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<u>A Fawn of Possibilities</u>
As I head up the trail following a late spring rain, I can almost hear the foliage drinking down the water as the plants fight to be the greenest, tallest, fullest plant first and shade out their competition for the sunny months that lie ahead.
I approach a hinge cut hedge row I cut back in March that separates the trail from one of my Fall plots and am happy to see the hinged trees greened but no longer in the competition up in the canopy. As if on a cue a nice doe steps out on the main trail from that hedge row of green. She stops and checks me over for a bit and flicks her tail several times in sort of a nervous manner , looks back from where she came and then walks into the pines on the left. I figured she must not see this guy in shorts and hiking boots as a threat now, but perhaps knows it is the same guy she was likely snorting and stomping at last fall when she found me perched awkwardly in a tree near this same trail and I cannot be trusted.
I go to take another step, and a wobbly legged fawn darts onto the path at the same spot as mom, stops briefly then follows mom down into the pines. “That looks like it was just born” I think as I give the two time to get reunited and regrouped before moving on.
As I get to the steeper part of the trail and my blood begins to flow a bit faster from the stress of the climb, my mind starts to work a bit harder in thought. Perhaps this increased blood flow to my brain and the thoughts that follow are why I like hiking the mountains so much? It takes me to a place the flatlands cannot. My thoughts turn to that little newborn fawn and the possibilities in which he carries with him.
Perhaps that little fawn is indeed a male, and becomes the buck that 5 years from now appears on that foggy rainy November morning like a ghost in the clear-cut, stops briefly enough for me to be in awe of his magnificence then disappears just as ghostly back into the fog and cover. Maybe I get to watch this fawn on a couple occasions as he develops prior to this meeting 5 years later, seeing him make the mistakes of a young buck, that is unknowingly benefiting from regulations written to protect him and govern those that pursue his kind and also from my desire to let him grow. Maybe this young male becomes a proud harvest of one of my kids during the next couple years and his early set of antlers spend their days on a plaque in my kid’s room to forever be remembered, thanked and cherished by a family that finds such things their lifeblood.
Maybe this little one is the ever important female. A seed of sleek, beauty and cunning, and maybe she was not only following her mom but learning from her what she will need to pass on one day. Maybe she becomes the matriarch of the herd, and the first to snort when danger is detected. Perhaps that one little fawn will produce for us many meals and memories from her offspring over the next several years as she is able to avoid demise. Should I thank her now for that when we are not foes? It also could be this little fawn just becomes the unfortunate one that because of harvest goal decisions made in a far away State office or my own need to see the herd balanced to preserve and protect this habitat we work so hard on all year, she is the one the hammer will fall on and she then becomes the meal provided by her mom, all while letting another fawn’s story unfold now. Let’s hope the fate that made or paths cross then, also helped us in making the right choice when we ultimately swung the hammer.
At a rest point on the trail where I can look back down over the hill and the neighboring hills surrounding it, I take comfort in the fact that one thing this fawn will not likely have to worry about is finding its end in the headlights of a vehicle or seeing its habitat converted to one that just suits one overwhelming specie. But I just as quickly think about the early threats to it from the numerous year-around predators here, the coyotes, the bears, those that live by their own regulations and that roam these same hills. My best wishes to that fawn that the same fate also steers those threats down over the bench instead of along it where their paths will cross.
On descent of the hill I take a good look at the shape of the world this fawn will grow up in. And the rain once again starts to fall from the sky, I find myself really rooting for the plants that provide the fawn what it needs to become healthy to win the competition and help it avoid the pitfalls that bad surroundings can bring especially in late winter. I am motivated once again to committing my free time to doing what I can during this year that is now suddenly in full swing after such a long winter lull. I remind myself that not all things pay dividends but that is no reason to stop investing. I am in this for the long haul, not just my generation, or the fawn’s, but for those generations that have yet to even step foot on this hill.
Once home, I relay the story to my family and talk of this fawn with the knowledge that we all will be players and blaze trails that may cross there…and I end my story to them with saying “that was a great fawn to see, a fawn of possibilities”.
Be well, and never forget the possibilites.
RB
As I head up the trail following a late spring rain, I can almost hear the foliage drinking down the water as the plants fight to be the greenest, tallest, fullest plant first and shade out their competition for the sunny months that lie ahead.
I approach a hinge cut hedge row I cut back in March that separates the trail from one of my Fall plots and am happy to see the hinged trees greened but no longer in the competition up in the canopy. As if on a cue a nice doe steps out on the main trail from that hedge row of green. She stops and checks me over for a bit and flicks her tail several times in sort of a nervous manner , looks back from where she came and then walks into the pines on the left. I figured she must not see this guy in shorts and hiking boots as a threat now, but perhaps knows it is the same guy she was likely snorting and stomping at last fall when she found me perched awkwardly in a tree near this same trail and I cannot be trusted.
I go to take another step, and a wobbly legged fawn darts onto the path at the same spot as mom, stops briefly then follows mom down into the pines. “That looks like it was just born” I think as I give the two time to get reunited and regrouped before moving on.
As I get to the steeper part of the trail and my blood begins to flow a bit faster from the stress of the climb, my mind starts to work a bit harder in thought. Perhaps this increased blood flow to my brain and the thoughts that follow are why I like hiking the mountains so much? It takes me to a place the flatlands cannot. My thoughts turn to that little newborn fawn and the possibilities in which he carries with him.
Perhaps that little fawn is indeed a male, and becomes the buck that 5 years from now appears on that foggy rainy November morning like a ghost in the clear-cut, stops briefly enough for me to be in awe of his magnificence then disappears just as ghostly back into the fog and cover. Maybe I get to watch this fawn on a couple occasions as he develops prior to this meeting 5 years later, seeing him make the mistakes of a young buck, that is unknowingly benefiting from regulations written to protect him and govern those that pursue his kind and also from my desire to let him grow. Maybe this young male becomes a proud harvest of one of my kids during the next couple years and his early set of antlers spend their days on a plaque in my kid’s room to forever be remembered, thanked and cherished by a family that finds such things their lifeblood.
Maybe this little one is the ever important female. A seed of sleek, beauty and cunning, and maybe she was not only following her mom but learning from her what she will need to pass on one day. Maybe she becomes the matriarch of the herd, and the first to snort when danger is detected. Perhaps that one little fawn will produce for us many meals and memories from her offspring over the next several years as she is able to avoid demise. Should I thank her now for that when we are not foes? It also could be this little fawn just becomes the unfortunate one that because of harvest goal decisions made in a far away State office or my own need to see the herd balanced to preserve and protect this habitat we work so hard on all year, she is the one the hammer will fall on and she then becomes the meal provided by her mom, all while letting another fawn’s story unfold now. Let’s hope the fate that made or paths cross then, also helped us in making the right choice when we ultimately swung the hammer.
At a rest point on the trail where I can look back down over the hill and the neighboring hills surrounding it, I take comfort in the fact that one thing this fawn will not likely have to worry about is finding its end in the headlights of a vehicle or seeing its habitat converted to one that just suits one overwhelming specie. But I just as quickly think about the early threats to it from the numerous year-around predators here, the coyotes, the bears, those that live by their own regulations and that roam these same hills. My best wishes to that fawn that the same fate also steers those threats down over the bench instead of along it where their paths will cross.
On descent of the hill I take a good look at the shape of the world this fawn will grow up in. And the rain once again starts to fall from the sky, I find myself really rooting for the plants that provide the fawn what it needs to become healthy to win the competition and help it avoid the pitfalls that bad surroundings can bring especially in late winter. I am motivated once again to committing my free time to doing what I can during this year that is now suddenly in full swing after such a long winter lull. I remind myself that not all things pay dividends but that is no reason to stop investing. I am in this for the long haul, not just my generation, or the fawn’s, but for those generations that have yet to even step foot on this hill.
Once home, I relay the story to my family and talk of this fawn with the knowledge that we all will be players and blaze trails that may cross there…and I end my story to them with saying “that was a great fawn to see, a fawn of possibilities”.
Be well, and never forget the possibilites.
RB
