His season’s end…

Wounded badly
he lay down
…and waited.

He was bleeding profusely
…and in great pain.
Without a single doubt, he knew.
For him the sun would never rise…again.

The young buck had simply taken him by surprise
His once mighty strength was sapped.
He’d been gouged in the chest by an antler
And his own mighty rights had just snapped.

No more would he be the dominant male
This time, the rut he had lost
The harem of females that had for so long been his
Belonged to the young buck while he paid the cost.

________________________

As I watched through my sights I wondered
Do they suffer the traumas as we do
A look of great sadness passed over his face
Imagination of mine…or perhaps a small clue?

©Joe Wilson – His season’s end…2015

I was inspired to write this poem after watching Autumn Watch on BBC
on Tuesday 3 November 2015 which featured footage of an annual rut.

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