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Monarch of the Back Country - Part 2

Theo S. Bernard

The deer instinctively preferred the cover of the valleys, and climbing up into the open ground above the treeline made the two young stags nervous, but also excited. The saddle brought them to a high valley. Snowy peaks rose on either side, and a string of small tarns glittered among the tussock grass along the valley floor. A scattering of giant boulders lay here and there, plucked from the mountains by the icy fingers of ancient glaciers. In the distance, the land dropped away into a much larger valley, where a braided river wound its way across grassy flats, between steep forest-covered mountains.

Alban pushed eagerly ahead, and Dairmid followed him down the slope to the nearest lake. Here he discovered succulent new growth springing from the marshy ground, and he stopped to nibble. When he looked up again, he was alone. He sidled round a huge boulder, and then froze as a new and frightening smell reached him.

Alban stood at the far side of the lake, head held high, looking down the valley. But the smell came from nearby. A man stood in the shadows behind a boulder, with a rifle raised to his shoulder and pointed at Alban. Dairmid had never seen a man before, but deep and ancient instincts filled him with fear at the sight of this strange creature with its cruel-looking stick. The man was very close, but looking the other way. Dairmid stood perfectly still as the instinct to flee balanced the instinct to remain hidden. The scene before him seemed to be frozen on a knife-edge, about to crash down into a roaring chasm. Then the man relaxed, and lowered his rifle. He stared across the lake a moment longer as Alban wandered off across the tussock. Then he turned and walked away through the rocks, heading up the valley.

The instinct to run finally won out, and Dairmid bolted across the swampy ground, around the lake, and over the tussock grass. Alban turned as he approached. The other stag had not seen the man, but he sensed Dairmid's alarm and leaped after his friend. Together they bounded around a ridge and down into a side gully, and they didn't stop until they were hidden by the rocky walls of a steep gorge. Here they rested and drank from an icy stream.

To live as a grazing animal is to live in constant fear of predators. To be ever alert and watchful is their normal state. Fear comes quickly, and passes as quickly. The smell of the wolf or the hunter brings terror but also the thrill of survival; to live another day is triumph. The individual will fight and strive for his or her own betterment, but their deep knowledge also reassures them that each individual is merely one cycle in the Eternal Herd. Life was easy here amongst the mountains of Te Waipounamu, the land of the Greenstone rivers. There were no wolves to harry the pack. They knew only the sudden and inexplicable death brought by the hunter's rifle. Nonetheless, their ancient instincts held true.

So it was that Dairmid and Alban soon forgot their fear and journeyed onwards with a renewed excitement. By nightfall they had scrambled down the gully until they left the bare tussock land behind and reached the shelter of the beech forest. Here they rested. As dusk fell, the bellowing roar of distant stags carried to them in the still air. Both the young males were stirred by the sound, and inspired to lock antlers in a friendly tussle. Somewhere down in the valley, a new world of opportunity awaited them. They didn't understand it, but they both felt drawn to it.

Early the next morning, their instinct drove them on. They made their way down and down through the forest, skirting steep cliffs and criss-crossing the stream. By the middle of the day they had reached flatter ground, where they rested and grazed on good grass. Vague trails and old droppings told them that other deer had been there. They resumed their travels in the early evening, and once again the voices of other stags came to their ears, much nearer now.

Then they caught the scent of other deer. Dairmid's first reaction was comfort, for it reminded him of the security of the herd. But there was more to it. On top of the familiar herd scents, he discerned a different aroma. It was familiar from the previous autumn, and yet he had not appreciated it before. Now it stirred the hormones of his young body, promising something spectacular and glorious. Alban shook his antlers, and Dairmid noticed his friend twitching with excitement. Together they pushed forward through the forest.

Dairmid and Alban emerged from the trees onto a grassy flat, and Dairmid stopped to look. A herd of six hinds stood together in the evening light, and Dairmid was struck for the first time by their beauty and majesty. Young calves played around the fringes of the group, but Dairmid barely saw them. He had eyes only for the hinds. They were much the same as his birth herd, of course, and yet they were different. They promised excitement rather than familiarity.

Some of the hinds had seen the strangers, and turned their way. They watched with an aloof interest. Dairmid raised his head and strode forward, his small antlers held proudly. Now a new scent came to his nose, rank and strong. He turned as another stag strode out of the beach trees and trotted across the grass. This male was several years older than Dairmid, two hands taller and in prime condition. His rampant smell stirred the young stag's blood, urging him to turn and challenge the older stag. The stag drew up to him, and now Dairmid could see the muscles ripple beneath his sleek flanks. His head held massive 12 point antlers which dwarfed Dairmid's small set. The stag stalked along beside him, gaze swivelled to look down on the newcomer, daring him to make any aggressive move.

Dairmid's bravado evaporated. He lowered his head in submission as he turned away from the hinds and trudged back towards the trees. The older stag stopped and pawed the ground, then tossed his head and gazed towards Alban, who followed Dairmid's lead and turned back towards the trees in submission. The stag raised his head and bellowed after them, his roar filled with triumph and disdain.

Dairmid and Alban loitered. They tried to approach the hinds several more times, but each time, the older stag was there to block them. There was plenty of good feed to be found among the scattered trees at the edge of the grassy meadow, but the young stags felt restless and too distracted to eat much. The smell of the herd kept drifting towards them on the breeze. The aroma of the hinds made Dairmid twitch. He wanted to run and leap and fight. He wanted to stand tall on a rocky ridge and bellow out his strength to all around. But prudence and fear kept these feelings in check every time he looked towards the older stag who prowled watchfully around his harem.

Dairmid watched in the warm light of evening as the stag followed one of his hinds and sniffed at her tail. She arched her back and urinated, and the stag caught a little of the steaming liquid in his open mouth. He stood still, head up and lower jaw thrust forward, his nose twitching as he inhaled the hind's aroma like a drug. Far from being disgusted, Dairmid wanted to sample that liquid gold more than anything in the world at that moment. He would gladly have starved for a taste. But still he did not dare to approach, for the older stag held absolute dominion over the valley.

The youngsters could only watch as the huge male followed his chosen female and rested his chin on her rump. Uncertain, she took a few steps forward. The male followed. Once again he raised his head over her hindquarters, and once again she took a couple of steps. On the third attempt, she stood still. The stag reared up, clasping her rump between his forelegs. He balanced for a moment as the hind braced herself and leaned back against his bulk. Then he reared up, and Dairmid caught a glimpse of pink beneath his belly as his cock emerged from it's fleshy sheath. He leaped as he thrust upwards and forwards, and muscles bunched and rippled along his flank. He slipped off the hind's back and dropped to the ground, his service completed. She took a couple of steps forward and stood for a few moments with her back arched and a blissful look on her face. Soon she relaxed and went back to grazing.

Dairmid felt a burning need deep in his belly and in his loins. He'd never paid much attention to his cock before, but now he was aware of its increased weight and thickness as arousal surged through him. He could feel the cool air on the protruding tip. He strained briefly, and then a stream of urine started to flow. Normally it would simple splash down on the ground between his legs, but his aroused state caused it to spurt upwards from the protruding tip of his cock. Warm wetness sprayed along his belly, and the sharp smell rose to his nostrils. The feeling brought brief relief from his desire, but as he stood dripping, it came back even stronger. He needed to be with the hinds; he deserved it. He even took a step in their direction, but then he caught sight of the older stag, and his heart quailed.

Frustrated, he spun towards Alban, who looked equally aroused. Dairmid needed to prove himself worthy. He pawed the ground, then lowered his head and launched himself at his friend. They were used to tussling, and Alban met his charge with practised ease. But this time, Dairmid was motivated by a lot more than just an instinct to play; he pressed forward with real intent. Alban resisted for a moment, but Dairmid had a small advantage in height and weight. Alban stumbled as he lost ground, and staggered back. They parted, panting, and for a moment it seemed that they might forget their bond and fight in earnest. But then Alban turned aside in submission, and pointed his rump towards Dairmid. The other male strode forward, and instinct caused him to raise his head over Alban's back.

A ripple of excitement flashed through him. He reared up, and the other youngster staggered a little as he steadied himself against the weight. Dairmid's cock protruded, hard and slick, and he pressed forward instinctively. Sudden desire surged through him, and he could feel his testes contract and his muscles clench in growing anticipation. His member slid over the other stag's flank, and at the stimulation, he thrust upwards. A lightening bolt of pleasure shot through him, and his semen sprayed out over Alban's russet coat.

Dairmid dropped back to the ground, dizzy and panting. Another pulse of semen spurted from his cock as it shrank back into his sheath. He felt sated. He shook his antlers and took a lazy step towards a tasty clump of grass. Then he heard a snort and the sound of a hoof scraping the earth. He looked back. Alban stood and gazed at him as Dairmid's cum dripped down his flank, and Dairmid could sense his friends desire. The sharp smell of semen hung in the air. Alban was a fine looking young stag despite his small antlers. For the first time, Dairmid noticed the suggestive curve of his low-hanging balls, and the subtle shape of his penis in its sheath beneath his belly. A part of Dairmid wanted to charge at Alban and throw him to the ground, but he was still giddy with the rush of his first orgasm, and a stronger part of him could admire the symbol of youthful virility which stood before him. So when Alban stepped forward and raised his head, Dairmid was happy to stand with his rump towards the other stag.

He felt the warm pressure of Alban's muscular neck against his tail, and then Alban reared up and he felt himself grasped around the waist by powerful forelegs. He leaned back as something hard and wet poked against his tail-hole. Then Alban leaped and thrust, and Dairmid felt the full length of the stag's cock slide deep into him. There was a flash of pain but also a strange sensation of pleasure as hot cum spurted into him.

Alban dropped to the ground, cock dripping. Dairmid turned slowly and they eyed one another. They both stood with heads held high, savouring the moment of sexual release. Dairmid happy to have been used as a substitute hind by his friend, and they shared something special because he knew there was no way he would tolerate any other deer using him in that way.

They remained near to the herd as the autumn days passed. The enticing smell of the hinds grew stronger, and the two youngsters grew more restless. Occasionally they explored a side valley, but always the allure of the females drew them back, and each time the big stag was there to chase them away. He grew thin and haggard, but even so he never lost his overwhelming power, and all the time he maintained an enviable stamina level when it came to serving his hinds. He roamed the herd, pursuing first one and then another of his harem, sometimes several in a day, mounting and thrusting and filling them with his seed. The two young bucks grew familiar with every gesture of his technique and every twitch of his muscles as they studied his performances from a distance.

Dairmid found it difficult to eat or sleep. It was difficult even to keep his eyes and ears open for hunters, such was the distraction of the females. He discovered the new thrill of thrusting his hips forward and spraying himself when he pissed, and before long his hide reeked of it. The smell did nothing to quench his desire. Watching the hinds, sometimes his arousal grew so strong that he merely had to thrust his cock out of his sheath a couple of times to trigger an orgasm and squirt semen all over his belly and forelegs. He and Alban still practised mounting each other. Such play brought them temporary release, but it soon started to feel like a poor imitation of the real thing.

The weeks passed in a daze. The two youngsters learned to live with their frustration, for there was nothing else they could to. They even managed to keep eating and maintain their condition - condition they would need as the days shortened towards winter. But instinct still forced them to stay near the herd, and sniff at the scent of the hinds in tired desperation.

The rut eventually came to an end. The scent of the hinds had been diminishing over the preceding weeks as they moved out of their fertile period, but the males didn't notice the change until some hidden threshold was reached. Perhaps it was merely a change in the wind, but as the sun rose over the mountains one morning, Dairmid knew that he was tired of the valley and the hinds, and a drive to seek out new pastures settled in his chest. Alban raised his nose to sniff at the wind, and Dairmid followed without thinking as his friend set off up a ridge at a determined trot.

The wind was cool and fresh on their noses, and Dairmid felt like he'd woken up from a long dream. He was roaming the mountains with his friend again, just the two of them, free from responsibility, with the lingering funk of their fur the only reminder of the madness of the rut. Dairmid felt wonderfully alive.

The two friends now gave serious attention to the business of eating and building fat for the coming winter. After a couple of weeks exploring the upper reaches of the valley, Dairmid's head started to ache. He rubbed it against a sturdy beech tree, which creaked and bent before his weight. He was startled when he felt and heard a cracking sound, and one of his antlers dropped to the ground. His head felt better on that side, but still itched on the other side, and now the imbalance of weight was pulling his head to one side. He leaned his head and rubbed the remaining antler against the tree, trying not to pivot in circles as the canter-levered force pushed his head around. Finally he was rewarded with a second crack as the other antler fell away.

Shorn of the weighty antlers, Dairmid's head seemed to float upwards of its own accord. He felt like a young calf again, and he pranced about enjoying the lightness of his head. But when he looked across a clearing at Alban, he was jealous to see the spread of his friends tines, and a bit shy of his own nakedness. He needn't have worried though, for the other stag lost his antlers a couple of days later. Poor Alban had to suffer the indignity of two days with only one antler, for no amount of rubbing would dislodge it during that time. Eventually the second one fell off, and Dairmid thought his companion looked much more like an overgrown calf and less like an up-and-coming stag. But the two youngsters didn't care as they explored and ate in the last of the good weather.

The weather turned cold, and the first snows marked the arrival of winter. Dairmid was prepared for the bright white dusting covering the hills, but it still excited him to see the world changing. They had managed to keep themselves in fine shape, and the cold didn't bother them.

Crunching their way up a gully, Dairmid spotted dark shapes moving against the white snow. He froze until he recognised two other stags. The newcomers zig-zagged down the slope towards them, their hooves making tiny avalanches. As they drew near, Dairmid saw that they were both older, and he recognised one as White Patch, from the previous summer. How long ago that seemed! Dairmid stiffened, remembering the power of the older stags and how they had chased him away from the hinds. But their mighty antlers were now gone, and on closer inspection, Dairmid could see they were gaunt and tired after the stress of the rut. They approached with a relaxed friendliness, almost unrecognisable from the aggression they would have shown around their hinds. Dairmid relaxed, and realised that he was glad to see them. Instinct brought the former rivals together for safety and companionship over the cold winter months.

The four stags journeyed on together, and the youngsters let the elders lead them. It proved to be a big advantage, for White Patch had roamed the valleys for six summers and winters, and he knew the best places to find grass and shelter from the storms. They dropped down into the lower reaches as the snow and ice gripped the high country. There was food to be found despite the cold, and the older stags slowly regained their strength. Dairmid found himself admiring their strength and confidence, especially White Patch. He held his head high, and there was a sureness to his steps. A magnificent ruff of coarse hair adorned his neck, while patches of lighter colouring emphasised the lines of his nose, cheeks, belly and hindquarters. Every so often, he caught an enticing glimpse of the older stag's balls, sitting tight and firm between his legs. Dairmid wasn't exactly attracted to the other male - certainly not with the raw, irresistible desire triggered by the hinds during the rut. But he did feel a sense of awe for the older male's prowess.

He had expected disdain from White Patch, but the older stag looked at him with kindness now that winter gripped the mountains. White Patch seemed happy to stand shoulder to shoulder with the younger stags against the cold wind, and he even favoured them with a friendly rub of his head against neck or flank. His presence calmed the youngsters, and Dairmid remembered that despite their rivalries, they were all ultimately part of the Eternal Herd, standing proud against their common enemies: Cold, hunger and predation.

The four stags journeyed together through the winter months, the madness of the rut nothing more than a memory. Dairmid enjoyed the winter as their breath steamed in the crisp air and his hooves crunched in the morning frost. The cold rain and sleet was uncomfortable, but the fluttering white snow filled him with wonder as it drifted down to coat the beech forest in delicate white. The cold pushed them further down the valleys, where there were well worn paths and hard angular structures which smelled of smoke and humans. At one point they spotted a man labouring up the riverbed with a heavy pack. Dairmid almost panicked, but the older stags stayed calm. White Patch turned with casual disregard and led them up a gully, and they melted unseen back into the forest. In general, the humans seemed to hate the cold, and the deer shared the high country only with the Kea who wheeled and cried overhead.

The seasons turned with their ancient rhythm. The warming weather of spring brought the mouth-watering taste of new shoots, and the familiar tenderness of fresh antlers. They basked in the increasing warmth, and feasted on new growth. Dairmid could see that they were all in excellent condition. Alban looked bigger and stronger than he had looked the previous summer, and his neck sported a nice mane of coarse hair. He looked far more like an adult now, rather than the spindly calf of the previous summer. They were still no match for the older stags, however. White Patch's antlers were already impressive while only half-grown.

They travelled back up into the high hills as the snows melted with the heat of summer. Their travels brought them to a group of hinds with their spring calves. Dairmid watched with a new perspective as the hinds cared for the youngsters, comforting and feeding them. It was a blissful scene, and now he sensed the ebb and flow of the great cycles that governed their lives. But the hinds were busy with their calves and indifferent to the stags, and the males in turn were happy to keep their distance and enjoy their own camaraderie, so they moved on up the valley. It was a good time to be alive and together as the lazy summer days passed, and they could not imagine how much it was all about to change.

But change among the deer was as inevitable as the changing seasons, and they all felt a stirring of their blood as the days shortened. Dairmid had long forgotten the madness of the previous autumn, but now his new antlers began to itch even as the other stags grew more restless. They rubbed their antlers on tree branches until the velvet fell away and their tines were polished and hard. Dairmid resumed sparring with Alban, and their tussles gained a new degree of urgency. He even locked antlers with White Patch, but the older stag was still a hand taller than him, and much stronger, and he lost his nerve and backed down.

Dairmid started to feel cramped and intimidated around the two older males, and when they set off down the valley one morning, he simply turned and walked the other way. Alban hesitated for a minute, but then followed Dairmid. Dairmid felt pleased that his friend was still around. He sensed a growing rivalry between them, but for now he preferred the company of a peer rather than travelling alone.

A deep urge drove them to search for new opportunities, and they climbed over a difficult pass to the south of their usual range. Here they found a remote wilderness of bluffs and ravines and forest. Great waterfalls poured down from high ice fields, and water rumbled in deep gorges below. They soon found trails and old scent of other deer, and, encouraged, they explored further. The going was often steep and difficult, but there was plentiful food in the forest.

After a few days, they caught a familiar and enticing scent. Dairmid pawed the ground and tossed his antlers. He felt strong. He was a stag, and there were hinds waiting for him down the valley.