I just saved a baby deer. You know a cute adorable baby deer fawn.
Okay, so I was making hay, and I had decided to start with my prize hay meadow. The grasses were as tall as I was, thick and perfect. And of course I was using my trusty Scythe. Which for those of you that don't know, allows me to make hay by hand.
There is a wonderful rhythm that you fall into when you scythe. You cut, step pause, cut step pause. It's not noisy or messy. The hay falls into neat rows along your path. You can hear the wind in the trees and feel the grasses swaying around you. It is zen.
Until of course you are startled half out of your mind by a deer fawn leaping out of your path and running away into another part of the meadow.
So being me, I immediately went to the upper fields to scythe so that mom would have time to move junior. Which it turns out was a bad idea because, halfway through the second field I surprised another fawn. At which point we decided it was time for lunch.
So we get back and discover Mama is there. She has found her fawn, who is running around the cut meadow and playing. After a few minutes of eyeballing us warily mom and baby made off into the woods while looking goddamned majestic.
So we finish the upper meadow and return to my beautiful prize hay meadow of awesome.
Only to discover something horrible had happened.
It turns out the the first fawn I had seen that day had not ran off. Instead he had been trying to run off, and had gotten tangled in a section of fencing we had not yet removed.
Scott spotted him first. He called me over and pointed it out. I felt horrified. Not only had I scared the shit out of this little guy, I also owned the fencing that was now a live trap. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
There was only one thing to do. Get him out of there.
So I waded through the chest and waist high meadow to the line of fence. It was half laying down, so I had to be very careful not to step on the fence itself or it would bend down alarmingly. Halfway there my stomach did one of those flips that makes your skin crawl. He was caught in the big square fencing, so that his stomach was hooked over the wire with his legs through on either side. This wasn't going to be easy. I would have to pull each leg out separately, while he would be trying to kick me into a mushy pile of predator.
Gingerly, fearing the worst, I slowly slid up beside him. I was afraid to touch him. He couldn't kick me yet, but I was afraid that the moment I touched him he would start flailing and hurt himself further. The seconds dragged on while I stood there staring at this poor trapped wild thing while Scott said encouraging things like “When you touch him, he's gonna explode” and “watch out cause he's gonna kick the shit out of you.”
Deciding I just wouldn't think about it anymore I reached down and touched his rump. Nothing happened. He didn't move an inch. He was too exhausted. Carefully I reached down and gently but firmly grabbed his right leg. I had to be careful, because he had a nasty scrap on that leg, but it did not appear to be bleeding. Carefully I pulled the leg up and fed it down through the same hole his belly was in.
And that's when all hell broke loose.
Feeling his leg come free he began to thrash wildly, forgetting his left leg was still stuck, which made him panic even more. My first thought was 'oh god he is going to break his leg.' Also he began screaming at the top of his little deer lungs. Without stopping to think about the fact that he was not hanging as limp as a doll anymore I grabbed his left leg, and with a surprising deftnesses fed it back through the hole in the wire.
It was like movie scene. The fawn fell forward, scrambling to get his feet under him and pushing himself into the grasses. Time seemed to stop and slow down. Scott said something, but I didn't listen, I couldn't listen. I was watching my fawn. His spots stood out white as snow on his brown rump as the sun streamed down into the meadow, the edges of the scene softened by my intensity of that moment. He was moving both back legs. He was going to be okay.
At that point my brain caught up to the rest of what was going on and I realized that what Scott said was “here comes mom.”
And she was PISSED.
I have never heard deer make the sounds she was making. Remember that the grass is almost over my head. I could barely see her, but my god I could hear her. She was snorting and stamping and crashing through the brush like a motherfucking bear. At this point I realized that I was standing right by her fawn, who a few seconds ago was screaming bloody murder. Oh shit.
I ran like a little girl.
My brain, who never feels the need to clue me in on these moments, probably because I would fuck fleeing up somehow if it did, didn't come back to me until I was standing by the bunny shed. I called to Scott and together we made our way out of field.
We gave mom a good half hour to calm down before finishing off the meadow. We left the fawns section intact, and this morning he was gone. Which means that mom came back and moved him and that his legs were fine and holy crap I just saved a baby deer.
HOLY CRAP MONKEYS!
I'm... I'm awesome.