“Hurry, come out here!” my husband exclaimed as he burst in the door. His delivery hinted at disaster, so I flew out of my chair and scampered outside. Relieved to find our car still intact, I wondered what he and the sidewalk were now leading me to see.
Just past our neighbors’ house, I saw it. There to our left were two wobbly spotted fawns, desperate to keep up with their momma as they lumbered toward the enclosed side lawn. Their legs were so awkward and unsteady, they couldn’t have been more than a day old.
The three stopped at the set-back fence in the adjoining side yard. Upon seeing us, their momma effortlessly jumped into the back yard and then, as if she were playing yard chess, across the dividing side fence into our neighbors’ yard. Meanwhile, her babies were left bewildered by the separation and at the mercy of the human now approaching.
That moment brought an impromptu worry triangle. Up to my right, the babies frantically longed for protection at their momma’s side, while momma, off to my left, stared through open fence links, trying to read my intentions. And me, I stood frozen and torn between my own worries. I envisioned a script with two possible outcomes: the babies would either bloody their noses while trying to peck their way through the fence links or, worse yet, stumble back onto the street for evening commuters to mow down. The thought of either squeezed at my awestruck heart.
Somehow I managed to get the neighbors’ gate open, warily herding the babies to rejoin their watching momma. With the gate again closed, I took comfort in knowing that, at least for the time being, these precious creatures were safely tucked in, hopefully for the night.
The dinner hour forced a temporary halt to my deer watching, but before night drew the evening shades to a close, I headed back out to check on the visitors in our neighbors’ yard. The retaining wall connecting the two yards made for an unladylike but fairly easy climb. Hoping I didn’t catch my neighbors’ attention, I stealthily scanned the yard and searched the shrubs as if I was on a 30-second shopping spree. Upon finding nothing, my curiosity then shifted to concern that the fawns had found the narrow retaining wall path leading back out to the front.
In time, I spotted the two all curled up tight as rollie pollies, safely tucked away in a makeshift cubbyhole I didn’t even know existed. The entrance to their hideaway between the neighbors’ corner shed and fence was further obstructed by a roll of extra fencing. That their momma had directed them to and through this narrowest of spots was just the first of many signs to come that wildlife can know and show intelligent, gentle love. Reflecting back, I am still in awe at whatever lessons in a deer’s life momma told to them that day.
(The story continues here.)
