When a Plan Comes Together

here she (or he?) is... she didn't even pause to fold her
legs under her.

It is a rare privilege to watch a Plan come together perfectly.  Yesterday Taffy and I were putting the flags up on the Frisbee Golf Targets. We have a wonderful, fun, challenging, laugh-filled 9 hole Disc Golf course right across the road in our back fields.

Coming home, we extended our walk into the far field, home to cross country training fences for the horses and to large amounts of blueberries, strawberries, blackberries...  And deer.

Before I zoomed in the shot. Remarkably well hidden,
for a small deer lying in a patch of sand!

It's not unusual to see deer in those fields.  I think our record was 20 in one hike a few years ago in the autumn.  The property is in a management agreement with the M.N.R., to be managed for wildlife, which means we do keep the fields mowed and open.  We don't mow until late in the autumn, however.  We need to keep the milkweed for the monarchs, and the tall grass for the deer, and a myriad of ground nesting birds that like that field too.  There is a family of bluebirds there, a woodpecker nest, and a large flock of wild turkeys.

I'm very close, and she's still tough to see

I saw the doe and her tiny fawn about the same time that she saw us. And -- wow -- I got to watch the Plan executed to perfection.  You could almost hear the doe tell the fawn, "DROP!".  The tiny one simply collapsed.  And let me tell you, if I had not seen her go down, I would never have found her.  The doe headed for the bush, in huge pronking leaps, whistling loudly to draw attention to herself.  Taffy was a very good dog -- she came right to me when I called, although she was watching the doe, and tugging at my sleeve to tell me "there is a deer right over there. See? See?  Can I chase her????"  All her doggy attention was on the doe who stood just inside the tree line about 100 feet away, snorting loudly.

(Mom said if I shut my eyes, you can't see me...)

All my attention was on finding the fawn.  Even seeing her go down, knowing the approximate location, it was a challenge.  This is a survival technique for the tiny ones. Although they can get up and run without moments of birth, they don't have much stamina. Rather than exhaust themselves trying to outrun a predator, they hide.  Their spotted coats afford amazing camouflage. The fawns at this age have no scent. They understand that when Mom says "Don't Move," she means DON'T MOVE. At all. 

That pile of dried grass? That's a fawn. I'm about 20
feet away from her.

Without scent, visual or auditory clues, it is very hard indeed to find the fawn. Mom does her bit by drawing attention to herself -- predators (and large apricot poodles) are only too happy to take that bait.

Meanwhile, I played "Spot the Fawn".  Even if I had not had Taffy at heel, I  would not have gone closer.  Thankfully, I've got a decent telephoto on my little Canon Powershot. 

Spot the Fawn. She is right in the centre of this picture.

It is possible to walk right up to a hiding fawn. Every year people make that mistake, thinking the fawn has been abandoned. It is possible for the doe to leave the fawn hiding for many hours, so just back off.  Never touch a fawn unless it has been to your certain knowledge alone for over 12 hours.  I don't care how cute you think it is, YOU are not going to be a better parent so leave be, and let Mom come back and do her job.

What I found extraordinary was that this fawn had not even taken the time to fold her long legs under her body. When Mom said "Down", she downed...

I also found her endearingly, heartbreakingly beautiful, and right there forgave her for all the flowers she is going to eat in my future gardens.