This morning, five deer grazed languidly at the farthest edge of the meadow near the treeline. Some minutes after the small herd moved away, a lone doe hopped into view.
She was familiar to me. I have posted about her before–the doe with the missing leg, whose home base is located in our area. The University of Michigan’s Museum of Zoology website says odocoileus virginianus (the white-tail) lives an average of two years in the wild, but our semi-suburban region lacks large predators (other than cars) and offers quite a bit of protection. Maximum lifespan in the wild is 10 years, and I know that this particular doe is at least eight years old by now. She seems as spry as ever; very likely she is gestating another fawn.
The deer are pests in many ways–gardeners despair of deer depredations of ornamentals and native plants alike, and we also worry about their role as hosts of Lyme disease. Nevertheless, the deer and I co-exist peacefully, and their appearance at the fringe of the grassy field has signaled spring this year as they emerge from having “yarded up” in their camouflaged territory during the deep, snowy winter. They reestablish their familiar trails through the vines, thorn bushes, and grasses.
And there is something soothing about the cyclicality of the roving deer, the reappearance of their well-worn paths…even about my annoyance at finding the crocus leaves cropped and the branches of the pear trees nibbled.
Also, do forgive the pun–but what could be more endearing than this sight from May of 2011?
Although I now live in the South, I spent over four decades in the Rocky Mountains, most of it in the high plains desert that is Wyoming. There, I met many a mule deer and just recently, PBS’ Nature broadcast this story of a man who “touched the wild.” .http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/touching-the-wild/touching-the-wild/8679/
Your beautiful post reminded me of my Wyoming years as well as this broadcast. It came as no surprise to me that you and the deer co-exist. Loved this post, Ann.
[…] morning, early, in the long grass, the three-legged doe gave birth to a fawn. I watched as they emerged from the meadow and headed for the woodlot together, mama still licking […]