all photos by Jonathan Schechter
(photo #1 viewed from barn looking down into my meadow, the next 3 from edge of the meadow near the barn)


Mowing of the field beneath my barn now must wait. We are in the season of the fawn.  A few days
 ago I noticed a pair of ears poking up above the tall grasses. I smiled.
 Today I realized there were two sets of alert ears almost hidden in the grasses and a doe, a doe I
have come to know well the past few months - a creature that accepts me as part of the landscape - 
was loitering at the edge of the woods.  She did not flee.
I went back to the house and armed with my camera I walked out on the creaky old boards of the
barn and slowly stepped over broken boards and gaps until I reached the eastern open side with a view
of the meadow below. One fawn stayed low and out of sight, the other, perhaps in response to my
creaky steps, stood and looked around. (Note how the spots of a fawn offer camouflage)
  The doe was nowhere to be seen.
I know she was near.

Fawns do not get lost.  Yet every year we hear tales of well meaning people trying to rescue a lost 
fawn. The doe stays away from her nearly scentless fawns except to nurse. A coyote, domestic dog,
 or other predator would have to stumble on it to find it, or follow the trampled scented path created
 by humans walking back for a second or third look. 
The kindness thing you can do for a fawn you encounter is to turn your back and walk away. 
Consider that the rules of engagement. That shows love for and respect of nature's way.

EPILOGUE:  A few minutes after posting this blog I went back outside to see what the ruckus
was; crows were louding calling.  Crows were mobbing a red-tailed hawk. And I was not the only
 one looking towards the tree top noise~!
My twin fawns were at the edge of the barn posed just perfectly. I stayed on my side of the fence
and clicked away! What a great end of the day, for the inquistive fawns and me.