She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
–William Wordsworth, Three Years She Grew (1799)
Had my first sighting of a fawn for this spring yesterday. First saw it with its mom early in the afternoon as I was on the path in the woods to the studio. They were walking away from me headed towards the nearby creek and the pond just beyond that. I couldn’t tell much from the glimpse through the trees but mom turned and watched, interested and aware of me but not alarmed. Calm.
A couple of hours later I headed back the other way and as I emerged from the path on to our driveway, I saw the two of them again just below me, only a very short distance from the spot in the woods where I had spotted them earlier. I could see them better now in the opening. Mom still was not too concerned about my presence, directing most of her attention to her baby. From the stiff legged gait on those new gangly legs and the manner in which mom was continuing to lick its fur clean, I believe that the fawn had come into this world not too long before I had spied them earlier.
It was most likely its first look at its new home and the mother who would guide it through the perils of being a little creature in an often harsh world.
Welcome, little one.
There is something energizing in seeing the first spawns of springs. Though we fret about the hardships and dangers they face– the coyotes and other predators along with the cars on the road beyond our driveway, to name a couple– the sight of seeing them bound around the property as they discover the speed and agility in their legs always makes me smile.
That is real joy.
By the way Mom easily accepted my presence, I would guess she herself was once such a fawn in these same woods. I most likely smiled at her first bounds as a fawn. Most likely watched her sleeping on the lawn just outside the windows of my studio. She seems like such an old hand at this, I probably have even watched her nurse other fawns in prior years. Unless there is some very distinct marking, it’s hard to tell one deer from year to year. But I am pretty sure this mom and her mom and moms for years before them, most likely made these woods their home.
It’s not a bad place to dwell. Plenty to eat. It’s lush green in the spring and into the summer since we don’t mow as much as we once did. Plue there is water throughout the year. Even when it gets extremely dry as it sometimes has in recent years, there are small springs a short way up the hill that run year-round and create puddles in the dry creek bed. And it is relatively safe. During hunting season our small family of deer often find sanctuary around the studio and in the pines between my studio and our neighbors, a spot that is never hunted. The deer know this and, I think, appreciate it.
New life, in the form of the first fawn, is here.
Soon we will be seeing baby raccoons scurrying around and climbing all over everything. We have already seen the first baby bear cubs. Well, we saw their eyes up in the trees behind our house a few nights ago as their large mom sat on the edge of our lawn between those eyes and our house, glaring at the house for the longest time and emitting a few growly grunts. We let her be, even though she was there to rip down the suet cakes we have out for the birds and tip over the bird bath. Maybe tip over the garbage can.
It’s okay, that’s their job.
Welcome to this place, little ones. It can be a harsh world sometimes but there’s nothing better. Looking forward to seeing you around.