This poem is for the Ragtag Daily Prompt word : Instinct
Here’s what I came up with …
Predators like the majestic cheetah, are creatures of instinct. Everything he does is intuitive and instinctual. He instinctively knows which is the weakest of the heard of springbok his hunting. His sharp perception tells him, which way the prey will run and then he’s off running at sixty miles per hour. His muscles running on pure instinct as he chases, leaps and claims his dinner for the week.
Charles ‘Cheeto’ Nero was on the hunt too. He’d been a hunter for most of his adult life. Like the big cat, his senses were highly attuned to his surroundings. Cheeto walked with a purpose, his instincts reading the spoor and environment and guiding his every move.
“Where are you?” he breathed as he crept through a massive rhododendron bush and scaled a small tor. The unmistakable footprints continued ahead. “So, you defecated here and then went …”
Cheeto’s head snapped to a copse of silver birch trees across the dell. On automatic, he flattened himself in the grasses much to the disgust of the grasshoppers which sprang away from him. He peered through his scope and grinned. “Gotcha!”
Rolling to his feet, Cheeto stayed low and crept into the dell. A chestnut tree covered him. Creeping around it, he slipped his weapon of choice from its pouch and aimed. There grazing upon elderberries was an unusual sight. A pure-white albino Red Deer stag. It’s twelve-point horns magnificent, its stance strong and imposing. It was like a wraith of the woods. The most magical deer ever seen, stood with the rays of dappled sunlight playing over his majestic flanks.
Cheeto peered through the lenses of his camera and snapped off a series of stunning, one in a lifetime, photos. His instincts on following the large deer tracks had led him to photos which would provide him meals for weeks.
Have a great day!