Spirit Guides

We were on our way home from Windsor this afternoon. The sun was playing hide and seek with the fat, puffy clouds that skated across the sky. Yesterday's fresh snow swirled about as we rounded a gentle curve about a mile outside the little town of Paris. I glanced at the speedometer. Eighty miles per hour is the speed limit, but it's reduced in Paris to forty. I moved the throttle to idle, reached for the brake and pushed the t-handle forward slightly. The familiar whoosh of air from the brake system was comforting and I felt a slight tug as the brakes applied on the four coaches behind me. I inhaled deeply, feeling my lungs fill. I do that often these days. As I exhaled, I turned to watch a herd of deer in the field to our right. I counted seven. Then eight. I smiled. Whenever I see deer, I imagine they've been put there by God himself as a sign to me. "Don't worry, Dale," they say. "We're here. We're watching you. We'll keep you safe."

Jimmy was muttering something from the left side of the cab. Something about deer.

"Deer. Dale. Look!"

I watched them over my shoulder. We'd nearly passed them. They were looking right at me. It was lovely. Jim was still talking. Louder now. More urgent. I turned to look at him; he was pointing at the windshield.

"Deer! In front of us!"

Four deer were running, trying to cross the tracks right in front of us, hoping to join their mates in the field. I smashed my fist down hard on the horn button and applied more brake. There was nothing more I could do. One deer had made it safely across. Then two. Then three. The last one was the littlest. A young one. The horn made a steady blare as I held the button. The brake exhaust was hissing angrily. Fuck, I thought. Why must the youngest one die? I held my breath, closed my eyes and waited for the sickening thud. But there was none. I squinted into the murky reflection in my wing mirror and watched the little guy jump the wire fence and bound across the snowy expanse after the others. Releasing the brake, I allowed myself to exhale.

"Did they all make it?" Jim asked. And I told him yes.

"Good," he said. "I'm glad."

Jim didn't know it, but I was nearly in tears. I honestly believe deer are my Spirit Guides. I believe they are sent to remind me not to be afraid. Years ago, when I was miserable at CN and praying to be delivered from the cruel management there, I asked for a sign.

"God," I said, "if it is your will that I go to VIA and escape the insanity here at CN, show me a sign. Show me a deer here in this field."

That particular field near Toronto hadn't seen a deer in ages. It had been ravaged by bulldozers to prepare the site for a future housing development. And yet, less than a week later, I saw not one, but two large deer majestically watching as our train raced by them. Two days later, I received word that my application had been accepted. I was going to VIA to work. 

Ever since that day, more than 5 years ago, I have felt a special affinity toward deer. It's as if my Life and theirs are somehow connected. Today, whenever I see deer, I remember that incident. I remember that there is some Greater Power watching over me, wanting what's best for me, keeping me safe, keeping me calm. 

Come to think of it, maybe those creatures could be summoned to protect me when the night terrors visit.

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