A shaggy stag story
A short story for your amusement.
Drumper could smell the pumpkins that the farmer was storing in the barn. He wanted some. And anything he wanted, was his for the taking so far as he was concerned.
He ran his antlers through the bracken, covering them with the fronds, now turning orange in the autumn light. He struck a pose and stamped his hoof to get the attention of the herd, bellowing that he was the greatest. In his mind’s eye he could see the whole herd following him. But in reality he did not have many followers any more, and never led the whole herd. Just a few who had followed him when he was a handsome young buck (one of several) and were stuck in their ways, and a few bucks who were too young to challenge him and too adventurous or rebellious to meekly follow the majority.
He hadn’t bothered to protect his harem from the advances of other males, and they had left him one by one. He tried to mount one nearby, but was contemptuously butted away by a younger stag. He went back to posing and pointing towards the farm.
Most of the herd, however, remembered how often going his way led to muddy trampled pastures too close to man or areas where there was not enough food for all. They all pointed in the direction of a newly harvested field where there should be food to be had, in the opposite direction to where he wanted to go. And seeing they were in the majority, they headed off in that direction and all the rest of the herd followed.
When it was clear they weren’t going his way he chased after them, intending to get to the front and act as leader. But they were crowding through an open gate and he was faced with a lot of rear ends with sharp hooves attached, which kicked if he tried to push his way through.
Once through, they ran across the open field and jumped over the fence the other side.
Drumper was getting on in years, though he did not admit it to himself, and was still at the rear when he got to the fence. He moved to the side, hoping to leap right past the stragglers, gave an almighty leap from too far back, just clearing the fence, but landing in the muddy wallow made by a herd of cattle. Tripping and sprawling, he ended up covered in mud as the herd eagerly ran on to the newly harvested pumpkin field, where there were plenty of rejects to be had.
He was a sorry, soggy, shaggy stag.