The times I stop and stare at beauty bring me an incomparable inner calm. “Alive in nature” brings me many life well-lived moments. Here are some.
I’ve been after some fawns the last several weeks trying to get photographs.
It was about five weeks ago I noticed two big does moving very slowly through the brush. I surprised them down by the orchard where they were grazing. They usually cut back through the creek bed, and go through the barbed wire in the pasture to head up to the highest, most protected spot on the very tip top of our hill well up behind the house. Normally when I come upon them they bound up the hill in large hops. Now “the girls” were getting pretty big, still pregnant. Both of them would labor up the steep incline with slow deliberate steps. I never heard a deer groan, but they were doing some huffing and puffing; I knew they’d be delivering soon.
For the next week I didn’t see much action. No comings and goings on my early morning jog. Then one morning as I started down the driveway on my early morning run, I saw the big doe stop and stare at me on my left, looking a bit gaunt, then a flash of golden brown caught my eye to the right.
I heard a thump and saw a fawn take a summer sault that looked kind of like a Bambi-on-ice moment. He was no bigger than a cocker spaniel. He jumped up and immediately ran into his twin; then they both took off. I had no idea those legs were so clumsy at first. It must have been day one or two.
A couple of days later, the same thing happened. I had spotted the big doe grazing in the neighbor’s pasture. She was in a middle of a ten acre piece. When she saw me heading back home down the driveway she took off toward my house as fast as she could run, her mouth was hanging open she was breathing so hard. I never saw her run like that. I found out these coast Mule deer can hit 35 miles an hour. Then once I got farther down the driveway I knew why. Just then I startled the dozing fawns sleeping under a hedge.
One darted out, and suddenly I was between the two. They froze for a second not knowing what to do. Although the fawns weren’t completely panicked, recognizing her panic they jumped into action, darting into each other chaotically and stumbled a few times before getting away.
I never seemed to have my camera on me for those encounters, so rather than jogging some days, I fast walked my usual route, with camera on and in hand, and finally got lucky. The twins are getting bigger every day, and now the other doe has a single fawn. When the babies, moms, and two yearlings get together, it’s quite a crowd. I found them all in the orchard again, eating my stone fruit, staring at me unconcernedly, jawing around the pits, and then spitting them out.
Watching them, watching me, I see they are less alarmed than they were. When I'm driving home from work, now they are allowing me to get out of my car, give me time to get my camera, and walk a few steps toward them to snap off some shots, before they slowly amble away. I appreciate they are wild, and won’t get too close, but I do appreciate too, being able to record and share their beauty, postures and expressions.
This is a good example of the "cold shoulder" pose. I am grateful for these quiet moments. I’m not nearly as resentful as I once was when they feast on my rose bushes I’ve given up, they’re their roses now.
I surprised this yearling with the "who me?" look (below), and as you can see she was hiding that rose petal on her left wither that I captured in the next shot.
Alive in nature, and with good taste in roses.
Dr. Karen J. Krahl, D.C. owner/doctor Synergy Health Group. The link to one of my blogs is www.synergyhealthgroup.com, click on "Health News" on the banner at the top of my home page and pick a topic.
More from living