I am a Pumpkin Bumpkin

Image from Pixabay

Story Number 13: Grapes of Irony Number 7

(Written11/8/22) 

I was impressed with the amount of pumpkin donations we received at the Children’s Visitation Center.  We wanted the children to be able to do a craft project with the pumpkins while visiting with their parents in the week leading up to Halloween.  The entire hallway of the center, both sides, was lined with small, medium and large pumpkins.  The response was good and many children and parents enjoyed decorating their pumpkins together.  But when the holiday concluded we were still saturated with pumpkins and we let staff know to please come and take them so we wouldn’t have to throw them out.  I thought of our deer at home, in Magalia, who got a winter supplement of cracked corn, carrots, and apples.  I heard deer were fond of pumpkin and my research seemed to bear this out, so I was excited that I would be able to add such a lovely addition to their menu.  That night at home, I told Greg, my partner, that I would be bringing pumpkins home for our deer.  He too thought the deer would enjoy them.

The next day, after work, I pulled my car up to the visitation center entrance and loaded six of the larger pumpkins in my car.  Driving home I thought how pleased the deer would be to get such a nice treat; something different and hardy.

When I arrived home, I informed Greg I had the pumpkins and after getting settled I told him that I was going to present the deer with their new snack.  I didn’t take any cutting utensils with me, because for as many smashed pumpkins I had seen splattered and scattered in my lifetime, I figured they would be easy to smash by just throwing them on the ground.  I got one of the pumpkins out of the car and walked down the driveway to where we fed the deer. 

I loved where we lived.  Magalia, bordering the town of Paradise, is just inside the western edge the Sierra Nevada range and is home to a variety of wildlife and magnificent ponderosa pines, cedars, and a wide variety of oaks.  We had a wonderful microclimate where we got a bit more rain and slightly cooler weather than the surrounding area, and occasional snow in the winter.  We lived on a cul-de-sac that was slightly terraced, our house on a knoll above the street and the street above the houses across from us.  It felt more open as our line of sight looked across the roofs of the houses to the west, so we had a great view for sunsets.  It was peaceful and very quiet. 

I reflected on how lucky I was to live in such a nice place as I carried the pumpkin down our slightly sloped driveway to the level feeding area between our driveway and our neighbor Joe’s driveway.  It was dark, but as I approached the feeding area, with the neighbors’ gently glowing porch lights on for just enough illumination, I could see there was a deer nibbling on the cracked corn.  “Hello,” I said in a gentle voice, “I have a wonderful treat for you.  I got you a pumpkin and there are more than just this one.”  The deer, a doe, watched me as I approached and she moved off into Joe’s yard, about eight feet away and then she stopped and turned toward me, waiting to see what I was going to do.  “I am so glad you are not leaving,” I told her.  “You are really going to like this.  I am going to break this open for you and then I will leave and you can enjoy it.”  The deer looked on and I was so happy she was not being spooked away.  I credited my warm and loving aura and calm voice as the reasons we were having this shared, wonderful, Disneyesque moment, and knew it would end with gastronomic delights that would deepen our human-deer neighbor bond.

I raised the pumpkin above my head and said, “Okay, I’m going to do it now,” as the deer watched on, seemingly intrigued and most definitely feeling the bond between us as much as I was.  Up went my arms, as if I was offering the pumpkin to the gods, and then, with some muscle behind it, and a vision of the pumpkin smashing into splendid deer-bite-sized juicy and wholesome pieces, I slammed the pumpkin to the ground.

The deer remained where she was, but the pumpkin defied my expectations and did not break into those wonderful pieces.  It did not break into any pieces.  I did not even crack.  But it did begin to move.  My attempt to fracture the pumpkin only gave it locomotion as it rolled out of the only level area toward Joe’s down-sloped driveway, and headed toward the deer. 

“Oh no,” I exclaimed, still using a calm voice.  “I did not mean for that to happen,” I explained to the deer, who, strangely, was still standing calmly in Joe’s yard, her head cocked to one side in curiosity, watching me and waiting for the promised reward to come forth from my odd performance.

The pumpkin gained momentum and I counseled the deer in my best social worker voice, “It’s okay.  You don’t need to be afraid.  I am going to get the pumpkin.”  The pumpkin rolled and wobbled as only a husky gourd could.  And while its wobble gave it a menacing appearance, any gunnery sergeant would have been proud of its perfect trajectory as it headed straight toward the deer, who was now becoming alarmed as this bulbous, ellipsoidal monster was clearly after it.

“You don’t need to be afraid.”

And after the deer that damn pumpkin was, as if it had become possessed.  The deer turned and ran down Joe’s driveway and the pumpkin gained speed and rolled after the deer and I ran after the pumpkin, calling out to the deer, “No, don’t go.  It’s going to be okay.  Don’t worry, it’s not going to hurt you.”  But that stupid pumpkin was sending a contradictory message as it had so much speed behind it I could not catch up to it, though I tried.  The deer, now panicked, shot off across the street and the pumpkin had so much motivity behind it it rolled after the deer with increasing velocity.  Being a large pumpkin, its heft powered it and it continued to roll after the deer who ran into the yard of the neighbor Glenn who live below the street, thus allowing the pumpkin to gain even more momentum as it crested the top of Glenn’s property and then picked up a tremendous pace and continued to give chase as it bumped and rolled down the front yard.  The deer was now leaping and vaulting herself across Glenn’s yard, that panic-driven springy bounding that deer do when they are being pursued by threatening foes and predators, with the dastardly pumpkin at her heels, as if it had a homing device inside.  The deer went around Glenn’s house into his backyard where I could hear her crashing through the brush into the night.  “I am sorry,” I called after her.  The pumpkin finally lost its steam and rolled to a lazy and satisfied stop, gently and innocently against Glenn’s house, 100 feet from the deer’s feeding area.  I looked at it with hatred, as if it was the villain in that Disney tale I had longed for, but there was no happy ending here.  I took the pumpkin back to my yard and really gave it the what for, slamming it hard into the ground, but is still did not yield its desired flesh and guts, but remained steadfastly intact, and it sat there and mocked me.

I entered my house dejected and told Greg what had happened.  The next day he took a carving knife and cut open the pumpkin.  He informed me the pumpkin was very difficult to cut, so I should not be so hard on myself about what had transpired.  Greg has exceptional knife skills, being a restaurant manager and superb cook, so that pumpkin was well-butchered for our deer.  Despite Greg’s ministrations, the dismantled pumpkin-cum-tank remained, untouched by any critter in the neighborhood and ultimately all six, large pumpkins ended up in our trash.

And thus, The Universe reminded me, once again, about best laid plans.  Luckily the deer still came to feed on the cracked corn, carrots and apples, so that relationship was not permanently damaged, though I felt a twinge of sadness when I saw the deer for the pumpkin had ironically shattered, not itself, but any dream of a deeper connection with the deer.  I have not completely forgiven pumpkins and I do make sure to bite down extra hard every time I am having a piece of pumpkin pie, as if to remind The Universe who is really in charge here.  But I know better.  I am still expecting to get that pumpkin pie in my face someday.

Even this handsome buck would not partake of the pumpkin…no one would!