Connection

 

Connection

“There’s a deer in the backyard,” Michelle called out from the kitchen this past Sunday afternoon.  The morning had been busy, and I was enjoying a good book and my recliner in the living room.  I noted the deer sighting with a bit of a “hmmm”, but I had no intention of getting up.  Deer in the yard are a fairly common occurrence.  Granted, it was a bit unusual to see one at that time of day, but it’s not unheard of.

“Oh, she has a fawn!”  The tone of Michelle’s voice changed dramatically.  There was a slight quiver of emotion in it.  I put my book down.  This was our first neighborhood fawn sighting of the spring; I decided it was worth a look-see.  “Oh, there’s two of them, and they are so tiny.”  Michelle’s voice seemed to be almost pleading.  Now I was in a hurry, so I didn’t miss out. 

There was the doe, standing under the apple tree that was all in blossom.  She looked nervous; actually, she looked perplexed.  Two very newborn fawns on little pencil legs that weren’t even straightened out yet, were trying to catch up with her.  In their desire to be close they got right underneath the doe.  She didn’t care for that, and she took a few prancing steps forward.

The fawns were still wet; their fur seemed a bit matted.  It looked like the doe had licked them off, but she didn’t bother to straighten out their fur.  They looked bewildered and overwhelmed.  The world was coming at them fast, as it does for wild animals.  Again, they tried to catch up. 

The doe looked back at them and then hurried to the grape arbor.  The grapevines are starting to leaf out and she seemed to settle down a little bit with being partially concealed, but her ears continued to rotate around, almost like little radar dishes.  She was a full-sized doe, but I guessed she was just two years old, because she looked like she had no idea what to make of these two creatures that were following her.  I suspected that she must have given birth farther back in our back yard where there are plenty of saplings, tag alder and willow brush.  Instinct was probably driving the doe to move them away from the actual birthplace where those scents would attract predators.   

“Oh, look at how little they are.  They must have just been born.”  Michelle’s eyes looked big and round, kind of sad and happy at the same time.  She turned and looked right at me; I got the feeling that she wanted me to do something, but there was nothing to do but watch.  Finally, the doe moved out from the arbor and led her fawns to the tall grass.  They looked like they bedded down there as they dropped out of sight.

Now, I am a practical sort of chap; I am not given to sentimentality when it comes to nature.  Michelle was raised on a dairy farm; she understands the harsh realities of the lives of animals.  But, there was no doubt in my mind that Michelle had, in a way, bonded with that doe.  She recognized motherhood when she saw it.  There is something powerful in that first moment, that first breath, that first tiny cry, and the first time you hold your newborn in your arms.  I think all that came back to her, and made her eyes wide and her voice quiver.  There was something beautiful in that moment and in that connection.  I decided not to tease her about it.

It was chilly last night.  There was a touch of frost on the grass.  I looked out at the tall grass. Nothing stirred.  I ate my breakfast and had a cup of coffee staring out the patio window at where the doe and fawns had laid down yesterday.  They weren’t there I concluded.  The doe probably moved them again in the cover of darkness.  I wondered if they all had stayed warm enough.  I shook my head and smiled at myself.  I decided not to tease me about it.

His Peace <><

Deacon Dan  

Photo by Anton Marchuk on Unsplash