Oh, Deer!
There I was, putzing in the yard again, feeling all proud of myself because I had finally tidied up the flowerbed I had been planning to work on for weeks.
I was just heading back across the yard, admiring the beautiful, blue sky and puffy clouds (in other words, looking up instead of watching where I was going), when I happened to glance down and see this little guy… just inches away from the front tire of my wheelbarrow.
Well, I’m a transplanted city girl (at least that’s the excuse I’m using), and I thought all wild animals who didn’t run when approached by humans were ill…or injured…or something (because that was determined to be the problem when we had a raccoon by the house during broad daylight once).
And the little fawn’s eyes did look a little cloudy. I think.
Insideout was gone for the weekend, with his brother…the two people I normally call in situations like these. So, naturally, I panicked. What the hell was I supposed to do with a sick deer? Oh my God…what if it’s suffering!? I can’t let it suffer!
I broke down and called my father-in-law, explained the situation. He said he’d be right down.
Fifteen minutes later, he got out of his truck, trudged across the yard, took a quick peek, smiled, then told me that’s just what deer do…the moms leave the babies, then come back for them later.
Phew, what a relief!
(I would have appreciated that little tidbit when we were on the phone earlier, but at least I could breathe again.)
It turns out there were two fawns, and we had the pleasure of watching them grow up here (for a couple of years, anyway, until we couldn’t tell them from the rest of the group anymore).
