Earlier this week, a doe was hit in front of our farm.
I heard the thud, Dave checked in with the truck...they
were fine, the deer was not. Remarkably, Dave noticed all of our
barn cats out in the front yard in the dusk...near to where the
doe died. He said it felt quite odd, like perhaps they had heard her
last call & come out, checking on her too.
The next morning Dave moved the doe to the woods across from us.
That evening, just after dark, he heard a bleating sound coming from the
corn field near our driveway, near where the doe was hit.
We are certain she left a fawn.
We sought out a nature rescue in Colfax equipped to accept orphaned deer.
She advised us on how to contain the fawn, what to give it (Gatorade),
and to call her if we found it.
Dave walked the area where he heard the sound the next morning. Today, I
walked the corn field and the meadow at its edge. Walking, calling out softly,
looking for any sign of trampled ground, of a scared fawn. But there are acres
of corn planted in tunneled rows. There is dense growth at the edge & around.
To find an animal, even the size of a fawn, is like seeking a needle in a haystack.
So we wait & listen. We will wait & hope. Nature cannot be controlled,
it moves in its own way. It breaks our heart when we are helpless. Like that nest blown
from the treetop, that rabbit in the tallons of a hawk, that mother combing the