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【导语】
那鹿被车撞死了。一个在狭窄山路上开车经过的人看见有东西微微一动, 就停下了车。蜷缩在死鹿旁的是头脐带未断的初生幼鹿。“我想你活的希望不大, ”开车人一边扯断脐带一边对这个小生灵说道, “但至少我要把你带到一个暖和的地方。”
【英文原文】
The Deer and the Nursing Home
The deer had been struck and killed by a car. A passing motorist on the narrow mountain road saw a slight movement and stopped. Huddled beside the dead deer was a fawn1） with the umbilical cord2) still attached. “I don’t suppose you have a chance, ”the motorist told the tiny creature as he tied off the cord, “but at least I’ll take you where it’s warm. ”
The nearest place was the powerhouse of New Jersey’s Glen Gardner Center for Geriatrics, a state institution. Maintenance men there quickly produced rags to make a bed behind the boiler for the fawn. Then they took a rubber glove, pricked pinholes3) in a finger, diluted4) some milk and offered it to the fawn, who drank eagerly.
With the men taking turns feeding the fawn, the little deer’s wobbly legs and curiosity soon grew strong enough to bring it out from its bed behind the boiler. On their breaks, the men petted and played with the baby. “If it’s a female, we’ll call her Jane Doe, ”they laughed. But it was a male, so they taught him to answer to“Frankie, ”short for Frank Buck.
Frankie became especially attached to one of the men, an electrician named Jean. On nice days, Frankie stepped outside with his new friend, enjoying the fresh air and scratches behind the ears. Sometimes other deer came out of the woods to graze. When Frankie caught their scent, his head came up.
“You’d better tie him or we’ll lose him, ”someone commented.
Jean shook his head. “He’ll know when it’s time to go, ”he said.
Frankie began following Jean on his rounds, and the slight, white-haired man followed by the delicate golden fawn soon became a familiar sight.
One day a resident, noticing Frankie waiting by a door for Jean, invited the deer in. Glen Gardner housed old people who had been in state mental hospitals and needed special care. When Frankie was discovered in side, the staff rushed to put him outside. But when they saw how eagerly one resident after another reached out to touch him, they let him stay. When Frankie appeared, smiles spread and people who seldom spoke asked the deer’s name.
Discovering a line in front of the payroll5) clerk’s window one day, Frankie companionably joined it. When his turn came , the clerk peered out at him. “Well, Frankie, ”she said, “I wouldn’t mind giving you a paycheck. You’re our best social worker.”
The deer had the run of Glen Gardner until late fall, when the superintendent noticed he was growing antlers6). Fearful he might accidentally injure a resident, the supervisor decreed banishment. Frankie continued to frequent the grounds, but as the months passed he explored farther a field. When he was a year old, the evening came when he didn’t return to the powerhouse；now he was on his own.
Still, every morning he was there to greet Jean, exploring the pocket for the treat Jean always brought, and in the afternoon he would reappear. Residents who had refused to go outside before would join him on the front lawn to scratch his ears. George, a solitary7) resident with a speech defect who didn’t seem to care if people understood him or not, taught Frankie to respond to his voice, and they often walked together.
When Frankie was two years old――a sleek creature with six-point antlers and a shiny coat――he failed to show up one April morning. Nor did he answer anyone’s calls. It was late the next day before Jean and George found him lying on a sheltered patch of ground. His right front leg was shattered, jagged splinters8) of bone jutted through the skin.
“Oh, you old donkey, ”Jean whispered. “What happened？”The deer’s eyes were clouded with pain, but he knew Jean’s voice and tried to lick his hand.
“There’s no way to set a break like that without an operation, ”said the veterinarian who examined Frankie. They would have to haul Frankie out of the woods on an improvised litter and drive him to Round Valley Veterinary Hospital, five miles away.
On the day of Frankie’s surgery, the surgeon, Dr. Gregory Zolton, told Jean, “You’ll have to stay with me while I operate. I’ll need help. ”Jean’s stomach did a flip-flop, but he swallowed hard and nodded. During the two-hour procedure, Dr. Zolton took bone from Frankie’s shoulder to make a graft between the broken bones and then screwed a steel plate across it.
“He said a leg that wasn’t strong enough to run on wasn’t any good to a deer, ”recalls Jean.
After the surgery, they took Frankie to an unused horse stable on Glen Gardner’s grounds, and Jean sat in the straw beside the recovering deer. He stroked Frankie’s head and held him whenever the deer tried to struggle to his feet. Finally, as the sun was coming up, Jean took his own stiff bones home, cleaned up and went to work.
By the seventh day, Jean called Dr. Zolton to say it was impossible to hold Frankie still for his antibiotic9) injections. The surgeon laughed. “If he’s that lively, he doesn’t need antibiotics. ”But he warned that Frankie must be kept inside for eight weeks. If he ran on the leg before it knitted, it would shatter.
“Whenever anyone went to visit him, Frankie showed how eager he was to get out,”recalls Jean. “He‘d stand there with his nose pressed against a crack in the door. He smelled spring coming. ”
When word had come that Frankie had survived the operation, the residents’ council at Glen Gardner had called a meeting. Mary, the president, told the group, “There’s no operation without a big bill. Now, Frankie’s our deer, right？”The residents all nodded. “So we’ve got to pay his bill. ”They decided to take up a collection and hold a bake sale.
The day Dr. Zolton’s bill arrived, Mary called a meeting. The others watched silently as she opened the envelope. “Oh, dear, ”she murmured bleakly, “we owe ＄392. ”They had managed to collect only ＄135. Not until she shifted her bifocals10) did she notice the handwriting, which read：“Paid in Full――Gregory Zolton, D. V. M. ”
When Frankie’s confinement was over, Frankie’s friends gathered by the stable door. It was mid-June and grass was knee-deep in the meadow. The buck’s wound was beautifully healed――but would the leg hold？
Jean opened the barn door. “Come on, Frankie, ”he said softly. “You can go now. ”Frankie took a step and looked up at Jean.
“It’s all right, ”Jean urged him. “You’re free. ”Suddenly Frankie understood. He exploded into a run, flying over the field like a greyhound, his hooves barely touching the ground.
“He‘s so glad to be out, ”Mary said wistfully, “I don’t think we’ll ever see him again. ”
At the edge of the woods, Frankie swerved. He was coming back. Near the stable he wheeled again. Six times he crossed the meadow. Then, flanks heaving, tongue lolling, he pulled up beside them. Frankie had tested his leg to its limits. It was perfect. “Good.”said George distinctly. Everyone cheered.
Soon Frankie was again waiting for Jean by the electric shop every morning. In the fall Jean put a yellow collar around Frankie’s neck to warn off hunters. The mountain was a nature preserve, with no hunting allowed, but poachers frequently sneaked in.
One day a pickup truck filled with hunters drove up to the powerhouse. When the tailgate11) was lowered, Frankie jumped down. The hunters had read about him and, spotting the yellow collar, figured it must be Frankie.
Every hunting season, George and the other people at Glen Gardner debate whether to lock Frankie in the stable for his own safety――and their peace of mind. But each fall, the vote always goes against it. Frankie symbolizes the philosophy of Glen Gardner, which is to provide care but not to undermine independence.
“A deer and a person, they each have their dignity, ”Jean says. “You mustn’t take their choices away. ”
So Frank Buck, the wonderful deer of Glen Gardner, remains free. He runs risks, of course, but life is risk, and Frankie knows he has friends he can count on.
□by Jo Coudert
