Coming down to my garden a few days ago, I watched this young fawn still covered with white spots nestle itself into the grass right outside the garden fence. It hardly seemed to notice me. Its mother, though, in the nearby woods watched me nervously.
I raced back to the house to fetch my camera hoping that bambi would still be there when I got back. When I returned, it lay in the sun-lit grass, well camouflaged. I may have never found it there if I had not seen it stagger around on its gangly legs.
And there it was, peacefully warming itself in the morning sun.
I approached it carefully and was able to pull some of the tall grasses out of the way all the while holding my breath. How close could I get before its instinct to remain totally still was over-ridden by the urge to flee?
Suddenly, bambi bolted out of its grassy hideaway, uttering a sound that reminded me very much of a sheep’s ba-a-h, but with an “m” instead: “ma-a-h.”
I had never heard a deer make a sound like that. Snorting, yes.
A kind of squealing when two bambis chased each other around the pond, yes.
I glanced towards the woods half-way expecting mama deer to show up ready to defend her youngin. To my disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen. What kind of a mother was she if she did not respond to her baby’s distress call?
Slightly sorry for having caused the little one a bit of anxiety but with my heart full of joy and wonder, I finally found my way into the garden for my morning chores.
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