When we moved into our current home a few years ago we were excited to see an abundance of wildlife in our backyard, especially the families of deer. Our neighbors shared that the little nook (honestly, I don’t know what it’s called – a glen?) in our yard’s been a birthing spot for deer for years and years. Each new family on our quiet street learns about the original inhabitants.
True enough, every year we’ve been treated to engaging views of wobbly-legged newborn deer and we’ve watched intently as the youngsters learn how to nibble from the cherry tree and gobble the last of the fall bounty when the apple tree unloads after the first substantial frost. A joy.
Still, I know folks who hate the deer – lambasting them for eating their prized hydrangeas and peonies. I mean…we like the flowers, too, but we figure there’s enough to go around to provide edibles for the first ‘residents’ and blooms aplenty for cut flower arrangements inside.
But nature’s more than blooms and beauty. This year we saw more coyote than ever before roaming the area – often during daylight hours. One of our neighbors had the terrible misfortune of finding a young deer that succumbed to the food chain – killed, no doubt by hungry coyotes. I didn’t ask what they did with the remains. I didn’t want to know – I was just relieved that it didn’t happen in our yard or in a sightline that I couldn’t ignore.
Last week? The hubs and I discussed the fact that the deer have been sparse; very few nibbling on the cherries that are just now popping out on the lone productive tree. Not long after, one sweet old deer, like a long-lost friend, hobbled through the yard. I recognized the distinctive marking on her left hind quarter from her visits last year. Somewhere along the way, this protective mama must’ve gotten into a tussle with a predator because she bore the scars in gnarly white gash, like graffiti in her fur.
As we took a closer look, she seemed exhausted. Running for her life from a coyote the night before? And then I worried about where her ‘peeps’ were. In addition to limping, she was alone, and my heart was breaking. Just then, she turned and decided to sit for a spell, in the cool grass next to the field.
The hubster took a few photos of her as she nibbled and the one I’ve included (above) was the best of the bunch but it doesn’t convey the angst in her eyes. She watched us, unmoving as she ate, even though we were quite close. Comforted by the fact that she didn’t see us as predators, we placed a couple of apples near her, hoping that she might nosh on those in addition to the grass.
About thirty minutes later, she stood, giving us (and the apples) only a passing glance as she struggled to walk into the tall grass (and I hoped) toward safety.
A few days passed and there was no sign of her until yesterday when we spotted her laying down, again, slowly eating, near the safe nook/glen. Still no signs of her family…still showing signs of injury.
This morning I woke up thinking of her – wondering if she survived the night. Hoping so with all my heart. I know nature’s way is nature’s way, but it doesn’t make the viewing of pain any less difficult. Here’s to you, my dear, sweet deer.
Vicki ❤
Victoria Ponders 
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