Fawn Caught in Traffic – Photo: L. Weikel

Good Deed For the Day                                                      

No, I don’t have a good deed to report for this day, but I do have a teeny tiny story to tell from a couple weeks ago.

I’d almost forgotten about it, as a matter of fact. But since I’ve been sort of training myself to take photos whenever I see something odd or beautiful or breathtaking or troubling – because I might be inspired to share it with all of you – I was just reminded of the incident when I came upon the photo I took. (Score one for the 1111 Devotion!)

Fawn Meets the 202 Bypass

As you can see from the photo above, earlier this month I encountered this little baby in the middle of a major intersection – Route 202 and something else (I can’t remember offhand the name of it). As luck would have it, I was the first car approaching the intersection to get into the left hand turn lane on the 202 bypass.

I could not believe my eyes, though, as I pulled up to the light. I saw that sweet little fawn out there in the middle of the intersection, its legs splayed in a way that only babies’ legs go, and I immediately felt a whoosh of protective Mommy energy rise up within me.

My eyes swept from left to right, assessing the traffic situation. The cars and that massive cement truck facing both the fawn and me were of particular concern. I couldn’t imagine the terror the fawn would feel if the cement truck started shifting through its 16 or 22 gears, jerkily lumbering toward it.

I was also petrified that someone – somebody not paying attention, or lost in a swirl of thoughts about where they were headed or the phone call they just had (or were having), or simply hell-bent on getting to their next destination as quickly as possible – would just plow through the intersection blindly and not even realize there was a fawn there.

As I say, massive protective instincts kicked in.

A Moment Frozen in Time

In that moment that I first saw the fawn and realized its predicament, it seemed as though everyone was frozen. As I said above, my eyes swept the scene. Convinced that no one was going to ram through imminently, but not sure if everyone was paying attention or saw the little one, I moved my car slowly toward the baby, giving it wide enough birth that it would not assume I was headed toward it, but close enough to sort of corral it toward me and away from the direction of the cement truck.

I’d put my window down and, as I am wont to do whenever I see an animal, I started speaking to it, calling to it and trying to assuage its fear even the tiniest bit by exuding a sense of kindness and care in my voice.

Have You Ever Heard a Fawn Bleat?

Much to my astonishment, it looked at me, wide-eyed, and it bleated. Over and over, this little baby kept vocalizing for its mommy (I guess) as its tiny hooves slipped on the pavement as it tried to run but couldn’t quite get all four of its legs to act in concert. I turned my car more toward the baby, herding it toward the grass and small grove of trees that lay catty-corner to my left.

I cooed to it. It kept bleating. It stopped trying to run and seemed to shake itself calm.

My instinct was to stop my car and physically get out and herd it to safety, defying anyone to hit me with their vehicle. I resisted acting upon that, though. I thought, “Only if I have to.”

In the meantime, I continued talking to it, and at one point I got within four or five feet. I could almost reach out my window and touch it. All the while, it kept bleating and bleating. Its cries were just so…young.

I Felt the Collective (Good) Will of Everyone Watching

I’m glad to say it didn’t mess around. It didn’t fight moving in the direction I was guiding it, and it did manage to stumble up the curb and onto the grass. I immediately returned my attention to where my car had ended up and got myself out from in front of the cars facing me immediately to my left, and proceeded on my way.

I was so grateful that not one horn was beeped at me (this all took place in the midst of that busy intersection) throughout this process. No cars even crept forward or acted impatiently (that I noticed, anyway). In fact, I swear I felt the collective will of all of us who were aware of this little fawn’s plight working together to get it to safety.

After reaching my destination, I decided to return home the same way I’d come. Obviously, I hoped against hope I wouldn’t find its little body lifeless at the side of the road, having made a bad choice to turn back into the intersection.

I’m happy to report – there was no sign of the baby anywhere.

Mission accomplished.

(T-856)