So John, put on your best smile now,
and plant some new mushrooms here,
And leave my antlers, here and now,
To be a reminder to you all
of the strength and courage of unity,
for one day, this wood
Will not be the west woods,
but the north, the south, the west, the east,
And it shall be blessed one more by the priest.
So John, go ahead, save these woods,
What are you waiting for?

So John helped the ants build a new home, and the antlers helped him here. But the crossroads still remained-as they will to the day.

But John still didn't know his way out of the crossroads. He said to the deer 'Can you help me find my way out?'

'Yes, but only if you promise me one thing. Outside it is different than in here. I am speaking in prose now as you have learnt your lesson. The ways of the world have affected you, but now the ways of the woods have affected you. Humans are not the greatest creatures on this Earth, all of them are equal. So now I will show you out.'

So John went home.

But he realized, like everyone else in the world will at some time in their lives, that everyone is equal - and like the deer, we rely on them to live-because if the deer hadn't helped, John would have never found his way out again. He stared at the deer for too long, and lost his way. There are paths open to everyone in this way, and we must choose the right one, and the one that the voice inside your heart-in this case the deer, leads you to, is the best one.

So dears, go out into the world, and help us once more today. For now you know this tale of heart, you know that animals and humans will never part, and one more thing - mushrooms are not saprotrophs. They help god do 'dust to dust'.

Deforestation is a problem that must be solved, for millions of creatures depend on the woods for protection.

Let's help our world as best we can.

For some ideas, please email sjames@tisb.ac.in and we'll try to put some initiatives into our world for the protection of woods in the world.

Let's go!

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