http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/insect-fruit-fly-eyes/

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a defensive fortification.”

“Defensive fortification?”

“Yes.”

“Against deer?”

“Well they aren’t deer.”

“Look like deer.”

“A little bit. But as you seem to have forgotten the decades you spent in stasis to get here, I shall remind you that this isn’t Earth, and as it is not Earth, there aren’t any deer.”

“But there are defensive fortifications against them?”

The Major put his palm to his forehead and groaned. It was the young settler’s first day out of the hospital unit. Because the colony’s Governor felt himself something of a jokester, he always assigned the new recruits to one of the towers by the fields early in their orientation.

It was a sunny day at the colony. The Major and his charge were perched in the tower closest to the colony’s eastern border. To one side, they overlooked the squared-off fields and bulbous greenhouses that supplied the people with all their food. To the other, the strange orange hills that so flummoxed the settler.

“Alright, you’re still coming out of the Fog of Space, so I’m going to try to do this as simply as I can.”

“I appreciate that.”

“And if you don’t get it, I’m just going to feed you to the next carnivore that happens by.”

The recruit grinned stupidly and nodded. “Seems fair.”

The Major pointed to the fields. “That’s where we grow all our food. Cereal grains, corn and some other stuff outside. Fruits, vegetables, herbs inside. The dairy livestock is kept inside the wall under constant armed guard.”

“The aforementioned carnivores,” the recruit ventured.

“Indeed,” the Major answered. “But the fields are too big to keep guarded all the time. The herds come through like a hungry bull in a china shop made out of, I don’t know, bull food.”

“They probably just eat grass.”

“Well these things don’t. They eat our food, and the Governor would much prefer our food be eaten by us.”

The recruit nodded sagely. “He sounds a reasonable fellow.”

The Major unfolded a digital scratchpad from his jacket pocket. He drew up a quick cross-section of the hill-like installation.

“So it’s a synthetic ground, basically. The hills there are slippery as all hell. They’re designed at the front to keep the herds from entering at all. And for the most part, it works. They get shepherded around to the north, until they’re past the fields. But some invariably end up in the thick of it.”

He scratched on the pad, showing the approximation of a deer-like creature walking on the hills. He tapped it to make sure the recruit was paying attention.

“These cloven jerks can’t keep going straight. They slide down the hills into the spires. Now those are loaded up with a local substance that’s a kind of pollen. Stuff’s like reverse catnip to the herd. They inhale one good breath and go instantly docile. There will be dozens of them snoozing against the spires after a stampede.”

“And that’s where we get our meat,” the recruit said, looking very proud of himself.

“Yep. And we capture way more than we can eat, so we let most of them go around the other side.” The Major pointed toward the far horizon, past the fields and the colony wall, in the direction of distant mountains. “We’re pretty sure they catch up to the herd eventually.”

Nodding, the recruit rubbed his stomach. “Haven’t had a good venison steak in some time.”

The Major looked aghast at the young man. “It’s not… they aren’t deer! You’re light years from the nearest deer!”

Looking quizzical, the recruit pointed to the hill. “Then why do you have anti-deer technology all over the place?”

For a moment, it seemed the Major’s ears were going to let out a burst of steam. His face actually turned red with frustration. The tension of the moment crumbled when the recruit burst into laughter.

“Come on, Major,” he said once he’d collected himself. “Don’t be such an easy target.”

“You were messing with me?”

“I was.”

“Why the hell….?”

The recruit shrugged. “Decades of stasis leaves a guy hungry for a laugh.” He winked and added, “And maybe some lox. They got salmon on this planet?”