May 27, 2022
Suddenly they’re everywhere. The deer? No, they’re always here, passing through my garden and neighbors’ yards at dusk, at night, in early morning. But starting in mid-May, the does give birth. They stash their tiny fawns in a hiding place — under a bush, behind a potted plant, in a clump of feathergrass — while they go off to graze for hours.
Not much larger than a King Charles spaniel, the newborn to week-old fawns know to lay low and stay absolutely still when you walk by. Their brown coats with white spots camouflage them remarkably well.
You don’t see them at first. But they see you. When you linger too close, leaning down to pull a weed or standing at the mailbox or opening your car door, they suddenly decide the danger is too close and flush from their hiding place — right under your feet maybe — with a wild, scurrying clatter. You freeze, your heart in your mouth or simply bemused — huh, I didn’t know it was there — and watch as it runs off to settle somewhere new. Mama always manages to find it later.
Three fawns are regulars in my garden right now. This pair of twins was tucked into the feathergrass along the driveway, and at dusk I spotted them again in the island bed…
…with mama standing watch.
As neighbors approached on a dog walk, the doe and her fawns hustled across the street, keeping a wary eye on us.
That same day we’d spotted another fawn tucked in the drainage well in our front courtyard.
David saw her first from the bathroom window. This was a good observation spot, as she didn’t notice us watching through the glass above her head.
I got some zoomed-in photos from the window.
She lay there all day, and temps were pleasant, so I didn’t worry about her getting too hot on the rocks.
When mama didn’t come for her by dusk, I started to worry. But after dinner I looked out the window, and she was gone. That evening it stormed with high winds and thundering rain. Around midnight I took the dog out front for one last bathroom break, and we accidentally flushed the frantic fawn from the same hiding spot. I was dismayed to realize she’d been in the drainage well throughout the storm and pounding rain. Why hadn’t her mother come for her? With a clatter of tiny hooves across the driveway, she bolted into the dark.
Yesterday I was relieved to see her with mama again. At least I think it’s her. I want to believe it’s her. When I walked out of the house to my car, I surprised them both during a midday siesta next to the corten planter in front of the house. The skittish baby leapt up into the sedge lawn, prepared to flee. But mama just stood up and waited, and baby calmed down and waited too. I took this picture as I was driving off. A moment later, baby was nursing and they were settling in again.
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