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

Birthright

The first tiny leaves are appearing on my rose bushes, and once again, probably irrationally, I'm hoping for a mass of luscious blossoms. 

Almost three years ago, after a series of mishaps, including an ice storm one year, and a late spring hard frost the next, my roses were struggling to make a comeback.

I looked out of my studio window one afternoon to see a new threat to my hopes for beauty and fragrance.  Two fawns had wandered near the house, and one of them decided to help himself to the rose bush.  He was much too winsome to chase away, and only when their mother called from the edge of the woods, did the two of them leave the rose bush for something far more nutritious.

Those cute little fawns grew up and had offspring who thought the roses were their birthright, and last year, the grandchildren were helping themselves, too.

As vegetation changes from year, so do the patterns of the wildlife.  The deer haven't been in evidence as much this year, and they seem more skittish when they are around, so maybe, just maybe, we'll have roses.  

Hope springs eternal.

Fawn Wash

From our raindrop covered window during a recent deluge, 

we watched 2 fawns take cover under a large leaning oak tree, 

where they laid and chewed their cud until the rain had passed.

Then they did a little stretch...

and a little shake...

then licked off their soaking wet coats.