I wish I had not seen it: that little bit of tan in the sunny grass late on a summer afternoon.
Tom and I had strolled toward the back of our acreage, hoping to spy the fawn we noticed a few days before. We walked the walk that has become our daily constitutional, checking the knoll of prairie grasses and natives, and the more recently planted grasses in a small plot just established this season.
Routines. They keep us grounded and focused and ordered in life. They give us an anchor when the wind shifts and the tide turns.
I wish I had not seen it; aghast when I did, crying softly “oh, no”, Tom, beside me in an instant, shocked and saddened at what we encountered.
That little fawn, hidden in the weeds just a few days before. lay dead in the grass, just its head and a leg. No mess. No blood. The remains of nature’s brutality. Obviously, my words of the fawn’s safety and lack of scent made no difference to whatever attacked it, most likely coyote.
Tom gentled me away, admonished me to stop looking, comforted me as we retraced our steps to the house.
It is a joy living so close to nature – except on days like this. Except on days like this.
Oh no! That’s awful. The poor little fawn 😦
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It was awful, indeed. Thank you for commenting.
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Oh my! You brought tears to my eyes, Penny. I can only imagine how upsetting it is to find such a result of the cycles of living so close to nature’s wildlife. Many years ago now, our children lost their bunny to a fox–of all things–not very likely where we live. That was probably 30 years ago and they still speak of it. I don’t know what we’d do had we been you and Tom on your walk. It had to be a horrible sight. Big hugs, my soft-hearted and compassionate friend. ox
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Thank you for your generous hugs, Debra. This was a very startling reminder of how swift and cruel nature can be and that these things happen in the balance of nature along with the beauty and grace we so often see.
What an imprint that fox must have made on your children so many years ago, now, but so etched in their psyche.
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I do not ever understand why things like this happen. I am so very sorry. We lost 5 kittens in a week to coyote years ago and I remember the sadness all too well. Knowing you, sort of, I am sure you debated about writing this and were brave to do so.
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Oh, Marilyn, how terrible that must have been and so many kittens in such a short time. Coyote are more and more prevalent these days, even in very urban areas (like the city of Chicago). You do know me well, Marilyn, and I did have an inner debate over whether or not to write about it. Sometimes, for me, writing is a balm, and it was here (though I worried about shocking all of you).
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Oh, Penny, I am so sorry you had to see that. We all KNOW about nature’s sometimes cruelty and that business about survival of the fittest, but knowing it in the backs of our minds and coming face to face with the evidence are two entirely different matters!! Hugs!
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How right you are, Karen. I guess that if we are to enjoy the beauty and nature that surrounds us here, we must also expect the cruel side of nature as well. It was certainly not something I ever thought to see on our little walkabout. Thank you, Karen, for that virtual embrace.
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On no! Penny, I’m so sorry you had to come up against the truth of nature red in tooth and claw, particularly with something so beautiful and defenceless as a fawn. The fact that the coyote probably has a litter to feed doesn’t really help either. We’ve lost cats and chickens to foxes in the past, but somehow this seems even harsher.
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Thank you for your words, Perpetua, and for your perspective here. We always enjoy the beauty of nature here on the Cutoff but, this reminds us that there is also the reality of nature that food must be had for carnivores, such as the coyote and fox, and that we may, on occasion, come face-to-face with that aspect as well.
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Penny, I would’ve cried and cried and cried. I suspect you did, too. I love to watch nature shows, until they put in the brutality of it. I once watched an amazing show about tigers, and I still remember the scene where one attacked an elk for food. I sat in the coffee shop where it was playing and cried. I hit a squirrel in the car one time, and I had to pull over and cry. I wish nothing had to die so something else might live.
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Me, too, Andra, but, as we know, it is what it is and nature does take its course. I did shed some tears, but, later on. It was just so shocking to nonchalantly walk up to that I was rather numb at first.
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That is so sad, yet the deer population in your area tends to be a problem, I know. I still get a little lump in my throat when I see road kill, but then the coyotes, turkey vultures, or hawks swoop in to clean up things. It is brutal to witness, but part of the web of life. In our ponds, Jim is hoping that the bass will keep the population down of this year’s spawn. I didn’t want to know that, but I would rather know it than see it.
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It is such a precarious balance at times, isn’t it, Janet, and I am such a romantic at heart. I know it is all part of nature, but, I just want the pretty parts, which is not what it will be. Like you say, I don’t want to know it, but, would rather not see it. Sure wish I hadn’t seen this one.
Raining here right now with big claps of thunder.
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Oh Penny, what a heart-rending post. That such innocent young life that was so beautiful in its stillness and openness, was cruelly killed. All part of nature’s law, and yet that doesn’t really help. How shocking for you to come across this, but how fortunate to have Tom beside you. I love that phrase, he ‘gentled me away’. That is so touching. The gentleness of the fawn lives on, between you.
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Such kind and life-affirming words, Juliet; I sincerely thank you for them. It was, indeed, shocking, as a good part of life is, but, grateful I am to have someone to gentle me away. You are always so supportive.
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I find myself increasingly heartsick when I see these things … a deer struck by a car on the side of the road draws tears … I can understand your reaction … these things stay longer than they used to … I feel a deeper affinity with most creatures than I do with human beings … probably not good, but there it is …
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These things do stay longer with us, Teresa. I had not thought of it that way, but, for me, I suppose it is because I am older now and that I haven’t lived as close to nature before the past few years. With your Buddy and all the wondrous creatures that frequent your property, I can understand your affinity.
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