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Praetorium Honoris

Thursday, May 30, 2019

Nature's Way

(Source)
The young doe was gravid, new life stirring within her as thousands of years of instinct drove her to seek a safe place to give birth. As she walked through the stillness of a cold, wet New England dawn, she found herself drawn to the place where she herself had been born, just a year ago.

There was low brush up against the side of a cliff of oddly shaped stone, the cliff faced the south so there would be warmth when the sun was out. The low lying brush would hide her young. She also knew that her herd had lived on this land for many years and that predators were few, though coyotes were sometimes scented on the north wind.

She settled in and waited, she knew not what she waited for, but instinct would tell her and be her guide. She didn't think, she didn't fret over the many things that could go wrong, she was a wild thing, a child of nature, she would do whatever instinct called her to do.

The first fawn was born just before the sun rose, the eastern horizon alight with the promise of a new day. The birth was easy, the young animal dropped to the soft ground and lay there trembling as its mother licked the fur of the young animal clean of evidence of its birth. When she was confident that her newborn was breathing and was well, she lay back down. Something wasn't quite right, she didn't know what it was, just that it was.

The two legged animals which shared the land with her herd were starting to arrive. She was alert and wary, but as they did not bother her or her fawn, she did not start or run. Which was just as well, she sensed that she was about to give birth again.

She moved to another low bush nearby, she could see and smell her firstborn, but she had to be ready to go through the birthing process again. Deep instinct told her something wasn't right, even though this was her first time, her species had been doing this for thousands of years, she somehow "knew" something was wrong.

The second fawn wasn't coming out, no matter how much she strained, shifted her body position, or moved, the young one seemed reluctant to be born. When the head broke free, she sniffed at it, licked it, almost willed it to be born. But it wasn't even trying, it wasn't moving at all.

Eventually the second fawn fell to the ground beneath the brush. It wasn't moving, the young doe licked at it for a long time, to no avail. Not knowing what else to do, she moved away from the stillborn little deer. Though she knew something was wrong, her instincts told her nothing in this instance. She had tried so hard to make the little one stir, now she was exhausted. So she lay back down...



All of that above played out beneath the southern facing windows of where I work. My lab is just inside that part of the building, a hallway separating the entrance to the lab from those windows. In the morning one of my co-workers mentioned that there was a deer just outside with a newborn. So yes, I went to look.

Sure enough, they were there. One perfect little fawn obeying instinct to not move unless its mother prodded it to do so. In that morning stillness, a number of us sensed that the miracle of nature being played out on the other side of the heavy glass wasn't quite over.

Word spread, more people came to see the spectacle. I was worried for the doe, she seemed stressed, whether it was from all of the spectators (the city bred among them doing stupid things like tapping on the glass, until told in no uncertain terms to "knock that off") or from the problems she was having with her second fawn.

It was a long struggle, during that struggle she would go over to her firstborn and nudge him and lick him. I watched as the little one took his first steps, awkward but game, the little guy made it to all fours for about five seconds before laying back down. I believe that he could sense that his mother was in distress.

Sometime in the afternoon she finally gave birth to a well-formed, but stillborn fawn. It is unusual for a yearling doe to have more than one fawn, but not that uncommon, it does happen. Whether she wasn't strong enough to push the second one out in time, or whether the second was already dead, I'll never know. All I know is that it took over five hours for that second birth.

Nature is harsh in its beauty, a lovely breathing new life laying not six feet from its stillborn sibling. A lesson as old as life on this planet, sometimes things go badly. The whys and wherefores are, to me, unfathomable. But the One who created all things has His reasons, of that I'm sure.

Still and all, as familiar as I am with Death, I hate seeing it touch something of such innocent beauty. Sometimes the Universe speaks in its outdoor voice, all we can do is listen, and wonder.

Sarge out.




48 comments:

  1. Interesting, I did not know deer matured that fast. Thank you for the information.

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    1. I didn't either until I did a bit of research.

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  2. How many of us don't realize/believe/think that so much of Nature is able to survive by eating some other part of Nature? A good many of the city folk that live amid the concrete/asphalt/lumber/steel jungle aren't ever exposed to Nature. Most zoos in the last century were poor imitations of Nature. Where I grew up it was the edge of a small city but woods were a block away, not a city park or maintained woods but WOODS. Saw lots of Nature then, even a black bear once.....it rambled one way while we scooted off the opposite way.... fast...... and quiet.

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    1. Nature is all around, even in the city with the birds and squirrels. City folk just don't look hard enough.

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    2. In the city people are too busy, too distracted. They tend to be focused on all that is eye level. Traffic, signs, lights, people all around. Out here in the mountains we tend to look up first - to say thank you and check the weather :) - and then alllll around and if we're lucky we get to witness what you have so beautifully written of.

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  3. We live just inside the city limits of Philly, and we are technically "city folks."
    There is a lot of open spaces here, and over the course of many years we are learning to open our eyes and see just how much animal life is mixing into the the city.

    For humans and animals, the difference between life and death can be razor thin.

    Good thoughtful post. Thanks.


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    1. Thanks John.

      Nature is everywhere. That razor thinness? Yup, it's real.

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  4. Riveting, it was as if I was there watching and inside the does mind at the same time. Thanks for sharing and doing it so well.

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    1. Shared on FB, also this Facebook Group "OLD SCHOOL BLOGGERS - THE ORIGINALS"

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    2. So Sarge is "old school"?? Thought he was just old!! ;-)

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  5. Beautiful. Just beautiful. Thanks so much for taking me away from Old England to New England for a few minutes to get lost in the imagery evoked by this story.

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  6. Nicely written, Sarge. Agree with others that you've done a great job with this vignette. We had a little fawn feeding on some grass next to the house the other day, right next to the front porch, so we had a nice view out a window. Took great care to sneak up on it inside the dining room where we could see it without disturbing it. Certainly didn't even think about tapping on the window (idiots!). Last year had a very freshly born fawn huddled up against the retaining wall out front, where it's mum had told it to stay. Right out in the open, but it was doing a good job of hugging the ground and being still. Ageee that many folks don't see what is all around them, even when their eyes are open - I am guilty of that myself at times... when

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    1. I've done that too.

      But I did spend a considerable amount of time last weekend watching the resident backyard robin chasing off his rivals.

      Thanks Tom.

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  7. First of all, you had me at Sarge... My dad was a Sarge too, career Army. Growing up our favorite color was camouflage. :) - It's been a sad week for me and this beautiful, beautiful post is exactly what I needed to read this morning. Thank you..

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  8. great story... keep this up and you will be a noted author-writus.

    When I was younger, I was routinely asked to off the sick animal. I dont know how I was the one to get that duty. Then I saw "To Kill a Mockingbird". There is a line that effectively said there are folks that do the thankless jobs. That made it all line up.

    As harsh as nature is, I'm just glad no one had to get involved in putting it down Those little cute bambi's are really neat.

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    1. Many people don't realize just how much we rely on somebody to do those thankless jobs.

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    2. I won't shy away if it's needed. But like RHT447 said, each time is another little layer of sadness, but then putting them out of a long drawn out death is needed. Part of the responsibility of having animals in the first place. No one, except a few of us, seems know at the beginning when it's all smiles and laughter, the way it ends.

      Hearing that beautiful southern woman speak about Atticus that way rings in my mind when it's time to do the hard thing. Even if it's cleaning out the commode or mopping up yuk. It has to be done, and who better than me? I guess that is acceptance or maybe just embracing the suck...

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    3. Sometimes it's all you can do.

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    4. Real Men, and Real Women, just... step up. That's what makes them Real.

      The nastier the situation, sickness, children, war, etc, the more real Real gets.

      I feel sorry for those who know they are found wanting when faced with the tests of life, even before trying whatever test is in front of them.

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  9. "innocent beauty". Yes. I think it is the innocence that crushes our hearts.

    What STxAR said. I grew up as a young lad on a ranch and witnessed the miracle of birth/hatch many times. There were a few times when the new arrivals had to be put down. As it was just my mother and I, that duty fell to me as the "man of the house". At age 12. I will always carry that with me. It hurt at the time, but I am better for it. Many of the "me too" mindset would benefit as well.

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    1. Growing up away from the cities one learns early on what life and death is all about.

      It can be a harsh lesson, but it does make one better. Concur on your last.

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    2. It is what responsible breeders of animals have to do. It's part of that whole 'responsible' thingy. Which sucks but it is part of breeding.

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    3. Harsh yes, necessary, yes, sad...

      Oh yes.

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  10. GMC(ret) Are the "me too" mindset active or passive participants in the aforesaid operation?

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  11. Now that was something completely different! Nice post. Nature can be fickle, brutal, and beautiful all at the same time. That's also how I describe an old girlfriend!

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  12. Nice post. There is so much life to see if only one will put down the smart phone and look around one's self. Changes in light, changes in vegetation through the year(s), recognizing animals and their young that return season after season, becoming one with the land. The joy of new life, the sadness of the light that never shone, and the loss when a lamp of life is extinguished. Seeing more and more of my comrades from the desert passing on; my former tent mate died a few months ago. Darn, he could make me laugh! And a world-class scrounger...me: "Larry, that washtub looks like the Battalion XO's wash tub!", Larry: "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." I find solace in listening to the Avett Brothers - "No Hard Feelings" and finding joy and pleasure in the life that surrounds me.

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    1. Sounds like you've found a good way to live, Barry.

      Thanks.

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  13. A beautiful post, what I needed after yesterday's.

    Thanks for the post.
    Paul L. Quandt


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  14. Blogger is a four letter word, one of the not nice ones.

    Paul

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    1. Yes, I see what it did. Blogger has been a tad obstreperous lately.

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  15. In the high tech, high speed, non-stop world we dwell in it is refreshing to occasionally sit back and smell the roses and contemplate the endless wonders of nature. How does a butterfly know their route to and from Mexico? How do ducks and geese know their migration paths? How do salmon remember the exact stream in which they were hatched? Nature is marvelous, and there is little in nature that stirs me as much as a doe with her fawn. Deer are such beautiful and graceful animals and a doe and her fawn seem to epitomize innocence. Well written Chris, and I wish them a long and peaceful life.

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    1. Thanks Dave.

      The little one seems to be doing well, still hanging out near its birthplace. Up and walking. A good sign.

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  16. Nature is... That's it. Spectacular, beautiful, ugly, deadly, incomprehensible and totally understandable.

    And then the city-born lackwits show up.

    My dad taught us to look but leave alone, unless we were going to eat it or for protection.

    Seriously, tapping on the windows? Now, to get even, get you and some of your more devious friends to make little window tapping robots with red shiny eyes to sit outside the windows near them and tap on the windows when it's gloomy or foggy outside. See how they like it.

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    1. Nature is.

      I like it.

      I also like the window-tapping robot idea.

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  17. Wow.....just "WoW", Sarge. Truly poetic.

    As I get older, I find I appreciate the whole "Circle of Life" thing more and more.

    Seeing our little grandson go from 10 weeks early and barely there to the curious ball of 2 year old energy he is has had a profound effect on me.

    That and being OUT of Lost Angeleez.....!

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    1. Watching the grandkids grow, one of life's sweeter pleasures.

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  18. Very nicely written. Life can seem cruel at times but that death is just part of life.

    My Dad was a rancher and I saw that scenario played out many times although with cattle we can at least provide some help. I learned very young how to spot a cow having difficulty birthing and learned how to reposition the calf and pull on the calf to help the mother give birth. But sometimes in spite of all you can do, you still get the occasional stillborn and only God knows why.

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    1. It really is a mystery. One lives, another doesn't.

      Death is just a part of life, no escaping that.

      Thanks Russ.

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