The Christmas Deer
by
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The snow was falling faster now; and, even though Father John knew that he should return to the rectory, he continued to follow the buck prints. He was hoping that Lenny had not fatally wounded the deer, leaving good meat to rot on the mountain. But the prints continued to be normal, indicating a healthy deer, traveling at a fast pace. After a half hour of walking, the priest leaned up against a tree and surveyed the surrounding area. At first, he saw nothing. Then, he saw something move between the trees up ahead. Suddenly, a ten-point buck stepped out into a small clearing, in full view, not more than about fifty yards away. The animal showed no sign of fright, but merely stood quietly, watching the priest. Father John recognized the deer to be the same buck, who appeared at the convent house on previous occasions. Through his binoculars, he was able, once again, to identify the same broken tip of one antler, which was very blunt (possibly shot off or broken in a fight). He lowered his binoculars and whispered, "Well, hello again. Are you following me, or am I following you?" Neither the man nor the deer moved for a few minutes. Then the buck turned and walked away a few steps, stopped and looked back at the priest. Father John took a few steps forward and stopped. The buck walked on, stopped and looked back again. The priest took a few more steps. They continued in this manner, until the priest found himself following the deer for quite a distance. "Why don’t you run?" Father John whispered. "You've obviously seen me. I'm up wind of you, and I know you have my scent. Why don't you run??" In all of his years of hunting, Father John never knew a deer to behave in such a strange manner, unless it was someone's domesticated pet. He knew that, sometimes, deer follow a man out of curiosity, but always at a safe distance. More likely, they just run away and stay out of sight. Suddenly, the buck stopped short and turned completely around. Father John stood next to a tree, looking through his binoculars and waiting for the next move. But what he saw through the binoculars was more than just the deer. He saw smoke, rising from beyond the trees, and realized that it was coming from the chimney of a hunter's cabin. The snow was still falling heavily, but he could see the outline of a cabin through the trees. Then he moved the binoculars back to where the deer stood. The buck was gone! The priest looked all around the area, but could not locate the animal. As Father John walked toward the cabin, he could see light through a window, and thought it was probably from a fire on the hearth. He knocked on the door several times, but there was no answer. He peered through the window, but saw no one. He reasoned that, since the hunting season was over, whoever was using the cabin probably shouldn't have been there and may have left in a hurry without completely extinguishing the fire. There was no lock on the front door of the cabin, and it opened easily. Father John stepped into the cabin and shut the door. Leaning his walking stick against the wall, he took off his hat and gloves, and rubbed his hands together before the fire. He was about to pull up a chair and sit down, when a voice behind him said, "Don't turn around. Just keep your hands up where I can see 'em!"
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About the Book
The story of The Christmas Deer takes place at a school and convent in the foothills of the Blue Mountain region of Pennsylvania during the Christmas season of 1950, where the lives of three children and several people are changed by the mysterious appearance of a whitetail deer. Everyone involved in this Christmas event is profoundly affected by it, and the Christmas Deer becomes a legend and a mystery. A surprise ending reveals much about the lives of some of the characters and further highlights the legend of the Christmas Deer. Not just "another Christmas tale," The Christmas Deer is a story for all seasons. This mysterious and inspiring legend endures as a beautiful reminder that our everyday lives can be changed by a force much greater than we could ever imagine.
About the Author
Nancy Thomsen was born in Washington, D.C., in 1934, and was raised by talented parents, who encouraged her to pursue artistic endeavors (music, art, dance and journalism). In senior high school, she submitted brief articles for the school newspaper with encouragement from the editor and other students. After graduation, in 1952, she took a medical secretarial course, worked in the medical field for several years, and eventually phased into other business areas, as well. During this time, her writing took a low priority to work, family and other endeavors. In 1987, she began to write again; but it was still difficult to find enough time. When she retired in April of 1993, it became increasingly easier to spend time with her computer. Over the years, avid reading, travel and sports (ice skating, swimming, water skiing, riding, fox hunting, hiking, etc.) have provided much background information for writing about a variety of subjects. A close association with horses and fellow equestrians has given her a wealth of material for future works; and her love of God, people, animals and nature will always be reflected in her work, whether in poetry, articles, or story form. AWARDS: Award of Merit Certificate for poem, Ware Fox from World of Poetry, March 1988. Golden Poet Award from World of Poetry, September 1988.