Enzo Bunag

Feeding Deer in Nara, Japan by Enzo Bunag

I walked out of the dark, tall, building with a downward sloped roof and pointed corners in Nara, Japan, and I felt the brightness of the outdoors assault my eyes and the brisk temperature that occurs during the season of fall in Japan. Similar to what fall is like in northern America, I felt the chilly, soft breeze blowing on my face and the cool temperature of the air. Slowly, as my eyes adjusted to the light outside, I saw the cloudy, gray, overcast sky staring back at me.

“Come on, Enzo!” my dad called to me, beckoning me to follow him.

I clasped my dad’s hand tightly as he led me into a green, flat park sprinkled with wooden benches, trees bearing orange, red, and yellow leaves, and patches of dirt that deer were standing on. Unbeknownst to me, this park was a tourist attraction where tourists would feed tamed deer, and my parents decided to visit this attraction while we were on vacation in Japan. As my father led me to a nearby deer, I felt the electric jolt of pure joy and excitement coursing through my four-year-old veins and running through every cell of my body. It felt like I wasn’t moving fast enough; I was so excited to feed the deer that it was almost like time sped up around me.

When we reached the deer, my dad opened the box of crackers he was holding and handed a couple to me. Excitedly, I received them and held them out on the palm of my hand towards the deer. The deer slowly moved its head towards my hand and began to eat the crackers. As it ate from my hand, I felt its warm, moist breath on my hand and its wet tongue licking my hand for crackers. While petting it with my other hand, I felt its rough, coarse, brown fur. I giggled, for the licking of the deer tickled the palm of my hand slightly. The smell of the deer, which is similar to the smell around horses, flowed into my nostrils. The smell was not particularly pleasant, but it was not particularly bad either; it was simply the smell of nature.

While this was happening, I glanced over to my right and saw my four-year-old twin brother. My brother was strangely grabbing the deer, with his arms up and over the torso of the deer that he was feeding. The deer quite obviously felt unsafe, and it slowly inched away from my brother.

“Joey,” my dad called to my brother, “Be gentle with the deer!”

After the crackers in my hand had been consumed, I saw another deer standing near us. A pang of pity went through me; I felt bad that the deer was standing all alone.

“There’s another one standing in the dirt!” I told my dad urgently.

“We’re all out of crackers, bud,” my dad informed me.

“But I want to feed the other one standing in the dirt!” I exclaimed in an even more urgent tone while frowning up at my dad in perplexion.

“Okay, Enzo. We can buy more crackers for the deer,” my dad said.

Back we went into the tall, dark building that we had emerged from a few moments before. As we fell into the long line to buy crackers for the deer, I felt a giant smile on my face. Interacting with the deer had made me happy. I was fascinated with the deer simply because of the fact that it was there and that it was a creature of nature that was tangible and right in front of my eyes. Instead of complaining as we waited in a seemingly infinitely long line, I remained optimistic and joyous; I couldn’t wait to feed more deer.