Two Yards: How a Fawn’s Choice Explains Conservation in a Nutshell

Her spotted body an almost perfect cover, she has bedded down next to the birdbath which I just filled again an hour ago. I had gone outside in the early dark, the breezes whipping the blue spruce and pines, to pour big pitchersful of cool water for the wildlife in our 90+ heat. She darted across the yard to hide in the dense brush, to peek at me through the leaves, as I carted the water across the brown, parched grass.

For her, her ma, and her brother. The other two aren’t here today. For now.

Next door, my neighbor, universally known as (That Asshole)Jerry, is puttering around in his sterile back yard. There’s no shade. Lots of rocks. It’s a wasteland as far as the deer are concerned. Jerry would either shoo or shoot them, and they know it. He hates anything that touches the controlled sterility of his yard. If a single tendril of ivy dared to encroach on his yard, he’d be highly offended.

Which is why, for the last several weeks, the doe and her fawns have hung out with me.

Look, by the middle of August, most of my plants have already peaked and withered in the heat. What was left of my lilac bushes, they quietly munched. New growth has already begun, but the fawns will likely chew that back, too.