Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Oh Deer

The cycle of life is whirling here.

The sun was setting as I walked out on my front porch on June 2, 2008, to snip some basil. I was thinking about my recipe and bending over the basil, sharp scissors in hand, before my brain clicked.


I don't know who was more startled, but I do know who blinked.  And it wasn't the fawn.

She was so small.  See the 4" pots next to her? ------>

I ran back into the house, snapped a picture through the kitchen window and shut off all the lights.  A doe hides her newborn in a thick stand of grass or a thicket, the safest place she can find, and then goes off to feed, not returning for perhaps a day. 

I made dinner in the dark and we ate in the dark. I didn't want anything to discourage Mama from retrieving that baby.  What would we do if the doe didn't come back?  We couldn't abandon a baby.  I pushed away a vision of a full-grown deer sleeping on my doormat.

When we blinked the porch light at midnight, the little one was gone.

Then last summer, a young doe brought her fawn to our gardens.  Drank from our bird baths, ate birdseed from the rocks, made herself to home.  Grand-fawn?

This summer, if I look out the window, any window, I'm likely to see a doe and twin fawns.


Or a pregnant doe, due any day now, noshing in the flowers.  I suspect she's the one bedding down in the swath of Mexican Hat

<-----See her belly?

I don't go out snipping herbs at sunset now.  I don't want to know.

Copyright 2009-2010 Kathleen Scott ,for Hill Country Mysteries. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.
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