There is something infinitely beautiful about a newborn fawn. The unique size; small, fragile and camouflaged to perfection. The persistence of the infant to walk, followed by the urge to nurse are instinctively present in the fawn at birth. Legs wobble and weave as the fawn tries to stand his ground attempting to take steps only to stumble and fall. Mom is watching closely, nudging and licking his body. The baby begins to see his new world. He stops and rests for a few seconds; his mother encourages him to nurse. He thinks to himself as he tastes his first sip of milk, "Now that is what I am talking about! All this beautiful scenery and breakfast to boot!! I am so gonna love livin' here.." After nourishment and a nap, both mother and baby are ready to explore their surroundings.
About this time, Tommy and I entered the picture. We were on our way to town, maybe a mile from home, when we spotted our first fawn of the season. The little deer could not have been over a few days old. He was wobbly and so tiny, standing alone in the middle of our gravel road. His mom was in the road ditch about ten feet from him. He could not get his sense of direction correct. He tried his best to reach his mother; he could not make it happen.We stopped our car about twenty yards from the small deer, rolled down our windows and watched the sweet trials of a lost newborn.
I had forgotten my camera and did not get a photo of this awesome experience. But my mind's eye remembers it all. The baby took two steps in one direction and stopped. A minute or so later, he began wandering off to the wrong side of the road. His mother made a small bleating sound and the grass by the edge of the road moved slightly. The fawn turned to look at the moving grass. He turned his little body around and slowly took three steps...then sat down. The gravel hurt his tender feet; his newborn legs grew tired as he plopped down in the middle of the road to rest and looked around.
Tommy and I watched as he smelled the rocks, sand and dirt. We shut the motor off and literally stared in amazement as the baby deer, too small to walk across the road at one time, sat down in the wrong place to rest. His mother was anxious and trying her best to get him to get up and moving toward her. He looked at our car as if to wonder what kind of animal that big white thing was. He wasn't afraid. We received no more than a passing glance. Once again his mother had his attention. He finally got the the message to get up and move in her direction. He was anything but fast or graceful. He could not decide which end to raise first...neither one worked all that great. Finally, he raised his front two legs and the rear end--more or less-- followed. He was standing up...again. Slowly, ever so slowly he walked toward his mother and into the tall green grass. In three seconds, they were gone.
Tommy and I sat there a few minutes longer, talking and laughing, remembering the mini movie nature had provided for us. Suddenly going to the theater to see, "Jurassic World" seemed a little off kilter. We had just seen Mother Nature at her best. We weren't up for watching Mother Nature in a rage today. We decided to drive the back roads and enjoy the sights, sounds and aromas of small uncivilized spots of ground. While we were at it, we hoped to witness another miracle.
The miracle of life is everywhere this time of year. The fields are rich with random flowers growing and thriving in places people never planted. Queen Anne's lace accents orange day lilies. Yellow and white daises snuggle behind, across and in front of the lilies. Blue bonnets ramble through the ditches, and fields. Next year all these plants will multiply and appear in the same unusual places...cow pastures, road ditches, wood lots and forests. People will drive down old gravel roads and think of the beauty they are viewing. For a few minutes or a few hours, all appears right in their corner of the world.
The photo of the fawn was taken from a calendar. All rights belong to the photographer. The daylilies are my photo.
No comments:
Post a Comment