What We Look For

At Christmas last year, our local gas station gave out calendars with beautiful photos. Each page has a quote, and this month's intrigued me:

 "What we see depends mainly on what we look for."

The does birth their fawns this time of year, and we're always on the lookout for them.

On Friday evening, just as night fell, with a full moon rising, Don came into my studio.
"Con, do you have a pair of binoculars that you can see out of pretty well?", he asked.
"Yeah, that green pair in the kitchen."
"Can you bring it and come to the bedroom?"

If I've learned anything about Don over the years, it's that when asks me something like this in his calmest voice, it's worth paying attention to. He also has very sharp vision, and half of the interesting things I see around here are ones he's spotted first. I didn't waste any time, but grabbed the binoculars and joined him at the bedroom window.

He pointed to an object not far away, between the shop and the bedroom. "Does that look to you like a fawn?" I squinted through the binoculars. It did indeed. It was tiny and brown, with white markings, and it was laying perfectly still. We thought we could even make out a tiny ear.

This would be the second time a doe had dropped her fawn near the house. Last year around this time, we had found a newborn fawn tucked in a tight ball laying on the ground not far from the deck. With the prevalence of coyotes in this area, it seems to us to be a pretty good idea, and we speculate, wishfully, I suppose, that the deer actually sense that their fawns are safer near us.

I went to bed this time dreaming about the fawn, hoping it would still be around in the morning, and visualizing the pictures I would take.

In the morning, it was still there. Don was leaving early to meet a friend, and had to get the pickup out of the shop. I stationed myself at the bedroom window to see if the little thing would be disrupted. When Don drove out, it didn't move.

It was getting lighter, and I held the binoculars up again. A minute later, I was out the door, shaking my head and laughing at the brown and white, fawn shaped rock that lay between the house and the shop.

Sometimes what we look for has a great deal to do with what we see.

Linking with Saturday's Critters

Ozark Velvet

 A group of deer frequent our surroundings,

 and we sometimes think of them as our herd, 

but they watch us too, and probably think of us as their people.

We never tire of seeing the little ones,

 those inquisitive fawns...

 as they get acquainted with their neighbors...

and trot off obediently behind their mothers.

The big bucks, we see them rarely.

With new velvet, their antlers are tender,

and they are, for the most part, nocturnal.

A group of them came through our field a few days ago,

before full light.

They didn't stay long, 

and they seemed aware of the stir they were causing among the does and fawns.

This young fork horn buck still eats with his sister.

He watched the parade of large bucks,

and he dreams of the day he can run with the big boys.

Linking with Photo Art Friday,
 Camera Critters,
and Your Sunday Best

First Rain

Wind kicked up Saturday just after deer had come out into the field,

and then the rain started, softly at first, then gaining momentum.

The deer stood in the open, absorbing every drop, 

until the sky exploded with light and sound, and water came down in hard stripes, 

sending them into the cover of the woods. 

When the storm abated, a fawn ventured out with its mother,

wonder-struck at the fireworks and the water still falling from the sky,

the cool fresh air and the smell of wet earth.

And then it ran; 

it ran for the joy of being alive and being young and fast

and feeling soft wet ground underfoot for the first time in its short life.

It ran like lightning,

flashing by the field in broad circles.

The others watched and remembered,

and then a doe and a young buck joined the romp,

all three chasing the wind, fueled by the rain.

It was over in a few minutes.

Sunday morning was quiet;
moisture hung low over the hills, swelled the pond, straightened bent flowers

and ended the drought.




God's voice thunders in marvelous ways;

He does great things beyond our understanding.

He says to... the rain shower, "Be a mighty downpour".

So that everyone He has made may know His work,

He stops all people from their labor.

  The animals take cover...


Job 37:5-8





Linking with Weekly Top Shot
and Camera Critters

Finally, Fawns!

Of the seven does that frequent our surroundings, 

most of them were pregnant this year and have now dropped their fawns, 

but we've only caught glimpses of those small elusive creatures.  

Last week, late in the day, 

a tiny one made the mistake of getting in the way of the grownups' dinner.  

It was agile and quick, and stayed just out of reach of horns and hooves.

When it tired of the game, it found its mama, and they wandered off to the pond.

Last night, when the sun was low in the sky,

 one tiny spotted fawn appeared down the hill in the grass and Queen Anne's lace...  

... and browsed until its mother called.

Do you watch when the doe bears her fawn?

Do you count the months till they bear?

Do you know the time they give birth?

They crouch down and bring forth their young;

their labor pains are ended.

Their young thrive and grow strong in the wilds;

they leave and do not return.

Job 39:1-4

Morning Encounter

Barley and I walked early this morning, before full light.  As we walked up the hill on the country road near ours, we heard the snorts of startled deer in the woods, then saw some movement, and in a flash, 2 does had crossed the road very close to us.  Following them was the tiniest fawn, who ran by, a little slower, not more than one yard from where Barley and I stood.  It ran to the edge of the road, and paused in the high weeds, where it turned and looked back at us.  Barley started to walk toward the fawn, but I called to him softly and he stopped where he was.  The 2 of them just stood and looked at each other for a few minutes, then the fawn ran off to join its mama.  I imagine both Barley and the fawn are having interesting dreams tonight.  I know I will. 

  

Tree Frog Blog

Don and I were talking yesterday about things we hadn't seen this year.  The Baltimore Orioles didn't swing by on their annual migration, and we've been seeing them in April for the past several years.  We've seen a few chipmunks this year, but not many, and the Carolina Wrens, who have been nesting on the front porch for a few years, have been not been seen or heard from.  Hummingbirds are few in number.  But what we've missed the most are the fawns.  Several does frequent the area around our house, and they have all obviously dropped their fawns, but we hadn't seen one yet.  And it's hard to wait.

In the meantime, there are other things that merit noticing.  Take tree frogs, for example.  Sunday morning, as I watered plants, I saw a small green tree frog on the Impatiens, about 5/8" long from nose to rump.  When I stooped to get a better look, I realized that I was only inches from a second frog, then a third hopped out from under the leaves, and a fourth.  I wondered just how many frogs might be hiding there, and I also wondered how long they've been there without me even noticing them.  So now I'm trying to pay more attention.  Yesterday morning there was at least 1 tree frog on the Geranium, and 2 on the Salvia, stacked on the leaves like passengers in the sleeping compartment of a train.

And then, before full light this morning, Don called me to the window and pointed to the field below.  There, running along at its mother's heels, was a tiny spotted fawn. The pair wasn't in sight more than a few minutes, but we decided, in that short span of time, that some things are definitely worth the wait.