This is a story I started last year, and didn't finish before Christmas this year like I hoped. But it cuts off at an alright point, and I'll try to finish it by next year I guess. I hope y'all enjoy it.

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Ivan's handsome jaw rests over his leather harness on a bed of straw, so motionless that the bells do not stir. From the stables nearby, Ivan hears the simple sounds of sixteen reindeer sniffing in deep breaths, and the soft jingling of harnesses hung on the door as it sways with each gust of night snow. Ivan’s dry fur twitches at moments, generating and preserving enough heat to protect him from the dry cold of the air and his bed of straw. He is everything but asleep. He is watching a deer in the photograph placed for him on the wall stand still in a forest portrait between trunks of trees in the spring. It is Penelope, his deer lover and friend.

Ivan does not feel cold or warmth as people do, as he has played, ate, and slept outside through entire years clothed only by his dense coat of soft, bristly fur the colour of tree bark. The cold is not something Ivan detects to determine when to remain indoors to escape it, but something Ivan draws upon for direction in his day and a sense of place within the year. Most Winters Ivan is careful and focused, using little energy to find small amounts of food. He watches, listens, and smells for his enemies the bear, wolf, and lynx.

But Ivan's senses are still set to his forest home, not here - at the North Pole. Any of his motivations that are natural or instinctual do not respond to its frigid and un-altering temperatures, and its endless dark sky that has stars even during the day time. It is not the shortening and lengthening of days of his immediate surroundings that Ivan follows, but the weather he knows deeply from his own forest home, the one Penelope forages and wanders in. Ivan's has internalized his forest home so deeply that he feels its weather and Penelope as a memory he always carries with him.

In the morning, Ivan's head will rise, and he will be rested and alert, though his eyes have not closed, and he has not fallen asleep or awoken. When he is alone, Ivan's memory has become such a part of him that his wanderings have the regenerative effects of a dream.

And as Donner trains Ivan in the pine-tree forest in their pre-Christmas runs, Ivan often remains in this mobile, dreaming state to be with Penelope wherever he can, only to be abruptly awoken by the charging prongs of Vixen or Cupid's antlers, which are each as ornate and sturdy as iron chandeliers. Here, Ivan's battle instincts return and Ivan is present enough to guard himself and bleat toughly in reply. Unsupervised however, Ivan often spends much of these times gazing at the needles of a tree or at stars in the sky.


Later, as Ivan eats his reindeer meal of peanuts and Lucky Charms cereal with carrot sticks, he is nudged by Blitzen, old but understanding and wise, and knowledgeable about Ivan's dilemma and lonely state.

I understand my function here is of more significance than the other role I served in the forest. Ivan communicates to Dasher and Blitzen.

Deer communication occurs within a language of eight possible deer calls for eating, warning, and mating, but this does not prevent them from communicating complex ideas, as all deer have an expansive capacity for understanding and deep feeling.

I have selfishly wondered why I should serve any greater role beyond the one that is natural to me.

From behind Ivan, Santa has appeared, combing through the bristles on his back with a touch that is cooling, but so sensitive that the gesture is perceived as warm and reassuring. Santa does not understand the language of the deer, but in a greater way Santa and the deer have reached an understanding.

Ivan is nudged again by Dasher and gazes communicatively into his black velvet eyes.

It is wise of you to know your loss . . . and this is what makes your gift so worthy and meaningful. Dasher communicates.

Ivan understands. He finishes an orange slice and goes outside to feel the cold.


The deer are outside in their bells and harnesses, looking out towards the forest run . . . a wide, frosty path bordered with candy canes that travels through under the stars through trees, over a forest lake, and across the perma-frosted meadow plain.

Santa walks amongst the reindeer, petting their fur, adjusting their harnesses, feeding them candy almond caramel biscotti. He adjusts the collar under Ivan's neck and running through Ivan's underside, and at the white fluff below Ivan's waist and tail. This is tightened firmly, and Ivan feels more alert. "You are all such handsome deer." Santa says to them. And though they are unable to take any particular meaning from what he says, they understand Santa's love as he pets them each one more time for good measure.

Sweaty in the warmth of his long underwear and red fur coat, Santa ambles around the harnessed deer towards his seat, pausing once to gaze for a lengthy period through the Christmas-tree woods.

The manicured pines are decorated with a century of unwanted or broken ornaments abandoned by families and repaired by elves in Santa's factory. Extinguished incandescent Christmas bulbs are strung into garlands while discarded packaging and wrapping papers are elaborately folded by elf schoolchildren into lovely shapes. Flowers, seashells, airplanes, and smiling children. Along with these are hung un-paired mittens, bad pulp novels, and VHS tapes. It is a well-known fact that Santa delivers presents every Christmas, but parents often forget to mention the North Pole’s wildly successful trash diversion program, which regularly exceeds targets each winter, likely due to the extensive communication and coordination that occurs between governments, parents, and the North Pole.

Santa settles into his sleigh, buckles his seatbelt, and nods to Dasher, who leads the deer cue:

Ready? he thinks, and the deer all feel this question.

He stomps a hoof and does an exaggerated quick sniff. The deer hoofs all clatter at once to a steady speed and the sleigh propels forwards.

Ivan and the reindeer engage with the traditional deer pattern, allowing it to beat continually in his head.

didididuh *rest* didididuh *rest*
didididuh *rest* didididuh *rest* . . .

The air becomes colder and whips through the white fuzz of Ivan’s ears. They are accelerating.

duh *rest* diDuh *rest* diDuduh *rest*
duh *rest* dddduh *rest*

The sky is an abyss of smoky white cloud. In the distance, Ivan watches a Canadian military freighter navigate broken ice on the brushed-steel surface of the arctic sea.

Tremors of energy course through Ivan, sending his muscles into convulsive electric energy and shivers. Magic Ivan guesses, since this is a word he has heard used and guessed it is what allows him to fly. Though none of this exhilaration or power is natural to him, and the logic of what the magic has to do with himself, or the process by which it allows them to fly through clouds and over water, does not register in the same way new knowledge has of the changes in seasons or patterns of the trees and flowers or migrating birds. It is a sensation that is entirely new and unearthly.


Ivan decides to close his eyes as he rests on his straw bed that night, so he will not make the other deer worry for his well-being. His muzzle folds inwards against his shoulder, with antler prongs combing through bristles in his fur.The mound of grey, winter fur on his upper back rises and falls, twitching with his drowsy shivers in response to air coming in through leaks in the stable walls.One by one his affectionate deer friends glance over, become satisfied that he will rest, and fall unconscious.

But if Ivan does rest, He certainly never loses awareness of Penelope, the deer companion he left; Ivan has memorized the photograph and watches her as if she is playing on a humming electric screen.

He watches as she browses clover in a green, sunny field. She scans the grass for new clumps of it, and munch on it absently . . . run off into the cover of woods to regurgitate, chew, and digest. Birds chirp and time cycles. Penelope returns at dusk, gazes out over the field. The white, setting sun warms the stiff, silky bristles of her sleek, beautiful coat.In this light it shines purple, orange, silver, and chocolate.

But gradually the scene becomes static, and unawares to Ivan the hour hand of a very small clock in a quiet but cheerful elf schoolteacher's house down the street crosses into the next day. And even in his waking moments, as Ivan finds some extra consciousness and senses sunlight, he is again watching Penelope eat, eternally mid-motion, on the static screen that plays in all minds always of what it is we want most dearly.

Ivan gets up and ventures outside, stepping along a hardened deer trail towards a frozen brook. (So his hooves won't make him sink into the ancient bed of snow, as deep as he is tall.) Here, away from the ambience of the photo he could not exacpe bu turning to face the wall he falls unconscious under the shade of a pine-tree, decorated with discarded metal ribbons and the tin foil from candy bars.


Though deer do not talk, and deer have no tear ducts and cannot cry, Comet suspects something is draining Ivan when he does not bleat in the manner the other deer do for his breakfast of oatmeal with gummy worms and caramel squares. He brushes nurturingly against Ivan's behind with the stiff fuzz under his muzzle. When Ivan looks behind him, Comet's eyes are caverns of golden candlelight, and Dancer sets down an unfinished worm to lick Ivan delicately behind his ear. Ivan is given no worded advice or reassurance, but knows he is less alone and regains determination and strength.

A difference between humans and deer is that deer are unable to tell stories. They have keen communication abilities, drawn only from their many shared experiences and instinctual perceptiveness, but deer cannot communicate the experiences that form their habits and wisdom as stories,in the manner that people do in words that refer to specific meanings with literal information being transferred through the construction of sentences. So while it is necessary for deer to always be collecting knowlege, and making sense of their own experiences, those deer who have can only communicate what they have learned to other deer through the ways their knowledge has impacted their habits and manner. So deer narratives exist, but they are collected in a very solitary, meditative way. And likewise, there is always a great distance and respect between deer. They are always mindful of the expansiveness and impenetrability of other deer's lives.

After breakfast, the deer continue their training for Christmas Eve, prancing in circles around the North Pole. The ice here is thin and hard, clattering thunkclat with the landing of each hoof. The deer collectively make a continual clattering which is deadened and absorbed by the snow in all directions, but also softly echoes off the wall of the reindeer stables. The barn has a gingerbread roof with walls of diagonal candycane stripes.The deer can jump six feet high and several feet in distance with each bound, and deer tails and ears seem to brush against silky fuzzy deer sides in a great bromantic confusion.

The circle is anything but confused however, for the great talents and characteristics of deer -- their instinctualness and perception -- cause the deer to know exactly where to leap to be out of the way of other deer, even to the point of being completely unaware of themselves, aware only of the colour of the thoughts of passing deer.

Deer do this through the secretion of pheremones. Unlike humans, deer are always quite interested and mindful of the scents emitted by other deer, which are secreted by a network of over 18 different glands, while humans enjoy the use of only perhaps four. The usefulness of ours for detecting mood and other data is harmed by our relatively poor sense of smell, fixation on hygeine, and muting of their effects through the use of deodorants and perfume. But as the moods of deer shift, the aura of it surrounds them in a waft they carry through the day, percieved by all the deer they encounter. So as the deer circle the North Pole gracefully, not tangling their antlers or losing their balance as they land, Vixen and Prancer both become aware that Ivan is undergoing alot of deep mindfulness and stress.

Ivan is also mindful of the great flurry of temperatures, smells, and emotions around him, of the passing breeze, clattering of hooves, and the white tail-flags signaled to him by the other deer, but not in such a way that they occupy his moving thought, They only serve to provide a rising, falling, cyclical motion to his meditation on the place he was born.

My children were meant to be born there in the same manner that I was, but since I will not be present, my son will not cast a passing, symbolic glance at me crested on the high, jutting forest rock. Ivan broadcasts to the other deer.

His specific idea and experience is something deer cannot communicate, but Ivan's anxiety and pensiveness is something that registers to the other deer in a deep, meaningful way.

Not all guide deer die, and not all guide deer are useful beyond their first or second trips. So you may soon be free to return to your forest home and breed with many a doe, transferring your great deer lineage, Prancer communicates to Ivan, aware of his anxiety and the cyclical nature of his thoughts, but unaware of why they has appeared.

Ivan is also unaware of the particular ideas Prancer is trying to comfort him with, but his sounds and signals are ones Ivan can tell are meant to bring him comfort and communicate the endlessness of the song of deer love. Ivan only wishes he could be content so the other deer would not have to worry for him and could relax.

Is it fair to live up the responsibilities of love in one circumstance at the expense of another? Ivan the deer broadcasts. But the idea is large, and one he will dwell on for much time.


And now we are approaching the point where I enter the picture; but I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Dr. Sergei Emmett Twinkle, and I am Senior Veterinarian at the North Pole. My domain of study rests in animal psychology/philosophy, and I am known as an authority on deer communication, animal/human relations, and domestication induced animal ennui. Over the past few months I have been compiling a report I was commissioned to write on guide deer trauma, specifically relating to the mental breakdown and disappearance of Ivan the white-tailed deer.

Indeed, examining the psychology and thought processes of deer or other animals is a field that, undeservedly, has drawn little attention over the years. As I made the express point of explaining in the paper you have probably recognized my name from, Suggestion to the American Association of Beef Farmers to Improve Meat Quality, Reduce Disease, and Improve Morale of Chattel Through Improved Feed Quality, the field of animal/human relations is one whose significance and applications are often unjustly discounted, a field whose voice unfortunately tends to be sought reactionally, after breakdowns in communication have occurred between animals and humans or elves that are so extreme and impactful that the sustainability of entire industries become questioned. As it is a field of such severity and importance, yet is generally met with so far less response or even interest in changing the attitudes and industries than it must be for its promises of animal/human harmony to be attained, I have heard other researchers complain of its lack of rewards and a nagging doubt as to whether plugging its outlooks and funding research within the field is even worthwhile. But I see it simply as a field rife with challenges, and it is the field that will always occupy the greatest space in my biologically disproportionate elf heart.

The greatest challenge to the interpretation of deer thought is that, at our best moments, we can only do a slightly better job at it than deer do. The language is one of great complexity, great simplicity, and infinite variables and nuances . . . a language of actions, biographical baggage, and smells.

But my belief – as was Santa’s belief, after his consultations with his team of magical deer in the weeks proceeding Ivan’s departure – is that Ivan never settled into his new environment in the manner we have perhaps irrationally assumed or expected guide deer should. Indeed, in all of my personal investment into the process through which Ivan was selected as a suitable guide deer (as certainly seemed fit at the time based on the information available to me, as it did to my team of understudies and associates), in my personal relationship with Ivan as his psychiatrist and veterinarian for our handful of sessions, Ivan always came across to me as highly mentally adept and balanced, and exceptionally brave, except in a few instances where he came across as somewhat moody or troubled; symptoms I unfortunately (but rationally given experiences I have had with deer in the past, earning accolades for my authority and facility in respects to deer visual, moral, and philosophical language) attributed at the time to nervousness over his coming trip or perhaps a light case of homesickness . . . certainly I never suspected this homesickness and anxiety would be so deeply rooted, pervasive, internalized, and total that he take actions as impulsive, extreme, and irrational as those he did. Certainly I never expected Ivan to be the quality of deer that when placed in a position of responsibility so extreme that the delivery of unfathomable quantities of toys to bored, innocent, and hopeful children at all points in the world hung in the balance, would place the institution and covenant of Christmas and his own life at peril the night before December 24th.

Over the past few months and through my scrutiny of files, interviews with his deer companions, and the examination of surveillance footage however, I have been able to assemble the materials necessary to generate this account, which should serve to shed some light on the struggles of Ivan, perhaps even to some extent lesson the shock and increase compassion and understanding to those who on first hearing of the event deemed it shocking and unforgivable. I could continue the account in the academic tone which it seems I am prone to fall into, but indeed my elf schooling reminds me that beautiful ideas are best registered through the narrative voice.


It is night again and Ivan is laying on the cool bed of straw, tufts of it stuck to his fur, which has been thickening in response to the cold. His demeanour has become more calm and severe, and with some separation from the photo of Penelope, hidden beneath his straw bed, he has been more alert and adept at his flight training. He has resolved that he will work hard and fulfill his responsibility towards Santa and Christmas for the year, then request to end his role as guide deer and return to the forest.

Ivan the deer lived in a valley between hills with a small, buggy and wet glistening creek rolling towards a deep, clear lake. The valley was in a valley of tall, slender Maples and Oaks, their tops swaying and rustling in the breeze, filtered sunlight reaching the forest floor in patches, landing on the fronds of ferns and a bed of white, three-petaled trillium blossoms. Everything could be eaten, and the deer lived undisturbed by humans influences or predators, except for the occasional pounding, sputtering motor of the boat of an old man who lived across the lake. There was a profusion of small animals: squirrels, owls, chipmunks, skunks, and a destructive but solitary beaver. Daily, he would awake and examine the entire stretch of woods, bordered by electric wires on one side and on another a busy and carefully maintained two lane road.

He would taste all the forest’s offerings of leaves, mushrooms, and berries, listening intently for sounds other than the rustling, cars, or water, never detecting anything except perhaps the bleating of fawns or acknowledging the presence of a deer companion. He remembers the dryness and sparse vegetation of the forest in the winter, but remembers Penelope and her fawn and still yearns to be there to brave it with her. I will return he reassures himself, someday.


Ivan is jolted from his sleep by a sharp pain in his chest, and a quick moment where he suddenly sees red and gets hot and wants to run as if there is a great danger. Instead he finds himself very awake but unable to breathe and unable to move. It is as if he has been attacked, he is paralyzed, and something is about to emerge to drag him in sharp motions back to its lair.

But indeed the moment passes, and the threat never emerges, and Ivan finds himself again able to breathe and finds the mobility to stand and examine what surrounds him with sharp turns of the head towards all corners of the stable and ears listening alertly for any sounds other than the powerful beating of his own blood and a ringing in his ears. He is the only deer awake in the stable, and it is clouded with undulating darklness. The pain occurred all at once and disappeared in an instant, but Ivan feels a ghosty memory of it whenever it crosses his mind.

Ivan does not run, does not make a sound, because his breathing returns to him, his agitation subsides, and his dizziness goes away. Ivan does not know what has occurred, but he is consumed by fear.

A few days later, veterinarians who have been called in notice Ivan’s sudden mistrustfulness and agitation, and have suspicions of where it is coming from.

“Hey Wanda – we upped his magic intake just the other day, and magic intake is tied to blood circulation and adrenaline, right? Should we give him less?” Andrew suggests.

But Wanda shakes her head, pulling out a binder containing the deer nutritional logbook and flight preparation schedule.

“We need to up it to twice this, or three times this if he wants the stamina to pull off Christmas, and we have to raise the quantities incrementally.” Wanda says in a professional voice. Wanda suggests that Ivan be supervised more closely and convinces Andrew that Ivan will fare well.

“We’ve been raising promising deer from the forests to flying calibre using magic since the time of Rudolph and before him, and all deer are aware of the risk involved. Magic is what makes ordinary deer capable of extraordinary things and extraordinary deer capable of saving Christmas.” Wanda says neatly.

Andrew nods and registers the blood pressure spikes in his journal.