Season of the Deer

Last updated on: December 9, 2009 at 8:33 am by Cat Chapin-Bishop

Season of the Deer 2009-12-09T08:33:00-04:00 Cat Chapin-Bishop

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

The nearness of Yule has a different feel to it this year, our first year living by the woods again.

Since my back injury, I have spent a lot of time walking in those woods, alone, or with Peter and our dogs. Pain pills help; the heating pad and orthopedic chair help more; however, the only thing that really banishes the pain for any length of time is walking, particularly outdoors. I love the woods and walking in any case, but I’ve really been putting on the miles this year.

One thing I figured out a couple of weeks ago, when I found a spent shell along the trail, is that I’m not alone in these woods even when I am unaccompanied. It’s hunting season, and these woods are wild enough and deep enough that they are in regular use by hunters.

On a practical level, that means that I’m back to wearing special Pagan garb again: in this case, a blaze orange women’s hunting vest. (It has marvelous pockets, intended for game birds, which are waterproof and easy to clean: perfect for whatever trash I may find along the trail. Very 21st Century Druid.)

On a spiritual level, that means I am more aware of the season of the god than ever.

Last weekend, I set out early on Saturday morning for a “proper walk”–a long one, on the wilder trails. I had just reached the limit of the old farm’s land, when I heard the sharp, barking report of a gun. A few minutes later, I heard two more shots echo off the hillsides.

They made me catch my breath. “Did you kill the god today?” I heard an inner voice asking.

The horned god is the god who rejoices in the strength and potency of the young stag in summer, and who embraces the lust, both for breeding and for life, in the autumn rut.

And he is also the meat in the pot, the life that dies to feed the people–and the new life, silent and half-formed, hidden in the womb.

At Christmas time, Christians celebrate the birth of their god who dies for the love of his people. At Yuletide, I can hear the crack of the guns, as our god, the Lord of the Animals, dies for love, too. Every hunter, Pagan or cowan, who kills the deer and eats his flesh participates in that oldest of mysteries: life that dies so that life can live.

I’ve known that for a very long time. But I haven’t connected it with Yule before. I haven’t needed to take personal precautions against a stray bullet myself before. This time of year, the danger in the woods is quite real–more so for the antlered deer than for me, but I can feel it, like a chill wind blowing through the bare branches of the trees.

It’s an old mystery, made sharp, fresh, and real, by the echoing sound of the guns.

In a few days, the main deer season will end, though muzzle-loaders will be permitted to hunt until the end of December. And in a less than two weeks, the waning of the year will end, and the sun will begin its long journey back to us. As the sun returns, the new life in the bellies of the pregnant does will also grow, and the wise old stags whose antlers have been shed will bed down with the herd as the Old Man of the Woods, watching over the new life to come.

The god dies and the god is reborn, over and over and over again.

Photo Credit: Jerry Segraves

The tragedy is how easily we forget what is given to us. The tragedy is that we forget that each life, of deer or fellow human, is at one and the same time a vessel of the god, and a poor fellow-mortal, like ourselves, longing to live, longing to feel the returning sun on our faces.
It’s the season of sacrifice, of the sacrifice that comes before the return of the light.

The least we can do is be grateful, and be aware. Try not to forget what you owe to the Lord of Life. (That would be… everything, boys and girls. All we have, all we are, is on loan to us. Nothing more.)

Uncategorized

Previous Post

December 6, 2009

Waylaid by a Dragon

Next Post

December 23, 2009 Fire in the Webs

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category Cat's posts Peter's posts Uncategorized

Select a Month March 2017 February 2017 November 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 July 2013 June 2013 March 2013 February 2013 December 2012 November 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 April 2012 February 2012 January 2012 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 March 2011 February 2011 January 2011 December 2010 November 2010 October 2010 September 2010 August 2010 July 2010 June 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 February 2010 January 2010 December 2009 November 2009 October 2009 September 2009 August 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 March 2009 February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 September 2008 August 2008 July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 July 2000

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz