His attitude reminds one of Scott's "antlered monarch" in "The Lady of the Lake," which
"Like crested leader proud and high
Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky;
A moment gazed adown the dale,
A moment snuffed the tainted gale."
It is with a proud sense of ownership that the monarch surveys his domain. With head erect he seems to defy the whole world of sportsmen. Behind him are piled the massive crags of the mountain peaks, with the mist rising from the valley below. This fog, so dangerous to the traveller, is a blessing to the deer, tempering the heat of the summer sun and hiding him from his enemy, man. It appealed to Landseer on account of its weird sublimity, and he liked to get the effect of it in his landscapes, especially when illumined by a burst of sunlight.
From an Engraving by Thomas Landseer. John Andrew & Son, Sc.
THE MONARCH OF THE GLEN
The Monarch of the Glen is a splendid specimen of his kind. The spreading horns above his head are like the boughs of an oak tree. We know from the number of branches that he is seven years old. The horns are developed at the end of the first year, and every year thereafter are displaced by new ones with an additional branch.
The large ears are held erect as if the animal could fairly see with them. His fine eyes scan the horizon with a searching glance which misses nothing. His sensitive nose detects from afar the approach of any stranger to his fastnesses. The end is always moist, in order that he may catch the way of the wind, as the hunter catches it on his moistened finger. His neck is encircled with a heavy mane, falling in a broad band, like the collar of a royal order. His body is rather short, thick, and round.
The legs, which are seen only half their length, seem strangely disproportioned to the weight of so heavy an annual. That the deer's horns are so large and his legs so small are two perpetual mysteries about this wild creature. An amusing fable by La Fontaine relates how a stag, gazing at his reflection in the water, deplores the awkwardness of his legs, and admires the beauty of his antlers. A moment later, fleeing for his life, he learns the value of his despised legs, while the boasted horns impede his progress by catching in the branches of the forest trees.
The speed of which the deer is capable is indeed marvelous. He adds to his power of fleet running a wonderful trick of bounding through space. It is said that a deer may leap six or eight feet into the air, and cover in a single bound a distance of eighteen to thirty feet. The leap is performed without apparent haste or effort, the animal rising gracefully into the air by a tiny toe-touch of the dainty hoofs. It is a sort of wingless flying.[5] The deer is besides a strong swimmer, and lakes and streams are no obstacles in his way.