The doe hesitated at the edge of the recently mowed acreage. Dew sparkled in the grass. Birds twittered as they fed happily at the bird feeder nearest the house. Several pairs of Canadian geese took their sentry positions along Mikinaak Creek, their goslings at their feet.
Other than birds, no human two-leggeds could be seen. There was nothing threatening on the wind. The doe was confident all was well to enter the yard with her valued new prize, her doe fawn, born earlier in the week. This was its debut.
One of the doe's ears moved rearwards; she ever so slightly moved her tail, when the fawn burst out from behind her, all legs, tiny spotted body, little head, speeding beyond the safety of her mother, blinded by the sheer wonderfulness of it all.
The doe was super conscientious. All of her senses were on high alert although her neighbors indicated the place was safe. Her off-spring ran like the wind in an ever-widening circle; all eyes upon her.
The geese took notice of this new stranger that threatened their tranquil morning and so sounded their constant alert call, all standing with their necks craned in observation, riveted on the little deer that sped here and there and back again; then turned suddenly to shoot that way and this way--and back to its mother for just a moment, then was gone again.
The birds flew up into the ash tree by the feeder, temporarily alarmed, for they were soon back on the ground pecking at sunflower seeds and acting aggressive toward each other. Safety was in numbers and they had that, wings down. This was not a blind feeding frenzy; they may act like they’re not paying attention, but their many eyes were open to any sign of danger, all the time.
The doe grazed, cautiously; her ears, eyes and nose scanning their environment including the sky and treetops. Her sense of smell is everything. Her fawn has no scent except to her--and no sense other than what she provides in these first days, hard lessons that will save its life and likely bruise its little body as she drives home her ‘tough love’ teachings.
The fawn alights to nurse, vigorously thrusting its little mouth under the doe just ahead of her back legs, eager to eat and quickly get back to exploring this big new place his mother had introduced for the first time in her life. That other place was close-in and darker, with little shafts of light coming down in places through the tops of nearby trees, a place in the willows, of crushed-down high grass not far from the creek and in view of the house where the two-legged live, one of whom frequently watched as fawns were born around her each spring.
The two-leggeds had a year around window to an outdoor life that many more two-leggeds only read about in books, magazines or on their computers. Binoculars and digital cameras stand ready by their kitchen and livingroom windows ready to capture unique or interesting sightings of four-leggeds and two-leggeds (birds, in this case) that share the space with them.
The house and yard are usually quiet as is the surrounding woods, the only intrusions being when the furnace or the central air conditioner starts. The four-leggeds and two-leggeds get used to that as a normal noise, but when the grass needs mowing or snow needs blowing, they watch safely from a distance until the machine goes away or stops. Even then, some two-leggeds, such as hawks and pheasants, have adapted to the noisy moving machines, as some four-leggeds have done to accept farm tractors, and allow their approach without overwhelming trepidation.
These human two-leggeds walk across this space more frequently than they ride, preferring to maintain a natural being there, than disturb their environment using ATVs or snowmobiles. Quiet observation and interaction is better than a fleeting glimpse, they think.
The doe was maybe born here herself, maybe watched by the same two-leggeds in the house, as she too zoomed around the edge of the same yard, but with an overzealous brother who, seemingly had 10X the energy and speed she had--and obviously far less intelligence -- concerning their mother greatly.
This doe appreciated the fact she had bore a single doe fawn and not a buck fawn as well, for her young nerves could not accept a repeat of what her mother had to endure in the rambunctious belligerent form of her stupid buck fawn brother who would not listen and chose to eat something that their mother warned him not to eat, suddenly shattering their peaceful world as they knew it,
“KNOCK IT OFF!!!”
Beautiful writing! You capture the present moment in the natural world as well as anyone I read. This must come from the careful watching that you and Jackie practice each day.
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