Another Deer Another Dollar – Day 332

Another Deer Encounter – Photo: L. Weikel

Another Deer Another Dollar    

After my session with a client today, I made a quick stop for a couple groceries. As I left the store, I decided to take the slightly more circuitous route home, which is actually my favorite way because it takes me alongside my beloved Tohickon. Almost always, when I take that route, I also give in to the temptation to stop and write for several minutes. Since it was drizzling out, I figured Karl wouldn’t want to walk, so the prospect of writing a page or two in my journal beckoned enticingly.

As I rounded the corner and approached a turnoff close to the creek, I encountered this sight: a man with his van door askew, seeming to herd a small deer into the front seat. I stopped a fair distance away, trying to get a better idea of what, exactly, I was seeing, and not wanting to add to the confusion by pulling up too close.

Photo: L. Weikel

I hadn’t been observing for more than minute when I realized the little one was definitely confused, and didn’t seem to be readily scampering off into the brush as the man was clearly trying to persuade it to do. It was hard to tell whether her sight was impaired, but it was clear she didn’t know which way to turn.

Dazed and Definitely Confused

At first, I rolled down my window and asked if I could help. His vehicle was a little over the center line and it was dangerously close to a corner where I know people often approach at a good, if oblivious, clip. The man welcomed my help, thinking maybe the two of us could herd her with more success. He said he’d just come upon her before I arrived and she’d almost walked right into the side of his van. He believed she’d recently been hit by a car – grazed, perhaps – but was probably going into shock.

Together, and with the rather aggressive and unexpected aid of another man who’d stopped behind my car, jumped out of his vehicle, and insisted upon yelling and waving his hands at her, trying to scare or bully her into getting off the road, we at least managed to steer her to the side of the road that had a deer trail leading off into the brush. She refused to get off the road, though.

Photo: L. Weikel

Rush Hour

When cars started piling up in both directions (remember, this is a country road; the trickier part was that it was right around 5:30 p.m.), the first man impulsively picked the deer up and placed her on the bank of weeds and brush just off the paved portion of the road.

Stunned, she just stood there, not more than two feet from the edge of the road. The drizzle had turned to a more steady rain by this time, and the four or five cars that had stopped in both directions had taken turns and moved along. Three or four stopped to ask if they could help. Most, sadly, barely put their foot near the brakes at all as they rounded the turn and came upon us.

Calling For Backup

As soon as he picked her up and placed her on the side of the road, the first man left. Another had parked his pickup on a triangular patch of land about a hundred feet away and came over to the deer and me. He suggested we call the police. Instead, I tried calling AARK, our local wildlife rehabilitation foundation, but of course they were closed for the day. No matter what we did, we could not get her to budge from where the first man had ‘deposited’ her. And neither one of us trusted that she wouldn’t immediately dart back into the road if we left her where she was.

Photo: L. Weikel

 

I called 911 and let them know our situation. About 15 minutes later, an officer arrived. In the meantime, the man, who introduced himself as John, and I stuck with her. As you can see from my photos, she let me get very close to her; in fact, I petted her head and neck, cooed and spoke softly to her the entire time, telling her that she needed to get further off the road and bed down. John said he’d heard a young deer had been wandering around the neighborhood the past few days; word was that the mother had been hit and killed and the youngster was lost without her.

When the policeman arrived, he was very sympathetic, but his options were limited. In fact, because she was not in the roadway at the moment, he could not technically do anything.  (If she had been in the road…the option was not a pretty one.)

Banged and Confused

Neither John nor I were comfortable leaving her so close to the road, nor did we want her to be ‘put down.’ Being up so close to her, it did look like she’d been hit – grazed or banged her head – because she had some blood coming out of her nostril. Not a lot. And there was a little on her foreleg, but she clearly had no broken bones.

I was reminded of my screech owl, Hootie, who’d flown into my driver side door one snowy January night and nearly knocked himself out. (A story for another day.) That experience had taught me that animals can be extremely resilient if given an opportunity to heal.

Photo: L. Weikel

Into the Thicket

Once I realized we humans were just hemming and hawing, I decided to do something. I climbed up the rain-slicked, slight embankment so I was right beside her (hoping she wouldn’t get scared and dart out toward John and the policeman), picked her up, and started guiding her deeper into the thicket. I was delighted to see the vast amounts of poison ivy all around my sandaled feet. At one point, she balked and suddenly backed up, squeezing between my legs. The weeds and pricker bushes were positioned such that I had to carefully pick my way around them and circle back to get behind her once again and start all over.

All this time, John, the policeman, and another person who’d pulled up (I believe John’s daughter-in-law, from their conversation) were chatting and, I assume, watching me act as an erstwhile deerpoke-cum-whisperer. After a few more mutually clumsy thrusts and lunges deeper into the brush, she calmly looked up at me, bent her forelegs and knelt in front of me. She then gently settled herself into a bedding position and assured me she’d stay for the night.

It was raining softly. I was a bit chilled. But she was at least somewhat protected from the harshest of the elements. We all agreed that we’d done what we could, and it was up to her and Mother Nature to see if she would survive.

Yet another deer encounter…hopefully this one has a good ending as well.

 

Resting peacefully – Photos: L. Weikel

(T-779)

Good Deed For the Day – Day 255

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.

Closer Look – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-856)