The drive to our neck of the woods where Roberto and I live takes us through hills and vineyards by way of a very curvy country road where there are plenty of wild boar, native fallow deer, porcupines, wolves and various other smaller mammals, not to mention birds and reptiles. Our main concern when driving at night, or any time after sunset, is to be on the lookout for those animals that instinctually jump out or wander in front of our headlights. One night when driving back home, we saw a beautiful young fallow oddly resting on the side of the road with its head cropped up, ears pointed, looking straight at us. We knew it had to be injured to be crouching so still and not running away when we stopped the car nearby.
I wanted to rescue it, and as I got closer its huge soft eyes locked with mine in understanding. The poor thing made an effort to get up, but it was too weak, so Roberto soothed it into lying flat as he caressed its head to reassure it. In the meantime, I called our big woodsman friend who would know what to do in these cases, and dutifully said he’d be right there with his “ambulance”, a faithful 20 year-old Land Rover. But while we waited for him to arrive, the young fallow relaxed under Roberto’s caress, laid its head on his lap, and sighed its last breath.
When our friend arrived, he made sure the limp animal was actually dead and managed to pick it up to place it in the back of his Land Rover. He looked at it and said, “Now I’ve got a bit of work to do to save it”. He and his sons only eat what is farmed on local soil, or raised wild in these woods either by careful hunting or via fresh roadkill. I somehow felt better knowing he would take care of the animal in a respectful way. He is also a good cook, and to make venison or wild boar meat tender and tasty as he does takes many generations of tradition to arrive at certain delicacies. It is a feast for all of our friends when he brings over his sauces to put on our handmade pasta, or marinated meat to cook on an open fire, or roast in the wood oven with potatoes. I have to admit, I am a hypocritical vegetarian because, though I normally choose veggies over meat, I’ll allow myself a rare exception to join the festivities of the great hunts or the salvaging of roadkill.
But something intense happened to me after one of those dinners. Delicious as it was, I hesitated swallowing that tiny portion of the roasted fallow deer that our friend had so generously prepared to bring over to share with us. While lying in bed, I suddenly sat up in the middle of the night when I felt a potent energy wake within me — a strong movement coming from my core bursting through me. It was a sensation I had never felt before, as if a great leap of the wild animal escaped through me into the dark night. When all was still, and I laid there thinking what had just happened, the fallow’s last stare came back to me and I knew right then and there it would be difficult for me to swallow the spirit of a wild animal again.
Though the tradition continues, I’ve stopped describing what happened to me that night as an excuse not to taste the roadkill — I’d rather just be part of the happy environment during those feasts where the animal’s spirit is released through the boisterous laughter of others enjoying their dinner, mixed with the happy spirits of wine.
Thank you for recounting this experience, Lily. Grateful to be invited to experience this moment of tenderness, and sadness. I felt the "potent energy wake within" you the way you described it, thus something woke within me too. Warmest regards, my friend.
That is an interesting article, yet gruesome. For example, we do not eat our pets when they die. When you mentioned the "potent energy wake within" I wondered if it was food poisoning or some other reaction. The article was an interesting and moving read, but I stumbled on the word "instinctually". I would be inclined to use "instinctively". Your article reminded me of my reaction to learning that laboratory rabbits that I had sacrificed for a science project one summer--many years ago--were saved for future eating by a fellow lab worker.