The Return of Courage

On October 15, Courage our deer with the injured leg returned.  She had been missing for six days following a period of very heavy vehicle traffic on the previous Sunday. Sadly, one of her twin fawns had died about three weeks earlier after being hit by a car.  Even after it's death, Courage and her remaining fawn were daily visitors to our yard.  

Several times I had scanned the sky on our side of the mountain for signs of any of the carrion eaters: ravens, crows and vultures that screech out the news of a death. There were none. 

Courage's remaining fawn returned to our yard several times a day, sometimes obviously waiting for her. Below, he looks like a miniature adult dwarfed by interrupted fern and large hosta leaves.

Here is a closeup of his head.  Looking at it closely, you can see the brown spot between his ear and eye where he will someday have horns.

Six days after her disappearance, the little buck was lingering in our yard, sampling the flowers in my garden.  On the other side of the garage out of his view, I saw Courage, at long last, making her way slowly down the hill.  I was so happy to see that she was still alive. I watched to see the reunion, and suddenly, the little one was beside her excitedly trying to nurse.

Because most fawns are weaned by the time their spots are gone, the little one began to wear out his welcome.  Courage kept moving every time he nuzzled her.  Eventually, a little nip sent him to a clump of grass where he began to eat grown-up food.

Courage and her fawn now show up late every afternoon, lingering sometimes until almost dark.  She continues to lie down outside of our fence while he slips in through the hole that we haven't yet fixed.  Below, Courage grazes and can be partially seen although the Japanese Maple blocks most of her from our view.

This little deer has become a regular visitor to our garden.  Today, I pounded on the window when I saw him browsing from a container in which I had just planted pansies.  Like a cartoon character, he looked up with a yellow pansy dangling from between his teeth.  I finally opened up the porch door and soundly scolded him for his choice of snacks.  Totally unafraid, he obliged by moving away from the pansies and began feeding on some lily leaves that will soon fall victim to a freeze anyhow.

                                       

I realize that someday, he may become a major nuisance to us, but for now, he is just so darn cute. It's for special moments like these, that I was so irresistibly drawn back to these mountains and rural life.