Yesterday morning I awakened to the smell of drop biscuits coming from the kitchen downstairs. Coffee was brewed, the biscuits were hot, and the kitchen was full of smoke. I swung open our back door.
Only a few feet away from me, down our back steps, a fawn lay sunning itself on the deck slats. She lay there, fixedly watching us as Martin and Merry both joined me at the door, and not until Merry began walking toward her did she scramble down the stairs and fly down our hill.
The sight of this grace and beauty has made me less upset about the beheaded rose bushes, and though we continue to spray with Liquid Fence, I am more content to share just a little every now and then.
One of the most exquisite things about building a garden is the birds that seem to have shown up in crowds to help us celebrate. And now a fawn has joined as well. Planting and caring for our little scrap of this world has brought us that much closer with the world itself, and now we suddenly care so much about weather patterns, wildlife, the warming of the soil every morning and the cool dew underfoot.
2 comments:
Beautifully written!
You did the right thing in running the fawn off.
If they become too tame and familiar they are more likely to run in front of a car, imperiling themselves and humans.
If the cute little fawn is a male, you are also lucky if he isn't around during the fall Rut.
They can become frisky to the point of dangerous then.
We have had numerous deer here, with a small group living in the copse of woods behind us for some winters.
Two discovered the hard way that they are not quicker than cars.
Get Auntie Phyllis to tell you her "Queen Boudica" warrior princess deer story.
It's quite funny!
I feel like you should have named him "Fawnzie" after the Henry Winkler vehicle. "Heyyyyyyyyyy" (and a thumbs-up).
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